A Promise Kept

As I was driving yesterday, the song on the radio flashed my mind back like the Enterprise going into warp drive. The song, the multi-octave range of the voice, its sweetness combined with its power. Theresa did the song even better than the original artist. It was one of her signature pieces.

I suppose the song hit me so hard and sent me reeling back because like then, I’m in a melancholic, reflective frame of mind these days. Then, it was a woman, too. She continued to reject my studied advances even though I knew she welcomed them. And she did eventually come around. If anything, when Marty knows what he wants, he is persistent.

I met Theresa in a European ski club.  She was definitely a torch singer. Her voice was magnetic, and the fact she had a stunning face didn’t hurt the attraction one bit either. She was English, very solidly built, shoulder length dark hair with eyes the color of Yorkshire coal.  I won’t bore you with the courting rituals, just know that they worked. Which was interesting because Theresa did not screw around on the road. She loved her husband deeply, and was devoted to her vocation, so wandering off the path so to speak was a very unusual experience for her. But for several days and nights that week she did.

Poor Robert! He had recently moved to the West Coast, and now we would see each other and play together but once per year. And here was I, abandoning our traditional pub crawling adventures to seduce and be seduced.  He was forced to come up with his own play activities. Robert, of course, well understood.

Each evening I would catch Theresa’s last set at the Club which would be followed by a wild night of sex and wine in her room. I so delivered on the promises she yearned for and couldn’t find at home. And her pillow breasts, sweet, thick lips, and hungry body provided the sexual respites I keenly wanted and needed. We craved what each could deliver, there, and at that time. All through the witching hours of the dark alpine night and through the morning we would have at each other.

Then I would finally arise, return to my room, get ready and meet Robert and the others on the mountain for lunch and a drink, before an afternoon of hard skiing. At the best of times I could barely keep up with him. His technique and finesse were far superior to mine. But I was fit and my legs were strong , so I  could stay with him and the lead group throughout the day. But not this year. My lack of sleep through the week hobbled me on the mountain. It made Robert’s hearty laugh all the more penetrating as he watched me struggle to keep up. I was the butt of his ribald jokes all through every dinner as he inquisitioned me on what happened through the prior night. My silence and knowing, Cheshire cat smile drove him crazy.

Finally the week was done. I was to leave and Theresa’s gig was up. We never delved into each other’s hearts. We dared not. The most hidden part of our lives and souls were not to be exposed. She made me promise to never try to contact her. It was just too dangerous she said. For reasons I’m not certain I fully appreciated at the time. But I was younger then.

And I’ve kept my promise.

Midweek Fantasizing – The Portrait

f69bb7a5004e07fb8630c02b4eb07c0aShe was at the coffee shop. Catching up on some writing. One of those incredible beauties, don’t you know. Shoulder length blonde hair, slightly tussled. Maybe she had come from a workout because she was wearing exercise clothes that hid her figure. But didn’t really, because they actually revealed a lot. That her body was likely as close to perfection as you could imagine. She could have been in her mid 30s, but looked younger. Beauties have a way about them, they always look younger than they are.  She was probably a stay at home mom, hence the afternoon Starbucks break on the way home.

She frowned into her laptop as she reread something she had written.  Absently she looked away from her screen, to the right. He was staring at her, but looked down when she saw him. He was sort of cute, in a nondescript way.  Dressed casually in jeans. Short brown hair. Maybe about her age.

She went back to what she was doing. Though after a minute or so she couldn’t help but look out of the corner of her eye. He was definitely staring.

She pulled out her phone. She texted her lover

“I’m in Starbucks and there’s a guy staring at me”

“That’s not unusual.” her lover texted back. “You’re a stunning woman.”

“I think he’s drawing a picture of me … ”

“Cool!” the lover wrote back.

After several seconds the lover wrote, “I have an idea for you. This is what you’ll do.”

After she read his next text the woman wrote him, “You’re terrible. No wonder I love you. I’ll do it.”

She pushed her chair back and got up. The young man watched her in anticipation as she walked over to his table. He shuffled his papers away.

“You’re drawing me, aren’t you?” she asked, looking down at him unemotionally with her big grey-blue eyes.

“Yes … yes … I … am”, he stammered.

“Well I want you to know something.”

” … yes?” he whispered.

“My lover told me to tell you I am his very hot submissive. You think I’m hot don’t you?”

“Yes … I do.” he managed to get out.

“And he’s older.  A lot older. But oh sooo … ” her voice trailed off as she was momentarily lost in thought.

“And when I wake up in the morning the first thing I think of is sucking his beautiful cock.”

The artist’s eyes opened wide, and his face flushed.

“My Dom just thought you should know. It might better infuse your art. He thought the sketch would be so much more intimate if you better understood your model.”

The artist smiled wanly, and nodded as he looked up at her above him. He didn’t say anything.

She turned and walked back to her laptop. Started writing again. Smiling secretly. She was a good girl.

 

 

 

Sometimes I Get Embarrassed … When Girls Talk

I have decided to revisit certain posts from time to time. Call them a Marty-Replay.  Posts I like. Or I’m happy with how they were written and catch the moment just right. Or are particularly relevant even now. But mostly that I like. Here’s the 2nd.  I’m sure most of you are not familiar with Marcie. If you are curious, here is some background.

Here    and   here

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.

 

My Christmas Witch List

Boudica_Modern_by_quickreaver

Boudica_Modern_by_quickreaver

I have decided to revisit certain posts from time to time. Call them a Marty-Replay.  Posts I like. Or I’m happy with how they were written and catch the moment just right. Or are particularly relevant even now. But mostly that I like. Here’s the 1st.

Beautiful Boudicca. I wish I could call you mine. But no, I can’t.

When you arrived late to the gathering, I found myself at the other end. Trapped, away from you. I saw you glance my way so many times. And send me smiles and eye missives.

Finally you motioned for me to come to you. It had been over 4 months since I had even seen you or talked to you. And now talk we did. Standing nose to nose for more than 30 minutes, we caught up.

But it was much more than catching up. I saw the repeated flicker of want in your pale blue eyes.  I peered beneath the exterior, glimpsing into your depths.

I have always known of your powers. We are few who recognize. And my knowledge gives you pleasure.

I wonder if you and Cassandra would get along. Celtic princesses, mystic sisters of the same spirit.  Your pale blue, her olive green. The Artist and the Warrior. You would know each other and understand, identify. But you two are very different. I wonder.

Then your husband grew impatient. And drew you away.

I await your text. Or are you awaiting mine?

 

Rachel, Rachel, Where Are You?

I met Rachel many years ago at one of those college gatherings they have in the big city. It was just before Easter that year if I remember correctly and at the end of the night phone numbers were exchanged. She was a short cutie. Short in stature and with short brown hair.  She had pert little breasts that just wouldn’t lie down. And those eyes. They giggled all the time.

Two weeks later I called her up and asked her out to a party for Saturday night. Nope she said, I’ve already got a date. Some other time, maybe. Long story short, as my party was ending (I went stag) I called her up. It was very late and she was already in bed. Alone I might add. Rachel then asked “Why don’t you come over for a nightcap or even a coffee if you want?” I quickly affirmed my intention to visit and not too long later  she was greeting me at her high rise apartment door. Rachel was wearing a bathrobe under which I highly suspected she had nothing else on.

We had coffee which didn’t do much to sober me up. And we talked. Quite a bit as I recall. Eventually it came time for me to make my move, and verify exactly what was under that bathrobe. We had been doing some easy necking on her bed, so it wasn’t going to be a big deal to find out the answer. Or so I thought.

“Uh-uh Mister. You don’t get to play with the toys even before the first date!”

Gee, what was I thinking there? Rachel was not as easy going as I thought. My charming self had its limits, obviously. 8281954-middle-eastern-woman-in-a-determined-refusal-attitude[1]

I was going to have to back off and be patient. Two things I was not used to doing. Ultimately Rachel was going to be a learning experience. A well worth it learning experience. And I might have taught her a thing or two along the way.

Girl Talk

It was like a girls night out. Except the boys tagged along. Three couples sitting around the pool on a warm evening. Marcie and I were on a winter break and had booked a week at a Mexican beach resort. During the evening meal of our second day there we had started to chum around with two other couples around our age.

After dinner we adjourned to a patio near the pool for drinks and conversation. For some reason the three women sat beside each other in patio chairs, while the men were together opposite. As the cheap Mexican red wine flowed, the inhibitions began disappearing like a rapidly outgoing Caribbean  tide.

The women were all extremely attractive. There was the tall Chicago blonde with below shoulder length Farah curls and the 38Ds. Then there was Virgina beauty, short with long raven hair complementing her cute button nose, tight little ass, and 34Cs. The men didn’t really have much to say. We were more interested in listening, I guess. Wine induced, the girls’ conversation became very sexual, very quickly.

It wasn’t long before Marcie got into describing the evening we arrived. How a few Mexican beers had led to a walk on the beach as darkness was setting in. How in the blackness of the night, the softness of the zephyr off the sea, and the effects of the beer we felt totally alone. How I sat on the solitary beach chair, beer can in hand facing the sea, and how Marcie knelt and took my cock deep in her mouth. How she slurped noisily  How after several minutes of that she grabbed my hand and I pushed her to the sand on all fours and took her roughly from behind. How as I pulled her hair and she grunted while climaxing a group of people could be heard strolling nearby. How we couldn’t have cared less.

Chicago eyed me with a sly smile. Virginia Brunette’s eyes opened wider. I was on the hot seat and I could feel my face flushing a bit. Good thing it was early evening and the light wasn’t so good.

There was more wine and more girl talk. Lots more. And it started to get dirtier. Chicago blonde explained how in order for her husband to get fucked at all, he had to perform cunnilingus just right on her, and for the length of time and number of orgasms she felt appropriate that night. She made it quite clear who was the boss, and who gave the sexual directions

I flashed her my “that’s not how it would be with me Hottie” look with my deep blue eyes. And she nodded back in agreement. I looked over at her husband and even in the dimming light I could see him silently slouching lower in his chair.

Virginia Brunette, not to be out done, filled everyone in on how she took care of her husband. Apparently she had a coterie of 4 or 5 men. Periodically one would be invited to their house in the Washington suburbs for the evening, for dinner and drinks with her and her husband. Which would be followed by raunchy sex with Virginia Brunette. In the bedroom with the lights on. While husband stood in the bedroom doorway to watch and listen. At the appropriate command, he would be allowed to undress. And should she feel generous, she would give him permission to stroke himself while he watched his beloved wife in the throes of outrageously noisy sex with the visitor. Then after her upteenth orgasm, if she was feeling really generous, she would go to the doorway and finish him off with a hand job.

I had always wondered what those Beltway civil servants did with their free evening time.

Marcie was loving it. The other men, not so much. Marcie had this laugh, that became raunchier the drunker she became. She was very drunk now, and the laugh was an outright cackle. Given the spirit of the conversation, and fearing the worst from her mouth, I suggested it was time for us to call it an evening. I wasn’t really interested in having my personal modesty tested any more than it had been. But she wasn’t interested in leaving.

“You know Marty has just the best cock I have ever had” she blurted out. My heart sank.

“It is such a good length, and nice and wide. And oh, does he know how to use it on me!”

“Marcie! Enough!” I could feel my whole you don’t-really-know-me, I’m-so-respectable world becoming a distant memory if I didn’t get her to quit soon. But I feared she was just getting started.

“But what is really amazing about Marty is how incredibly hard he gets! Like hot, hot rock! Yes, that’s it, hard as rock.  With super big and hard veins. I have never had a cock in all my parts that is so hard!’

Chicago Blonde raised an eyebrow in my direction. “Really, Marty?” she purred. I knew I was squirming noticeably even in this light. Could they see my sweaty brow? I’m pretty private, and the discomfort I was beginning to experience was, for me, stomach turning.

Virginia Brunette eagerly slid forward in her chair. “How often do you get to Washington, Marty?”

Damn this was embarrassing. Normally I would love the attention these two beautiful women were directing my way. But not like this! It wasn’t me doing the selling. I wasn’t in control at all. And I couldn’t handle it.

“Marcie, we’re leaving now!” I commanded

“I’m going to finish my drink. And my story!” she retorted

Uh-oh. This was not good. Though usually very compliant, Marcie had a stubborn streak at times, and I didn’t want to test it. I wasn’t going to win if I did. That was certain.

“Well I’m going back to the room,” I huffed. It was a gamble on my part. I was certain Marcie was terribly horny, but she was also enjoying her girl time. But I couldn’t handle the spotlight, I knew that for sure. At worst, I figured she’d be along in 2-3 minutes.

I was right, of course, it was under 3 minutes when she joined me in the room. I have no idea what else she confided in the group. And I didn’t ask. But she got one helluva spanking that night.

 

All Good

Despite our inability to physically meet up lately, we have been getting closer and closer. I find myself not only highly attracted, but I’m becoming very attached. Every day I learn more about you. I’m understanding what you like, what you want, and  where you need to be pushed. Push you I shall.

I like that I can tell you always get what you want. I like even better that you want me. And what I will do. And what we can be. All good.

I like your style.

Boudicca

Boudica_Modern_by_quickreaver

Boudica_Modern_by_quickreaver

Beautiful Boudicca. I wish I could call you mine. But no, I can’t.

When you arrived late to the gathering, I found myself at the other end. Trapped, away from you. I saw you glance my way so many times. And send me smiles and eye missives.

Finally you motioned for me to come to you. It had been over 4 months since I had even seen you or talked to you. And now talk we did. Standing nose to nose for more than 30 minutes, we caught up.

But it was much more than catching up. I saw the repeated flicker of want in your pale blue eyes.  I peered beneath the exterior, glimpsing into your depths.

I have always known of your powers. We are few who recognize. And my knowledge gives you pleasure.

I wonder if you and Cassandra would get along. Celtic princesses, mystic sisters of the same spirit.  Your pale blue, her olive green. The Artist and the Warrior. You would know each other and understand, identify. But you two are very different. I wonder.

Then your husband grew impatient. And drew you away.

I await your text. Or are you awaiting mine?