Birdboy

My mind was occupied by work, my fingers tapping, tapping away at my keyboard. As always, I had my tunes playing, filling in the white spaces where silence would reign otherwise. I found that my iPod served as a good talisman, warding off evil writer's block, and today was no different. A new song started. Slow and mournful, trancelike. I stopped typing in mid-tap and looked up. It was a song that I knew well, though it had been quite a while since I had heard it last. It was the Placebo cover of an old Kate Bush tune. It doesn't hurt me. You want to feel, how it feels? You want to know, know that it doesn't hurt me.. It was a song that I was introduced to by a lady that I used to see, and I had always associated it with her. It had been a long, long time since I had seen her last. I leaned back in my chair and lit a cigarette, and listened to the song play on. You want to hear about the deal I'm making. You, (If I only could, be running up that hill) You and me (If I only could, be running up that hill).. I remember our first meeting well. She was very pretty, and we'd traded a few promising e-mails. I called her one day on a whim and I soon found myself seated on her sofa beside her. That first conversation on the sofa was awkward, and not quite I would have expected from her emails. Suffice to say that there was no meeting of minds that day. Still, I thought that we might have a bit of fun for the moment. It disappointed me, but she might be a girl I would see just once and then forget about. But when we got to the bedroom, it had become a different story. Our bodies spoke what our words could not. We moved as one, anticipating each other's desires and passions. We were in sync as I never would have believed possible. I lay back and looked at her with wonder. She smiled, got up, and went to the bathroom. I got up, got dressed, and left in a daze. I was conflicted. Call me old fashioned, but I like to have a little chemistry. Inside the bedroom, to be sure, but a little while we were still vertical was always nice. For us, the chemistry was strong, but only once we'd stopped talking. I thought that I'd forget about her soon enough, but I realized after a few days that she'd gotten to me. Got under my skin, rocked my world, floated my boat, whatever it was you wanted to call it. I knew only one thing for certain about her. I had to see her again. You don't want to hurt me, But see how deep the bullet lies. Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder. There's a thunder in our hearts, baby.. So I'd started coming by every once in a while. And every time, we'd have a very light conversation. Then we'd retire to the bedroom for some of that ol' crazy monkey sex, and I would leave an aching but ecstatic man and her with a satisfied smile. Come on, baby, come on, come on, darling, Let me steal this moment from you now. Come on angel, come on, come on, darling, Let's exchange the experience.. She was the quintessential nightowl, and I was ever the early morning bird, often waking before the sun rose and when she was settling to go off to sleep. She was young, and I was.. well, not quite so young anymore. I never thought that I would have so much difficulty verbally communicating with someone for whom English was their native tongue. She wasn't dumb, but we were just from different worlds. I found myself wishing that I could understand her just a little better, though we had little in common. Our coming together seemed so improbable, but seeing her thrilled me so much for a time. So much hate for the ones we love? Tell me, we both matter, don't we? You, (If I only could, be running up that hill) You and me (If I only could, be running up that hill) You and me, won't be unhappy.. Kate Bush once said that her song was about the eternal divide between men and women, and how they were constantly misunderstood by each other. How it would be wonderful to truly trade places and live within the other's skin, if only for a moment. And how it would take a deal with God to make that happen. It summed up the way I felt about her, and it was a fitting anthem for that time. And if I only could, Make a deal with God, And I'd get him to swap our places, Be running up that road, Be running up that hill, With no problems.. Of course, no swap of our souls into each other's bodies and minds was ever going to take place. And that gap between our understandings gradually grew into a massive divide that eventually, inevitably, understandably, brought what we little we had to a close. I glanced over at my cell phone as the song wound to an end. I thought about all the great times that we shared, and I smiled. I stubbed out my cigarette, had a last wry smile, and started typing. The next song's starting..

Thanks for your words of appreciation, Alexis- it's been a little quiet here lately. Stay warm? I'm a Winnipegger. Warm is overrated. ;)

I think of her as my swan. She was so beautiful, so graceful. I'd always thought she was so terribly elegant. She had creamy pale skin, and a long ballerina's neck. She just glided through life, as serenely as can be, with class and distinction. So of course, I had to meet someone so lovely. But when I finally met her, I became the Leda to her Zeus in swan's clothing. Her facade lifted, I was a willing participant in her violation of me, her seduction carried out hungrily, forcefully. I was shocked, then relented, then delighted. I left with a grin on my face and scratches on my back. I ached for days, and thought of her with a smile everytime I felt a twinge. And every time I saw her afterwards, I marvelled at her smooth skin and her smooth manner as she greeted me. I would arrive, and we would often share a glass of wine and chat, politely, elegantly. And then she would take me by the hand and lead me to her lair, where she would part the heavens and appear in her true form, always leaving me thunderstruck. I came to know her well over time. And I eventually found that she was like a swan in ways that I hadn't foreseen. She still appeared to glide through life, effortlessly, noiselessly. But now, I see that below the surface she was paddling like mad, desperately trying to stay afloat. For her outward calm was a facade for the world, an adopted persona. Her magnificent dignity didn't allow her to show the pain in her life, the dire circumstances which she lived and loved in. I couldn't help her very much. All I could do was offer my words of comfort, and hope that I could give her a few minutes of pleasure and distraction from the rest of her tortured existence. She never ever really needed my envelopes, her troubles went beyond anything mere money could set right. She glided out of my life, one cold winter's day. She left quietly, without a whisper of goodbye, leaving no visible ripples except for the ones in my memories.

There are so many things that inspire me. Of course, great men and women in my field of work inspire me. I see them and they look human, sound human, laugh at my bad jokes, yet they are otherworldly in their skill and talent in a way I could only aspire to. My favorite lady inspires me. Yes, I know at the root of it, she's doing her job, albeit one she deeply enjoys. But she graces me with her warmth and sweet, sweet charm and it inspires me to be sweeter still. But beyond these obvious things, there are many small things that inspire me, fill me with wonder. Make me glad I have all of my senses. A hot cup of coffee on a cold winter morning. The small of my lady's back, fine hairs glittering in the morning sun. A hug from an old friend after a long absence. The wind in my hair on a midsummer night's country drive. The exotic bloom and delicate scent of cultivated orchids. All these things and more have made their way into my writing, and make me glad to be alive every day.

It was long, long, ago and in a more innocent time. I was in high school, and a quiet, shy and bookish student. She was an almost stereotypical cheerleader. Tall, willowy, blonde hair in long, loose curls. Busty. Brilliant icy blue eyes, and many straight white teeth. And when she flashed them at me, I had to look away, the dazzling brilliance of her smile and her beauty making me tongue-tied and shy. She was cool, she was funny, she was at the center of her own little clique in the middle of the whole in-crowd. She smiled at me, as she smiled at everyone. She had a way of making everyone her friend and putting everyone feel at ease.. that is, it seemed like everyone but me. Without her even trying, she intimidated the daylights out of me. I had a crush on her, as did quite a few of the guys I knew. But I never did anything about it. There was the small matter of her big dumb football-playing boyfriend, and I knew I was terribly out of my league in any case. I sat next to her sister in one of my classes. She was constantly being overshadowed by her cheerleader sister. I came to realize that she was always trying just that little bit harder. She was bright and fun to talk to and a great pal. We talked every day, in our class. We finished high school, and we parted ways forever. And I forgot all about my cheerleader crush. Or so I thought. ........................||........................ It was years later, and I was sitting in a movie theatre, waiting for the movie to start. A group of people entered my row, and seated themselves next to me. I looked at the lady who had sat next to me. I quickly recognized her as my old pal, the cheerleader's sister. After the initial mutual surprise, we caught up quickly with old times. And after a few minutes of talking, she dropped a bombshell. "My sister had this really big crush on you." It turns out that every day, after we had talked in our classes, she went home and they had talked about what I had said. And that she'd given me plenty of hints to approach her, but I just wasn't cluing in, or perhaps I just wasn't really paying attention. I thought about that conversation for a long time after that evening. I'm happy in my current life. But I couldn't help but wonder about things that might have been. My life might not have been any different if anything had happened back then, but it would have left some interesting memories. I left high school, and moved on to bigger and brighter things. I lost my shyness. My bookishness helped me in college and my career, and gave me a reserve of knowledge that has always held me in good stead in a lifetime of adult conversation. I grew up, worked out, filled out, and became a man instead of a boy. Became polished, urbane, cultured. An adult. And oh yes, I also became a pooner. ........................||........................ She was one of the brightest lights on the review board I frequented. She was a tall, slim nordic delight, with eyes of blue ice wrested from the glaciers of ancient fjords. Long and wild platinum hair. And a rack that would make a priest kick a hole through a stained glass window. I came to know her profile picture well. This glamazon flashed a subtle grin mixed with a come-hither look, as long blonde hair flowed in waves over her breasts. She was definitely part of the in-crowd. Her cell phone had the numbers of the best, the bustiest, the brightest of the ladies in the business in it, as her friends and acquaintances. But unlike my old cheerleader crush, she never intimidated. Attractive women are hardly a rarity in this business. But there was much more about her. She had a certain charm. A way of making everyone feel at ease, as though she was just common folk instead of the incredible creature that she was. And she was everywhere on that board. She posted, and posted, and posted some more. She developed an enormous following, and I was among them. I thought nothing much more would ever come of it. She lived far away, in a city that I rarely visited. And I knew she got much more attention than anyone could ever handle. But one fateful day, she dropped me a short note, saying hello. And that's all it took. We started a lengthy correspondence. We made such unlikely friends. But we got along much better than I ever would have expected. I realized one day that I had been writing her for so long that I just thought of her as a pal. I'd forgotten that she was so heartbreakingly desirable, so tantalizingly unobtainable. It was late one night, and we were chatting on the computer. I mentioned that I was going to be passing through her town. Did she want to meet? I suggested drinks. "Yeah!! I want to get together. But I hope we can have more than drinks." "You want to have supper?" Gee, I was dense sometimes. "No, silly. Dessert. " I paused. I hadn't thought about this before. But it didn't take long for me to consider the possibilities. "Sounds great! Oh, but one thing. Would you wear a cheerleader outfit for me?" ........................||........................ Sometimes you can reach out, and pluck a dream back out of your past. You should grasp those times, and squeeze the life out of them. Make that dream real, make it your own. And though you really can't go home again, sometimes you can make things better the second time around.

Asking whether or not anyone prefers amateur or professional pictures is tricky, because there is a huge variation in the quality of both. I'm 100% certain no one really thinks the solo photo taken with a cheap cellphone in front of a dirty bathroom mirror does any lady a justice. At the same, time, a professionally done but heavily retouched photo looks great but really doesn't do anyone a great service either. I have seen very talented amateur self-shot photos, and I have seen photos taken by a 'professional' where the only evidence of professionalism was that I believed by the photographer's watermark money had changed hands for this service. I guess what I'm trying to get across is that both amateur and professional pictures can be successful in communicating both the attractiveness of the subject and perhaps a little bit of the lady's personality. Personally, I'd suggest setting that timer, taking lots and lots of photos, and perhaps get someone with a keen eye to help pick out the gems. For what it's worth, Soleil, when I met you some time ago I thought that you were considerably more attractive than the photos that you had posted at the time. That was not due to any lack of skill or talent, but because your photos didn't show the kind and considerate nature that is so amply evident in person and which I still don't think come across in your pictures even now.

I know the feeling well, of when a favorite retires. It's the loss of a friendship, a loved one. In some cases it's like they've died. That this thread has been resurrected a few times says just how evergreen this topic is. I wrote this story about the retirement of a favorite a few years ago, that pretty much sums it up. ..................................................................... Pooner Diaries: Retiree It's a bittersweet day. We spoke today when I came to visit. You told me about your new career. I saw the excitement in your eyes, heard the enthusiasm in your voice. It's truly a great opportunity for you, and I know that this is what you always wanted. You're going to move on from this phase of your life. Pull that ad. Close that email address, change your cellphone number. Peel away that identity that you've worked to perfect all these years, like a snake shedding its old skin and past life. I'm happy for you, I truly am. But I can't help but feel a little sadness at this passing. We've shared a lot of time together, my favorite. We've known a lot of joy together. But beyond that joy and the commercial exchange, we have become friends after a fashion as well. But our friendship has nowhere to go, both literally and figuratively. I remember the day when we passed by each other in the street. We were both alone, and we could have spoken, I suppose. But discretion requires us to pass by without a word. If anyone was watching us, they would have seen me pass by, a half-smile on my face as I looked away the only clue that we knew each other. And without my coming by every so often to visit, that friendship will wither away from neglect. And I'm just going to let it go. I asked if I could stay in touch. And I saw the quickly passing flicker in your eyes that told me it wasn't to be, as your words assured me that we would. For I recognized that you were in character then, as the pliant and ever willing woman, eager to please, ready to do my bidding. The woman that I know is not really you, in other words. The woman that will be shed along with this identity. So we will be close by to each other, but miles apart. This is a strange business. Neither of us is supposed to care, outside that hour. That's not part of the bargain. But it's impossible not to, at least a little. And this change is wonderful for you. It's what you've dreamed about, your goal, your final payoff from your time spent with me and others. So yes, I feel glad for you. And I feel a little sad, for me.

Elizabeth, you might be a woman of few words but the ones you've written are a delight. Thank you, old friend. :smile:

Such a deliciously erotic tale, a little tasty little morsel on many levels. Yet I know this is but the appetizer, a little amuse bouche before the main course. This gourmand can't wait, this a la carte parcelling out of your time with this very fortunate man has me drooling in anticipation! I swear, I know your next installment will be very special, or I'll eat my words. ;-)

'Twas a night to remember, to dream about, to immortalize in prose as well as in my own memories. Here's hoping that magic, that glittering fairy dust will shine again. Thanks, Alexis. :grin: Mutau, one of my most ardent and erudite fans. Thank you for your words of praise, they are much appreciated. Look forward to seeing more here in the future! And it's always a delight having you enjoy them, no matter where we are. Thanks, Katrina!

Alexiss, I love this tale. Sometimes it's easy to forget that the lady is enjoying the man's company as much as he's enjoying hers, and that it isn't just a matter of commerce. Many congratulations are in order for both such a delightful tale as well as what sounds like an evening to remember when you're both old and grey. I can't wait to see if there is a sequel- have you discussed the possibility with the lucky man?

The morning light streamed through a gap in the curtains, striking my face with a soft pink glow as it only can under the big skies of the prairies. I stirred from my deep slumber, felt the crisp and cool white sheets against my skin as I turned to look at the clock. Ooh, I?m stiff. I?m going to be a little sore today. I smiled, as I thought back to last night and why I was going to be sore. I felt the stubble on my chin as I slowly woke up. I can still faintly smell her scent on me. I barely remembered seeing her to the door, her fully clothed in her coat and boots and me, naked as the day I was born. We must have looked a comical pair. But she gave me a deep kiss goodnight and I returned with a wistful hug, as she slipped out the door and into the night. This room feels so empty without her here. It?s so odd. We had never met in person before last night, we had never heard each other?s voices, never seen each other?s faces. I don't even know her name. Her real name, anyway. But it already felt like I had known her forever. Can one fall for someone else through their words? I know many would say poppycock, nonsense. And I would have been one of them. I?d believed that a touch, a gentle whisper, lips brushing their intimate secrets against the other?s ear was indispensable for affairs of the heart. Not to mention physical chemistry, mystical pheremones wafting into our noses, tickling that primitive part of our brains into acceptance, lust, desire. But I know better now, for I have fallen with her words. It was only partly what she had said, articulate and thoughtful musings on life, love, the world around her. But it was also the way that she said those words that had caught my attention. She wrote as I had, direct, lean and yet lyrical. I couldn?t help but admire those words and I wrote a note of admiration. As it turned out, she had noticed me as well. That brief note between us became the spark that had ignited a flame. We started to write to each other, and it was through that, that the soft tendrils of friendship started to wind its way around us both. Our first messages were formal, polite, brief. But as we got to know each other, they became warmer, then finally intimate. The tiny lick of flame became a blaze, then a conflagration. We wrote long letters to each other, that virtual paper the tinder that also fanned our respective infatuations. Oh, yes, we had become smitten. Fate smiled upon us. I was going to be passing close to the town where she lived. The possibility of meeting in person suddenly became a concrete and tangible possibility. I don?t think that I even asked if she wanted to meet. We took it as an unspoken given. Of course we would meet. There was never any thought that it could be otherwise. I anxiously waited for the day to arrive. Our notes became even more intense. The anticipation was killing us both, in the most delicious way. But tempus was inexorably fugiting, and the day finally came. The knock on my door was soft. I leapt up and swung open the door with a smile. And the smile froze on my face when we finally came face to face. I had fallen for her mind. I?d resolved that it just didn?t matter what she looked like. But the woman standing before me was a sight to behold. Tall, blonde, eyes of icy blue in a model?s high-cheekboned face. Elegantly turned out in a long black coat buttoned closed, concealing the delights within. She was just gorgeous. She was someone who would have made me turn my head in the street. And though I already loved her mind, I now knew there was already much that I would admire on a more visceral level. We hugged warmly. I could smell her faint scent of fresh soap, clean and wholesome. And I tasted those lips and our tongues touched. It was a brief kiss. But in it was an eternity of anticipation and longing that was released in that kiss. A greeting hello, and a suggestion of much more to come. I finally broke the kiss and offered her a drink. And as I mixed drinks for us, I could feel her gaze on me. I turned quickly to see her gaze had been below my waist, a mischievous smile crinkling those icy blues approvingly. Apparently my butt had passed muster. I blushed. I realized this physical admiration, hormones calling out for warm flesh in the darkest part of the night, was mutually felt. I brought the drinks over and we sat closely on the edge of the bed. We talked about my flight here, my drive up. We talked about my plans for travelling through the area. It would have been the polite banter of two people just getting to know each other, except for our intertwined fingers, my thigh touching hers, the soft kisses punctuating our sentences. I could sense the deep passions just swirling below the calm surface of our polite conversation. We were so terribly tempted to rip each other?s clothes off where we sat, devour each other on the spot. But no. There was plenty of time for that yet. It was early. Was she hungry? I knew a place. And as it happened, she was. We made it out of the room and into the car, and it's a wonder I didn't cause an accident, she drew so much of my attention. But I eventually made it to the restaurant and parked. It didn't take a word or a moment of thought, our lips were drawn together inexorably. Our tongues did that familiar slow-motion duel, that delicious glide, that tender yet passionate clinch. I broke away panting, to see that dreamy smile on her face. I'd better get her out of the car before we do something terribly public. Ok, time to put my gentlemanly demeanor on now. We're in public. We walked into the crowded restaurant. My heart sank as I saw all the people. I hadn't thought ahead to make a reservation. But there was a table available. And as if the fates were still watching out over us, a discreet booth in the back was ours for the sitting. We slid into the booth and sat closely, big dumb grins betraying our respective can't-believe-I'm-here-pinch-me happiness. We managed polite conversation, though our body language spoke loudly in that noisy restaurant. Our food came and I picked up a little morsel with my fingers, bringing it to her lips. Her eyes closed as she took it in her mouth, her lips lightly brushing my fingertips before ever so gently sucking on one of them. My goodness. I think I should put a napkin over my lap. We ate quickly and with few words but our glances, our ever so subtle brushes of our knees and our fingers communicating volumes. I quickly took care of the check and we stepped out into the cool night air. I managed to weave the car back to my hotel without hitting anything. She excused herself for a moment as I lit candles, put on some music I knew she would like. The bathroom door opened and her eyes opened wide with a smile. She hadn't been expecting this. She melted into my arms and we kissed. I slipped the light sweater off of her shoulders and caressed her breasts through her shirt, my lips tracing her nipple framed in the fabric. Her eyes closed and her lips parted, leaning her head back, her breath becoming heavy. I eased off her tights and dined for the second time that evening, Venus on the half-shell, wet, slippery, alive and pink. I savored every subtle flavor, every little nuance and texture. She arched her back, face twisted in ecstacy, a squeal escaping her lips. I leaned back and watched her as she regained her breath, gently stroking her belly with my fingertips. She turned to me and kissed, more forcefully now. She reached to unbutton my shirt, undo my belt. She reached into my pants and withdrew me, purple hardness in the cool air. Without a moment's hesitation she took me in her mouth, her warmth surrounding me. I would have let her do that until I was old and grey. I would draw sustenance from the waves of pleasure, breath fresh air anew with each stroke. But then she turned to me with a huge smile and straddled my hips, her breath catching in her throat as I slid home into her. We moved, slowly at first, then faster and faster. We both thrusted with abandon, the bed racking, our growls and moans drowning out the world around us. My sweet pussycat had become a tigress, I became a raptorous bird of prey as we roared and snarled into the night. I saw white light. The birth of a new day, twin suns rising over an alien landscape as I flew free into the night sky. She lay beside me and wrapped herself around me as I lay there panting. We chatted, punctuated by light kisses, fingers intertwined. My heart soared, released from its moorings, its defenses melted away like the wax around the flickering candlelight. She slipped out of bed, pulled her clothes on and left. She left me alone in this room, hours ago. And though I'm rarely alone for long, I felt lonely and a little lost in the early morning light. She had given me a taste of what it felt like to be loved, and I had reveled in it, immersed in the baptism of her wonderous passion. It had felt so real, so enduring. And now that it was gone, I felt withdrawal symptoms from that most delightful of natural drugs. I wanted to see her, to hold her, to tell her how I felt. But instead, I shivered, wrapping the cold sheet around me for warmth. I walked up to window and peered through the curtains. Straggling shades of pink rimmed a few clouds around the swiftly rising sun. It's a new day. And I have to move on, back to the cold hard reality that is my life. I'll just have my memories of that one magical evening to keep me warm on those lonely winter nights of the soul. That is, till the next time.

Sara, I'm 100% agreed with you on this. My best times ever in this hobby are when we've chatted and corresponded a little beforehand. It breaks the ice and makes things just a little more comfortable for everyone. When I am interested in someone, I introduce myself in an email, say a little about myself, sometimes even send a link to one of my stories. If there is a terse reply, I might still see the lady but it reduces my expectations about the potential session considerably. My mind has to be tickled as well as my body, I guess. Conversely, there have been a very few ladies for whom I had chatted with or corresponded with extensively before we finally met. I am very conscious of not creating a burden of unwanted chatter, but if there is mutual interest and chemistry I'll indulge. And when we have finally met.. wow. Fireworks on both sides! Like everything else in life, you get more out of it when you put in more effort.

Oh, good. You've been here today. And I see that you've written a few words already, and I'll spend a few minutes reading and relishing them. I look forward to your words. Perhaps you'll make me laugh today. Perhaps you'll make me think. But perhaps you'll make my heart melt today. Yet again. You and I, we have a certain something going on. It's funny. We've never seen each other's faces, and we've never even heard each other's voices. But so many kind and sweet words have flowed back and forth between us, and by now I feel like I know you well. I know someday soon, we'll meet in person. I'll fly long and I'll fly far, and I'll land on your doorstep. That door will swing open and we'll finally see each other's faces, hear each other's voices. And the sweetness that has passed between us will no longer just be an abstraction, loose stray electrons forming images in our minds. No, we'll share a very real and very physical embrace. I look forward to that day. And I fantasize about my fingertips stroking your soft skin, the taste of your lips on mine. Discovering the heady scent that defines you. Feeling the warmth and weight of your flesh in my hands. The feel of you under my tongue, warm and slippery, as I see your face contort with pleasure. The feel of being inside your mouth, my own mouth noiselessly screaming under the intense pleasure, holding on for just one more moment before my release. And I delight in the thought of our coupling. I dream of those frenzied moments, as we thrust together, panting, feral growling I barely recognize from my own throat. Sweaty breathy smiles between us as we lay back, happy and satisfied. For many men, finally meeting would be the end of the story. A mystery solved, the novelty gone. Another notch in the bedpost. More fodder for a review, before moving on. And I know that for some ladies, there won't be anything more. But we've come to know each other so well, that I can't believe that will be the case for us. That is my one regret. You live so far away, and we'll only have those few moments together. We won't grow into becoming comfortable with the feel of each other's skin, slowly learn what makes each of us happiest. Whisper sweet secrets into each other's ears, time after time. Become friends of the flesh, as we settle into a comfortable working relationship. Who would ever have known that simple words on a computer screen could carry so much weight, and hold so much power. But with them, we have found each other, and our lives are a little bit brighter as a result. See you soon, my sweet one.

Rolling billows of pinks and reds were appearing in the eastern sky now, and the world was suffused with a rosy glow. It's going to be a gorgeous morning. The songbirds were starting to wake as well, chirping their morning blessings. It would be sunrise very soon. Some people stay with you forever in your memories. I dated other ladies and eventually married and settled down, but I still thought about Brenda every once in a while. I wondered what ever happened to her. I reminisced about her, that summer, my carefree college days. I marveled that in the tiny city that I lived in, where everyone seemed to know each other and you would run across everyone that you ever met eventually, that I never bumped into her. But life goes on, and everyone's life must have their share of sad days. A series of personal setbacks made for a dismal winter that turned into a depressing spring and a painful summer. And one brilliant, gorgeous summer day when things were at their lowest and I was so lonely I thought I was losing my mind, I decided to reach out for help. Professional help. But the mainstream world of psychiatrists and doctors wasn't for me. Like men for centuries before me, I sought help of a more visceral nature. I scanned the yellow pages, and found an ad for exactly the kind of place I was hoping for. And a brief phone call later to ask a few questions and get the address, and I was on my way. I'd never done anything like this before. I parked my car behind the building, out of sight from the street. I hesitated for a moment before getting out of the car, nervous to come out from behind the tinted windows. I steeled my resolve, opened the car door, and walked in. It was cool in the building. I stopped, my eyes adjusting to the dim light after the bright afternoon. I was confronted with my first decision. Up or down? I decided to go down, my descent echoing my Hadean mood. I saw her at the desk. It was the back of her head at first, bobbing ever so gently as she talked on the phone. But she turned as she hung up the phone, and I saw her in profile then. Her hair was much longer and dyed auburn, and that slim teenaged frame had transmuted into bold womanly curves. She had a few fine lines at the corners of her eyes, and her makeup was different now. But I recognized that face in an eyeblink, and my heart raced. I walked up and smiled. "Hi, Brenda." She looked up, surprised. She looked puzzled for a moment, her eyes narrowing at first, then opening wide. And her face broke out into a sunrise burst of delight, as she recognized me. She lept out from behind the desk, and gave me a hug. "Birdie! Hi!!" It was good to feel her hug again. "It's nice to see you. How long has it been?" She reached to touch my upper arm, a gentle stroke. "Way too long. Twenty years? I'm surprised I never saw you around." "Well, I left the country to go to school for a while. Then I travelled around, and..." Oh, the sublime delight of seeing her again. We quickly caught up with old times. It was if no time had passed at all. "..and after he left, I was on my own. I started working here. How about you? I heard you got married." "I was." I looked away, my pain must have been obvious to anyone within oh, a mile or so. There was an awkward moment, and then she grinned a crooked Charlie Brown smile. "So whatcha wanna do, Birdie? Wanna see the book?" She slid the binder across the table at me. "Book?" My delight in talking to her again was so complete, I had almost forgotten why I was there. I flipped through the binder idly, each page showing pictures of young women. I skimmed their faces and none of them called out to me. No, I wanted more now than I when I walked in a few minutes ago. Much, much more. "Are these all of them?" "Oh, there's one who started yesterday and her picture isn't in the book yet. Want me to call her here so you can have a look?" "No, that's OK." I already knew the one I wanted, and she was much closer than the next room. "I was thinking about you, Brenda." She looked startled, and then smiled a half smile of satisfaction, wonder, and half-forgotten longing. "I think I can arrange that." ....................................||.................................... I sat nervously, alone in the room, the hot tub burbling away. She'd led me here, then disappeared behind the closing door. The door swung open, and she walked through. She wore a pink satin robe, and I could see her black heels below it. She set two bottles of water on the table. "Why are you still dressed?" I stammered an nervous explanation. I'd never done anything like this before. I thought that getting comfortable meant just reclining in the chair. "Oh, that's okay. Just relax. Just let me do everything, and you'll be all right." I noticed a gleam in her eyes. I wonder what she meant by that? "I'm supposed to take you in the tub, but I've got other plans for you. Here, lie down on your stomach." I did as she asked, and I turned to see her pick up a bottle of baby oil and squirt a little onto my back. Her hands were warm, soft, and talented. "Oh, your muscles are so stiff. You must be tense." I sighed a grunt of agreement. Her touch was soon transporting me to Cloud 9, where I floated between this world and the arms of Morpheus. I soon saw a flash of pink satin beside me. It was her robe. She straddled me, rubbing her body against mine. The warmth of her flesh and the slickness of the oil were soothing and yet arousing, as I drifted back to earth from my near slumber. My senses became sharply aware, feeling every soft brush of her skin against mine, the hardness of her nipples brush against my back. Her lips, warm now, kissing the back of my neck. The smell of her hair and her perfume, the burble of the tub. I felt a sudden coolness as she rose to her knees. I was already feeling at home beneath her body, and felt instant regret at being separated from her bosomy embrace. "Turn over." I rolled over and looked up in time to see her descend on me, her mouth on mine, her hands on my cheeks. And her hips straddled mine, and started a slow, intense, rhythmic grind on my cock. I understood then that this wasn't just about my pleasure anymore, it was about hers. And it was a good thing that I was enjoying it as well, for she had me captive in her pursuit of it. I began a slow swirling grind back, and she suddenly froze with a gasp, her face twisted intensely. I sped up the pace, and she gasped again and again. "Oh, you..." She devoured me, her tongue forcing its way in to my mouth, invading me, holding me down. And I could hold on no longer, cumming in an enormous release, all of my loneliness and despair being freed in that instant along with the surge in my hips. ....................................||.................................... And that was how I came to make Brenda's acquaintance again. It was just a teen summer fling that we had as kids, when we were young and foolish and thought we would live forever. We thought that happiness would always be forever free and easy, that we would effortlessly find our ways in this world. We're older now, and know that sometimes being happy takes a little bit of luck along with a lot of hard work. It's almost fall now. Maybe, just maybe, we can try to pick up where we left off all those many years ago. The sun was almost fully above the horizon now. It's time to get back in the cottage and make some breakfast. I have some sausages and pancakes ready to go. Brenda will love it.

No Alexis, you won't be waiting too long for the next part. Will, say.. now do? :grin: ................................................................. The warm night air fluttered around us, the bike purred beneath us. I heard the wind flutter and her occasional remarks. I caught whiffs of her perfume, fresh cut grass, the night air. Her arms held me close, and I felt her firm breasts push into my back as she stroked my chest with her hands. I rode on, flushed and breathless, her head on my back. That ride was magical. I didn't want it to end, but as all good things do, it had to. "Hey, where can I take you?" "I'm on.." She named a street in the West End. I pulled up, a big old house with a verandah and a swing for two on the porch. White picket fence. She slipped off the bike. "I can't let you in. My roommates are home." "Oh, that's OK. Let me see you to the door." Before she could protest, I was already off the bike and starting up the walk, my boots clumping on the concrete in the dark. We ambled slowly up the verandah stairs to the door. "Thanks. I had a good time." Even in the dim light, I could see her smile. "Me too. Can I see you again?" She opened her purse and wrote her number on a slip of paper. I thanked her, then turned to go. She had her keys out, and was about to unlock the door when I looked back. It really was a lovely evening. I didn't want it to end. I walked up behind her, put my arms around her. Nuzzled her hair, kissed the back of her neck. She froze with surprise, and gasped. I wondered if she would stop me. I heard her exhale slowly, then she relaxed. She turned in my arms, and her mouth was on mine, our tongues duelling. My pulse raced, my breathing became shallow and deep. I stroked the back of her neck, palmed a single perfect butt cheek with the other hand. She broke our kiss. "You brat!" she said breathily. "You can't come in." "We don't have to go in." I looked toward the nearby swinging love seat. It was a dark, moonless night. She looked toward the house for a moment, bit her lower lip. She said the most magical word, the most delightful music to my ears. "Okay." We were on the swing in a moment, our hands already on each other, our mouths open to wordless communication. Our tongues sent semaphores to each other, flagrantly transmitting our young lust. My hands were on her breasts, kneading them gently. She moaned, every so softly. She spoke softly, almost a whisper. "Did you bring anything?" I would have made a lousy boy scout. I hadn't. The idea of anything happening at the party other than getting loaded with my buddies had never seriously crossed my mind. I started to inwardly curse the heavens for my poor fortune when she said, "That's OK." She glided her fingertips down from my chest, over my stomach, down over the bulge in my pants. It was my turn to gasp. She looked at me, a mischevious grin flickering at the corners of those full lips. I felt the warmth of her palm through my jeans, the gentle sliding pressure of her slow movement. Then felt the zipper pulled. I can still hear that zipper opening, the brrrpppt like ripping silk as she opened the portal to new delights for me. She reached in and flushed out her quarry. This fox had full control over her den. A small tug, and my cock was free and out into the open air. She kissed her index finger, then pressed it to mine with a smile before kneeling over my lap. She engulfed my cock with her mouth, the slick warmth unlike anything I'd ever experienced. My pulse thudded in my ears and I panted with ragged breaths as she moved and swirled. My conscious thoughts were blasted away with the sensation, and she pulled away, finishing me off forever with a firm grip of one dainty pink hand. I saw stars. ...................................|.................................. That was the start of my first college summer romance. The world was so big in those days, and I wanted to drink it all in. Our romance shone brightly, bright as a newly minted penny. We became inseparable, her and I. We would take long rides on my bike, picnicking in the countryside, making love in the tall grass as the leaves rustled and big fluffy white clouds meandered slowly overhead. I would pick her up early in the morning from the bar where she worked, and we would go for long walks along the river in the dark, whispering our secrets to each other. I remember that night at this cottage, so many years ago. Diving naked off this very dock, skinny dipping under the midnight moon. Laughing, bundled up in blankets in front of a roaring fire. Still naked, our hair wet, passing a bottle of cheap wine between us. I was happy in those days, but I was too young to know it. Our newly minted penny changed over the summer, as the days shortened and the nights started to become cool. I started to notice things about her that bothered me. We started to disagree, then argue. Our penny was tarnishing, and it no longer resembled the shining icon it was at the beginning of the summer. It was time, that late August so many years ago, to start thinking about going back to school. Our summer romance went the way of so many summer flings before us. I went back to school, and she kept tending bar. I graduated from college that year, and sold my bike, bought a car. Got a job. Moved on. And never heard from her again. (to be continued)

Wow! Thanks, everyone, for all the birthday wishes. It was a pretty quiet birthday for me this year, but I hope to make up for it soon with a certain special CERBite. You'll all hear about her soon in my tales, I'm sure.. ;)

It's summertime. I love summertime. Endless evenings of sunlight, long walks along the shore at the cottage. The smell of the barbeque and the way that sweet grilled meat tastes even better alfresco. Who could ever forget, it was the time of year when things were hot, sticky, breathless, and everyone was oh so lightly clothed. And for me, summertime is at its best out at the lake. I sat on a folding chair out at the end of the dock. It's early, very early. The sun is about to rise, and the deep purple of the sky about to give way to the reds and pinks of the new day. Mist swirls delicately over the water. It's cool this morning. Although it is still August, I already have my flannel shirt on, and my cup of coffee is steaming. All is quiet, but a moment later I hear the plaintive cry of a loon off in the distance. It was a timeless moment. It could have been anytime for me in the last twenty years. But the sunrise, the mist, the loon, could have been any time in the last twenty thousand years. It was a moment for a little moving through history myself. I found myself reminiscing, between these greying temples and behind the fine lines at the corners of my eyes. Brenda. The reminders of her surround me, and it's inevitable that I would think of her today, though it has been years since she was here last. It was a summer, so very many years ago, when I first met her. It was a time before pooning, a time before responsibilities, before mortgages, before marriages. It was in my simpler college days, and a Friday after a dull week at my summer job. I'd just been paid. My bike was full of gas, and I had a pocketful of cash for some of life's little necessities. The rest of the summer beckoned out like a highway to the horizon, with its endless possibilities. And I was going to a party with a couple of my buddies. A house party, at a friend of a friend of a friend's. Life was good. The party was loud, it was crowded. U2 and Guns & Roses blared from the speakers, as I looked around. There was no one I recognized, and my buddies had already disappeared when I turned to look for them. I shifted the case of liquid life's necessity I was holding from one hand to the other. And then I saw her. Long curly strawberry blonde hair. Creamy pale skin. Serious-looking tortoiseshell glasses perched on a button nose, framed incredible blue-green eyes peering out from behind red lashes. A light smattering of freckles. Full, rich, gorgeous coral-pink lips that didn't need lipstick. She wore a simple t-shirt and jeans. So simple, so ordinary. But there was something about her. Something that struck a chord, and spoke to a longing that I never knew I had, but suddenly and with great clarity realized the depth of. She was alone, snacking on some chips. She must have sensed my staring at her, for she turned. I smiled, and she grinned shyly back. Bon Jovi wailed in the background. "Hey. Great party, huh?" Oh, god. Was this the best I could do? She smiled at me, an amused look widening her grin, lighting up the room with its incandescence. She was so pretty it almost hurt to look at her, like a cartoon caricature of a girl. So much cuter than real life. "It's ok." Her words were lukewarm, but her body language was unmistakeable. She turned toward me, standing close by, giving me her rapt attention. "My friends call me Birdie." "I'm Brenda." "Well, Brenda. Buy you a drink?" I held the case of stubby brown bottles toward her. She took one, twisting off the cap, raising the bottle to her lips. I can still imagine that moment in slow motion, her full lips pursing, the intense pink of the inside of her mouth exposed as her lips parted momentarily, the cold dewy bottle pressing suggestively to her lips. I moved the case of beer to hide the front of my jeans. Hey, I was nineteen. We talked, we laughed, we danced. I'm sure that there were other people at that party, but I hardly noticed them. It was almost 2 AM, during a momentary lull in our conversation when I leaned forward and kissed her. I moved back to look at her reaction. Her eyes twinkled, a shy smile crossed those bee-stung lips. I closed my eyes and kissed her again, mouth opening, my tongue touching hers. Bliss. "Wanna go for a ride?" "Yeah." The prolonged heat wave made the night air close and heavy. But it was a perfect night for a ride to cool off, and she stepped on as I started the bike. Her arms wrapped around me and felt her rest her cheek on my back as we rode off into the darkness. (to be continued)

Thank you Mutau and Alexis... it's really a pleasure to post here. I'm going to post one of my longest tales over the next few days. I hope you enjoy it.

From the very first moment I met Brittany, I never ever knew what to expect. I still remember our first time well. She greeted me at the door, and I stretched out my arms to give her a hug and kiss. My eyes were closed when she gave me a light nip on the nose instead, her lips already twisted into a mischievous grin when I opened my eyes in surprise. But before I could say anything, she was already pulling me into her bedroom, plucking at my shirt buttons, pulling at my belt. Oh, she was wild. I still think of late one summer's night. Fucking furiously doggy style on her 27th storey balcony, the stars twinkling down at us. The traffic noisily streaming by below as the warm summer breezes swirled around us. The afternoon her tiny body was tightly wrapped around me as I stood, thrusting and panting against her uncurtained window, the brilliantly sunny city teeming outside. I marvelled at her creativity, her bottomless resourcefulness. She would always find something new for us to do, something exciting. She was a multitude of flavors, none of them vanilla. I remember the exquisite pleasure of being bound and blindfolded. My remaining senses becoming ever so more acute as the tornado that was Brittany first lustily sucked on my cock, then rode me hard, thumping the headboard loudly against the wall. I think that we did Greek. To this day I'm still not sure, she only smiled when I asked later. There was the unexpected thrill the day she hissed in my ear, "Fuck my mouth. Hard. Now!" And I remember the fire in her eyes as I slid down her throat, again and again. The muscles of her throat milking me dry as I came and came and came, my breath rasping in my own throat, sweat rolling down my temples. Things never got stale for us. We never did the same thing twice. She wasn't like the other ladies I'd known. We never said much when we were together, we never shared little tidbits about our lives. We never kissed. But she was exciting, a big piece of habanero pepper after walking in from my outside whitebread mashed potato world. There were lots of ladies who could give me a sweet, soft and gentle girlfriend experience. But she was something special. She always made me feel heroic. A superman. Like I was starring in my own personal porn video. One bright sunny April morning, with the snow melting and the promise of spring hanging heavy in the air, I was in that mood. The mood to run, to jump, to burst out of my skin. The mood for something wild. There was only one woman to call. "Hey, Brittany. Been a little while. Can I come by later?" "Hi, Birdie." A pause. I wondered for a moment if she would beg off today. "Um.. that would be OK. But can I see you somewhere other than the usual place?" "I'm just glad to be able to see you. Where?" She gave me the address. I whistled a low whistle. "Wellington Crescent? You're coming up in the world. The usual time? Great! See you then." ...........................||........................... My car slowed and my jaw dropped as I neared the house. Behind the tall wrought iron gate and the circular driveway was a huge limestone mansion, leaded glass windows and copper clad roofing. A Bentley was parked out front. I parked my modest little subcompact car behind it, and stepped outside still agog at the grand home. I stood before the imposing oak and wrought iron front door towering above me and rang the bell. Somewhere off in the distance, chimes rang. After a moment, the huge door slowly swung open. There she was, radiantly beautiful as always. But today, there was the trace of a furrow to her brow, just the suggestion of dark circles under her eyes. I stepped through the doorway, and saw the grand entrance hallway, curving staircases winding on either side. I saw a pile of boxes stacked just inside the doorway. "Hey, nice place. Are you moving in?" I gestured at the boxes. She hesitated for just a fraction of a second, and there was a flicker of something in her eyes. "Something like that." And with that, her arms slithered around me and her mouth came up to mine. My eyes were still open, then blinked with amazement as she kissed me gently, her lips barely brushing against mine. I closed my eyes, and my tongue touched hers. Our tongues glided against each other's, little living things with minds of their own, locked in their own tiny caresses and embraces. Her mouth was the natural steamy wilderness of the rainforest at dawn, and our tongues were Adam and Eve, naked and unashamed. I broke away. I couldn't remember the last time we kissed, or for that matter whether we'd ever kissed at all, but this was a sensual delight to more than make up for it. "Wow. Nice. I wasn't expecting that." She blushed. "You like?" I smiled. She blushed! This wild and uninhibited lady, this paragon of playfulness was blushing? What in the world? What other surprises did she have in store today? What new positions, what toys, what new delights? Without another word, she took my hand and led me up the stairs. Her hand was soft, dry, and warm in mine. I'd never noticed before how small her hand was, how neatly it fit in mine. I saw now how light her step was, grace and gentle feline steps as she tiptoed up barefoot. She gently stroked her hand on my back as we walked down the upstairs hall. She looked up at me with a soft expression before clasping my arm, putting her cheek to my shoulder. I noticed for the first time how fine her blonde hair was. Standing so close, I saw that the rich color of churned honey was her natural color. How lovely her hair smelled, how soft it was against my lips as I nuzzled her scalp. This isn't like the other times, all those wild times. What in the world? We turned the corner into her bedroom. There was a massive dark wood four-post bed, a fine lace bower above it. A crisp white duvet and many lacy white pillows completed the ensemble. Whoever's place this was, they had some good taste. I briefly looked for restraints on the bed posts. We stood at the foot of the bed. She looked up at me with an expression I'd never seen before. Desire. Longing. And just a touch of sadness in her eyes as she reached up and kissed me again. Now I was completely confused. I'd never seen Brittany like this before. I'd never quite thought of her as anything other than someone who could always pull out another over-the-top stunt, another wild and crazy time. I'd just never thought of her quite in this way. But something soft, something caring just seemed right today. She melted in my arms, as we climbed up onto the bed. We were tender, we were gentle. ...........................||........................... "That was wonderful, Brittany." Her eyes gleamed with pride, and she smiled. "Call me Debbie." This looks like it was going to be quite the day for revelations. "So, Debbie. Am I going to be seeing you here, from now on?" She was silent a moment. "No. This will be the only time. I'm moving." I looked around, and saw the framed photo on the night table. Funny how I hadn't noticed it before, in all the excitement. It was a picture of her with a man. They were taken on a beach somewhere. A tropical vacation, perhaps? They were beaming in it- so obviously in love. It was an old photo, the colors having faded to creamy yellow tones. I suddenly had the feeling that the man in the photo would be sleeping in this very bed tonight. The penny dropped. It all made sense now. She was moving. She was leaving this house behind, she was leaving this man behind. And today, after all the times that we'd seen each other professionally, she was letting me see a little of the real her. She didn't want to be Brittany the PSE SP today. She just wanted to be just Debbie. Just to be herself, to feel a little loved, to feel wanted by someone today. I don't know why she chose me to share this bed today. We'd never been especially tender or caring to each other before. Perhaps it was just luck, I just happened to wander by just at that moment. But perhaps she saw something else in me that I thought I'd hidden away from her. The need to give love, to nurture, to show a little tenderness. Perhaps this is the end of my time with Brittany. Perhaps this is the beginning of my time with Debbie. Perhaps this is goodbye to them both. Perhaps I should just shut up and kiss her again.

Thanks mutau, but I don't think of it as a duel. I'm a lover, not a fighter.. and this is more of the kind of contest where everyone comes away a winner. ;)

I've read Alexis' "I Haven't Even Met Him Yet" tales with fascination. They are intriguing and deeply arousing, and I can only but envy the lucky man who has captured her attention. But I got to thinking that there is another tale here. It is the same story.. but from the man's viewpoint. ............................................................................................... This board, this electronic watering hole is both a delight and a curse. Oh yes, a curse, but in a good way. They bring people together from all over the country, people who might not otherwise ever find out about each other. The ladies here are a delight. They give form to the dreams of a simple prairie boy, giving me something to think about through these ever so cold and lonely winter nights. I fantasize about meeting some of these faraway ladies, knowing it will never happen. And therein lies the curse. But among these wonderful ladies, one woman stands alone. She slips silently, gracefully among us all. I had watched her from afar, her posts at turns entertaining, thought provoking, arousing. I quickly found her web site, where I saw she had good looks and grace to match her polished persona. I read her site and sighed.. knowing she lived so far away. I know we will meet. One day. I don't know how and I don't know when, but oh yes, we will meet. I can see it all now. .................................||................................ The door swings open. And there she is, wavy streaked hair and brilliant white teeth, intensely blue eyes smiling back at me. I gaze into her eyes deeply. I'm as nervous to meet her as she is to meet me, and after saying a quick hello I take her hands into mind and kiss her fingers softly. Her smile widens, and her eyes take on a soft expression. There's no need to say anything. We've already broken the ice with our posts, with our PMs. I watch those orbs of blue as we put our arms around each other and my mouth meets hers. I kiss, softly, tentatively. I raise my hand to the back of her neck, under her long hair, and I stroke. I feel the soft blonde hair there, her smooth pale skin. I close my eyes and drink in her presence, her subtle scent wrapping around us, drawing us even closer. I open my mouth and my tongue meets hers. Her mouth is warm and rainforest fresh, her slick tongue dueling with my own. We're finally alone. The door to the whole world is closed behind us. We're finally free to give rein to our fantasies, to be who we want to be. To dispense with our public personas, and to uncage our private ones. I pull away. "You know, the stories you're read. I've shown you my warmth. Would you like to sample my heat?" Her head tilts as she smiles, puzzled. "Sure, Birdie. Whatever you want." Whatever I want. So innocent a statement. So dangerous for us both... but I heard the lady. Heat it is. I take one last look into those beautiful baby blues and reach up to stroke her cheek softly. And smile. I push her against the door and her back hits it with a thump. She gasps in surprise. I take her hands in mine and press them back against the door over her head. I have her pinned, my body very close to hers, my mouth inches from hers. I can feel her now rapid breath on my face. I watch her carefully. This is our first time, and I don't want to scare her. But a slow smile eases its way across her face. I think she's enjoying this. I pounce on her mouth. My tongue is thrusting roughly now, forcefully pressing my lips to hers. I hold her wrists above her head with one hand as I reach down with the other, fondling her breasts through the stiff leather corset. Fuck this. I want skin. I unclip her corset slowly, methodically, one snap at a time. There is a soundless whump! with every clip undone, her body bursting the corset with its slow release from its black leather bondage. The corset falls to the floor with a clatter. I keep holding her wrists as I take one of her nipples into my mouth and chew tenderly. I can hear her breath, heavy now, as her breasts rise and fall. I look up. Her eyes are closed, her mouth is open in a silent moan. I release her hands from my bondage. And I fondle her breasts as I nibble and lick her nipples, first one, then the other. She holds my head, weaves her fingers through my hair as I play, a soft moan slipping from her mouth. My hands are free. And I take her cheeks into my hands, kneading, stroking. I reach back to peel off her black skin-tight leggings. She stops me. "Wait. Me first." We both fumble as we unclip my belt, unbutton my pants, unzip. She pulls down my pants and boxers in one smooth motion, then lunges at me with that mouth. She looks up at me and smiles. She moves her head slowly, smoothly back and forth, back and forth, all the while looking into my eyes. The sensation is intense. Warm slick wetness engulfing me, ever so slowly, brushing all thought from my mind. She's enjoying making me writhe. Perhaps this power play is a shared feast for two. And with a naughty grin, she speeds up. Her eyes narrow as she grins, her face becoming a blur. And that's all it takes. I can't hold back any longer. Fire rages through my groin, my belly, my legs. I shudder, my eyes tearing up. I open my eyes as I pant thanks through my silly grin. She's smiling up at me, wiping her mouth with the back of one well-manicured hand. It's my turn now. And I'll show her what's what, my mad skillz, show her what I brung. When we finally meet.

Alexis, what a sensual and erotic tale! Once again, I envy the man in these tales. He must be grinning from ear to ear, knowing that he has fired your imagination, and looking forward to moments ahead together. I trust he will return your attentions- in another installment, perhaps?

This tale, this tale, of my secret crush, is a tale that cannot be told, for though it is unfurling it has yet to unfold. I think of the words of Natasha Bedingfield in the song she does so well. She says it much better than I ever could. And she's much better looking than I am, to boot! ;) I am unwritten, Can't read my mind I'm undefined I'm just beginning The pen's in my hand Ending unplanned Staring at the blank page before you Open up the dirty window Let the sun illuminate the words That you could not find Reaching for something in the distance So close you can almost taste it Release your inhibitions Feel the rain on your skin No one else can feel it for you Only you can let it in No one else, no one else Can speak the words on your lips Drench yourself in words unspoken Live your life with arms wide open Today is where your book begins The rest is still unwritten, yeah...

Alexis, this is the most erotic and stirring of your posts yet. As I read it, my breath grew quick and shallow, my pulse raced. This tale stirred my imagination and well.. other more corporeal places. ;) This man is very lucky indeed, to have stirred your imagination as well as igniting your passions. You may need to have a defibrillator at the ready for when the two of you finally meet, for I fear for both his mortal heart as well as his spiritual one!