Helen’s Intrigue

I am beginning the process of getting to know Helen. Just the beginning.

She’s cute. And younger than me, of course. That’s the way things tend to go.

I’m much more interested in chemistry than age“, she says.

Her submissiveness intrigues me.

Let’s be honest  … it draws me like a magnet.

I send her instructions for tasks to amuse me. She diligently complies.

Helen lives about 2 hours from my village.

We need to arrange a meeting.

A She Devil Stalks

The Cute Eastern Devil has asked me out for a beer. I said yes. She works in TV. No, you perverts, she’s not a transvestite. She works in television!

People think she’s all so innocent. But I know she is not. I can feel it. She’s very young, too. Way, way too young for me.

No need to tell me to be watchful. I have no intention of being careful. None whatsoever.

I know when I’m being stalked. I’m going to enjoy the thrill of the chase. What I mean is the possible thrill of being chased.

My curiosity is really in overdrive.

Midweek Fantasizing … So I Picked Up this Hot, Young Chick in a Bar

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I walked into the bar after my long day on a Monday night in a far off town I was visiting. Just off the highway. Several pickups parked outside. None of them foreign pickups either, I might add.

Inside, the bar had a real cowboy look to it. Even in the dim light I could tell this place was a bit of a dump. But it felt like a comfy dump, if you know what I mean. The U-shaped bar straight ahead only had 4 or 5 people around it, and there was a couple playing pool off to the right on one of the tables. A small, empty stage was further back. Probably used on the weekends, not enough customers tonight that’s for sure.

I sat my sorry ass down on a stool on the right side of the bar. There was no one on that side, so that suited my wish to be alone. I was also close to the tiny, open kitchen so it would be easy to sample the burgers and ribs. Yep, you guessed it. I’m a real foodie, too.

The woman serving behind the bar was probably all of 22. Very cute, very blonde to her shoulders, very built, and sporting a very low cut top. I don’t mind saying my view was going to be excellent. Even when she served the other side of the bar, her shorts-clad tight ass would merit all of my nuanced focus.

Very Blonde pulled my draught while I studied every inch of her. Not much could go wrong with that I figured.

As I lovingly sipped the tall cool one, just for a second I took my eyes away from Very Blonde. I nearly choked! I know my eyes widened. Directly across from me on the other side of the bar, nursing a beer was another blonde. While Very Blonde was young and cute, Far-Side Blonde had short hair, maybe a decade or so more in years, and the perfectly beautiful face that suited the cool sophisticate she obviously was. How could I tell all that from 40 feet in a dimly lit bar? Years and years of experience, my friends. An expertise that has been finely developed and tuned.That rarely fails to deliver.

But, holy shit … Far Side Blonde was looking right at me over top of her beer. No! She couldn’t be! If she was earlyish 30s, she wouldn’t be looking at me. I may have had some looks back in the day, but to her, this vintage has way too many years in the barrel to even merit a glance from such a beauty. Probably watching the couple playing pool behind me, I bet. I turned to watch, too. But no, they were no longer playing. What gives here?

And what is Far Side Blonde doing here? Not exactly her normal milieu I’m guessing. How did I miss her when I came in? You’re losing it, Marty-boy! Big time. Distracted by the shiny 22-year old baubles. That’s 5 minutes of high quality gawking you’ve just squandered.

I’m trying not to be too obvious as I stare at her. Right! You’re not obvious at all Marty, my friend. She’ll never notice.

Wait! She’s getting up … is she leaving? No, can’t be. Her glass is still 2/3 full. Umm … she’s walking around the bar, my way. Gulp, now what am I gonna do?

Oh, whew … she’s going to the bathroom. They’re not far from where I’m sitting, near the pool tables. That was close. Did she glance at me and give me a half smile as she walked by? No, I don’t think so. Your imagination is playing tricks on you again, Marty.

I went back to my beer and took a long sip. Was I perspiring? I think I was. Not only was Far Side Blonde stunningly beautiful, but she was extremely well built, too. Oh my! Oh my! Oh my!

I was lost in inappropriate thoughts of her when I felt a presence to my right.

“Hi there!. How are you?” I heard in a dulcet, silky tone.

There she was … beside me, touching my elbow with her hand. I was aghast!

“Ummmm …. ummmm … h-h-hello” I stuttered in response. I just stared into her eyes.

“I watched you come in.”

“You d-did?” I asked in an amazed voice.

“I did. I haven’t seen you in here before”.

“Um … no … I’m just here for a few days. Taking a course.”

“Oh? A course? What on?”

I hesitated.

“Uhhh … uhhhh … uhhhh … I … for …get.” I stammered

Far Side Blonde chuckled. “Oh, I see. I’m sure it will come back to you.”

“Probably. Later” I added.

“Is your hotel near here?” this beauty asked me

“Oh, yes. Yes, it is. Why do you ask?”

“Because I want you to whisk me out of this place, and ravish me all night long in your hotel room” she affirmed. “Then repeat in the morning.”

“You do?” I gasped. I sat there stunned.

“I do! So let’s pay our bills and get out of here. Now!”

This actually hasn’t happened, of course. But as I was driving home from work, this idea popped into my head. I think it would be fun to enact with Cassandra. Pick her up in a certain bar she is acquainted with. Or her me. Whichever works. Fun to play out, no?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mid Week Fantasizing (X) — Of Opposite Poles and Dichotomies

This isn’t exactly fantasizing. It did happen this past summer. But as I awoke with a very hard erection this morning, thoughts of the hotel room came flooding back. Pay it Forward at Joyce Gordon Gallery backside of flier For well more than an hour she had had an orgasm every several seconds. No more than 15 to 20 seconds apart for 60+ minutes. I had fed her voracious need with my cock, my tongue, her vibrator, and for the longest time, my fingers and hand. Four fingers worked best. Pressing her g-spot firmly sent her over the precipice and usually meant a warm, powerful gush into my open palm.  I was falling deeply for her as I studied her face the whole time. I spoke softly to her, I whispered my love in her ear.

There were no words back, only slight nods in acknowledgement, the pleasure too numbing.  Placid, classic beauty shifted through the seconds into a wanton, needing goddess of the feminine divine. She arched, she contorted, her green orbs rolled back. The slightly parted lips revealing the pearls of her teeth rounded into a perfect “O” before the animal groan to her climax. The off white hotel room’s walls surely were over the saturation point absorbing the flood of orgasmic grunts. While one hand pressed in her pussy, my other would gently enclose her slim neck, or circle and tweak her erect nipples. Fingers lovingly stroked her cheek and then could slide down  and brush along her abdomen and drop to fondle along the inside of a thigh. Each light touch of my hand stoked the embers of ecstasy that coursed through her body.

At last my own wantonness began to return. I could feel the hardness happening. I half chuckled at nature’s perversity, the female’s ability to orgasm almost continuously when lovingly stimulated contrasted to the male’s requirement to regroup and refresh.

I told her to get on her hands and knees. She complied without a word and languidly, turned and raised herself.  I moved her to the side of the bed. As I felt her soft skin along the length of her back and my fingers caressed her upturned ass, I thought of the contrast she would be feeling as my steel like erection would enter her. I forewarned of the abrupt change with a quick, hard push down on her back, driving her head into the pillow.

I grabbed her arms and clasping her wrists with my left hand, I pinned them behind her back and jammed her down harder with my right.  Then using my right to guide, I slowly entered her dripping, waiting pussy. I heard … I felt … her gasp. Pumping slowly into her, my erection was stiffening like mad, as though I hadn’t already cum hard several times earlier.

The room held nothing but contrasts. Dim natural light slipping between darkened curtains shadowing the white lovers’ bodies. The young, beautiful, soft and nubile … the old, hard and grizzled. The warm … the cold. The south … the north.

I watched my reflection in the grey glass of the picture across the room. Taut torso, bending backward before each thrust. The act, a physical need as old as the beginning of the species, yet the emotional bond as deep as the human soul can dive. How can these polar opposites possibly attract? How can a momentary union connect and bond two so disparate creatures together perpetually as one?

Her breathing moved up tempo, her moaning intensified. I could feel her as she clenched around my hardness. Cries and gurgling were pushing me to the edge. As I continued to hold her wrists tightly, the walls suddenly echoed with her shout as she came hard.  Two, maybe three, probably four pumps later I, too cried out savagely. I held her, releasing her wrists, with one arm around the front of her body, my head resting gingerly on her back. More whispers in her ear. Then we decoupled, her head safely cached upon my shoulder.

Sweet, soft words and tender grasps and touching. I kissed her forehead, and then her lips Her breasts begged for my hands, her nipples my fingers. The touching commenced anew. The embers inside began to glow. This goddess was far from sated.

I knew four fingers would work best.

Midweek Fantasizing [VIII] – The Finish

I answer the door holding my breath. The wait all morning has been almost unbearably long. You are visiting on your lunch hour.

We kiss at the door, then stride to the bed together. I lie on the bed as you come around and continue kissing and fondling me. I have my hands all over your luscious body and then take firm control of your heavy, heaving breasts.

As you stand next to the bed, you slide off my jeans then grab hold of my hardening cock as it slips through the opening in my boxers. A small gasp-grunt escapes my lips while you kiss me fiercely.  Then with a deft move of your left hand you pull the boxers down to my knees. I complete the task, then remove my shirt. I lie displayed in front of you.

Before I know it my hard cock is in your mouth and your lips are caressing it’s length, top to bottom. Bottom to top. You pump my cock like you mean it; your tongue rolls around the shaft, the head, you lick like a panting dog in the summer. I arch into your mouth in an unwitting aid to have you gobble my length. In no time you have me in a frenzy I can’t control. But you can. As your hand fondles my balls you steal a glance at my face. I am practically drowning as the suction through your lips pulls the soul of my need into the cool olive pool of your eyes.

Your grip becomes firmer, your pace intensifies. I want only to give you my release. I cry to finish. I crave completion. The tight palm of you hand twists the shaft as you inhale all I can give. You have had me orgasm five times in the past 16 hours, the last time five hours ago just before you left for work. For an antique I have done well. Vintage Ferraris can still perform impeccably. They have been built to amaze. It’s in their DNA.

I yearn to empty into your mouth, but I can not. I can feel the semen rush to the gate, but the path seems barricaded. It is as if an internal battering ram smashes relentlessly at the exit, demanding freedom. But the door is barred, my glory imprisoned.

My frustration has reached its limits. My cock exits your startled mouth as I rise from the bed. As we stand facing each other I gesture for you to remove your remaining clothes. I need to see your stunning figure in all its glory. While you strip I turn and grab a pillow from the bed, tossing it to the floor between us.

I love the look of pure lust in your eyes as you look at me and slowly kneel on the pillow. Still tempting me with your eyes your right hand slides around my stiff, eager cock and slides it between your moving lips. I hear you gently sigh. I respond with moans of my own. My hands grasp your hair.  The sight of you kneeling before me, taking me all in, the feel as you speed up your motions sends me, finally, over the edge.

“Baby! Baby!” I gasp

I finish.

Your lunch break is over.

 

 

 

 

Midweek Fantasizing [VI] – Fireflies

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I day dreamed this yesterday

We walk into the hotel room. Though we are both tired from the long day, the fatigue does not dull our sense of excitement. It has been several weeks since we have seen and held each other, and we crave reconnection.

As we tenderly kiss, our hands instinctively roam the other’s body. I hear, and feel her sighing, reflecting the day’s travel weariness yet simultaneously being uplifted by the pleasure of being held and touched, and anticipation for what will surely follow.

I walk her across the room to the floor to ceiling window, curtains open, overlooking a stunning cavalcade of bright lights many stories below, 200 yards in the distance. She gasps at the miracle sight surrounded by and within the illumination.  From the darkness of our room it’s as if a hundred million fireflies announce the celebration of our reunion.

Facing the window, Cassandra slowly undresses, until finally naked, she moves to the window and presses herself against it. Warm flesh meets glass chilled by bitter late night autumn air. Nipples on heavy breasts are quick to point then harden as they are pinned to the cold pane.

She turns her beautiful face to the side to look at me. She smiles broadly.

“This is so amazing to behold” she whispers.

Transfixed by her beauty I can only look at her and say in return “Yes, it surely is.”

This I Believe

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I’m not sure if my face gave away my astonishment. Or the purity of my pleasure. I know I smiled. Very likely grinned, ear to ear. And I probably held my breath. Often with her, when she enraptures me, I just stop breathing.

Looking into my eyes with her olive green ones as I was holding her, she said it so matter-of-factly.  We hadn’t said anything to each other for a few moments. We were lying there, savoring the warmth, pleasure, and feel of each other. I remember breathing in the scent of her beauty, if that makes any sense at all. It does to me, because I absorb her allure, grace, and vitality with all my senses intertwined. I can feel her touch through my eyes, I notice her moods with my hearing, I can listen forever to the joy in her voice as its vibrations play across my skin.

Ours is certainly a different love. Many would not approve. But obviously, we don’t give a rat’s ass fuck what others think. Our love was meant to happen. How it did only confirms that, in my mind.

However we end up, in whatever way things eventually shake out, should the road ever end, this little bit of history that is ours will always have happened. And mattered.

“I’ve never loved any man the way I love you”

I’m choosing to believe this.

Sea Waves [VII] Cassandra Visits … Aftermath

This is the conclusion of the posts on Cassandra’s first visit. If you are a new reader or have forgotten, you can review what has happened here: Sea Waves [1]; Sea Waves [II]; Sea Waves [III]; Sea Waves [IV]; Sea Waves [V]; Sea Waves [VI]

We headed to the airport after a visit of almost three days. We sped along the highway quickly. Traffic was sparse.

We were very comfortable together, as if nothing had ever changed from all the time we had known each other. But the truth was, so much had changed. For each of us going into this first time together, we had made sure our expectations had been kept in check. We had never met. While we knew we were incredibly close, we also were under no illusions. Our closeness was all virtual, with telephone calls thrown in to heat up the mix. Over our 21 months of contact we had had squabbles. Some had lasted months. But even in the midst of those travails, something always remained. Something was always there. We always would come back. Why? I don’t think either of us knew (or know) why. We just did. We had to. It was never an option not to.

As we drove we talked. We touched. Touching had been so much a part of what we had shared these past three days. So much a part of what we had needed from the other. To be touched and held. So much a part of what bonded us.

There was no sadness attached to the visit’s ending. Quite the contrary. We both were on stratospheric highs. A high induced by the presence of the other. No imminent flight departure could negatively impact that oneness we felt. There would be no Distance that would keep our hearts separated. There was no Other Time.

We arrived at the airport with time to spare. Deciding to sit in my car in the parking garage, we bathed in the emotion that enveloped us. At one time she had sought out a new lover because of her need for passion. She had never connected me to that feeling. I had never understood why not. Now she admitted oh how blind she had been. She had never felt the passion more.

Prior to her coming, there had been trepidation about the sex. There would probably be none. If there were any, there would not be much and it likely would not be that great. I reminded her of a comment she had made while we were on the phone one evening last autumn. A text had just come in from one of her former lovers. The lover where the pure sex had been the greatest of her life. The text had set her mind awhirl, and she quite directly told me in that call to not ever think, should we one day get together, that the sex between us could ever approach what she had had with this man. At the time, that had dramatically saddened me. Cassandra is a highly sexual woman. Sex would always play a heavy role in any relationship with her. I wasn’t sure what to think. What to say. What to do. In the end I decided it could not be a competition; I would have to be myself and trust that would be enough. It was. It is. Cassandra had never been so sexually satisfied. Been so passionate. Been so sensual.

As we sat we knew we would be together a long, long time. A couple. One for the other. Committed. For as long as the waves rolled in.

 

 

 

Midweek Fantasizing (IV)

couple-bed-9[1]We were texting early this evening and I was complaining that I had to find the energy to head out the door and go to the gym for a second workout of the day. I wasn’t really looking forward to it.

Her : Be much more fun to get in bed with me

That brought an immediate flood of high octane memories surging through my brain. Our three days together and the impact it had on us both

Me: Yes it would! I’m a lot more eager for that. I really want to see your beautiful face up close. See you nod your head and beg “Yes. More. Please!”

Her: Mmmm. Yes please

Me: That was soooo good wasn’t it, Baby?

Her: Best ever. The very best ever

 

Sea Waves [VI] – Words and Scenes

I apologize to you, my poor readers. This has been so drawn out. The truth is that I have been so overwhelmed with everything that happened over those three days that I have not been able to organize, prioritize, and itemize all that transpired. And so I have given up!

Rather I have decided to give you a stream of consciousness view of my memory from that incredible meeting.  These thoughts will bear no relation to order of time, nor impact.

In case you have forgotten here are the preludes leading up to Cassandra’s visit Sea Waves [I]  Sea Waves [IISea Waves [III]   Sea Waves [IV] and  Sea Waves [V]

Here goes:

Initial kissing and cuddling. Hands touching, squeezing, caressing. Bodies writhing. Clothing discarded. Naked closeness. No time for breathing. Massage. Wonderful taste as lips, tongue, mouth, and fingers meet pussy.  Sighs and coos. Arches, moans, more, time stands still.

Legs spread, draped over shoulders as lips touch, eyes meet and love is made.

French bistro lunch.  Worlds meet. Time fades. Orgasms, loud, will they hear next door?, touching, more touching, touching for hours, Greek dinner, mouth in a perfect O , part “oh” part gasp, part grunt; hours and hours of continuous orgasms, insatiability, begging, hand around slender neck, kneeling on the edge of the bed hands held behind her back, cock thrusting, watching reflection in picture over the bed, cupping pussy, fingers deep, hand so deep, gagging on cock, coma, eyes rolled back, wanting more, nodding yes, too weak to talk but still wanting more …

I will leave you with this scene. It was our last time in bed together, from mid morning to early afternoon.

“Baby, are you alright?”

She lay there. On her back, eyes wide, chin drooping. About 30 seconds later, her face turned to me and she softly whispered …

“What Baby? What did you say?”

At that exact moment, I knew she would never forget me. Even should she never remember the state her mind was in half a minute before, I knew she would never forget this. Though her cognizant mind may have been absent for a tiny block of time, her subconscious had totally absorbed all that was happening and had happened. Her total being was caught up in the sensations she had been experiencing for the past 3 1/2 hours. Her pleasure zones were close to overloading. They had even now overwhelmed her state of consciousness.

I have been with many women. And most loved sex. Many craved a lot of sex. But Cassandra is different. Very different. What exactly does “sexually insatiable” mean anyway? I now understand. Now I have seen it. Over 3 days we had several multi-hour sessions in bed. With my cock, with my mouth, with my hand, with my fingers, with my touch, with my voice, with her vibrator she orgasmed above me, beside me, and under me. I watched her ever so closely, her beautiful face contorting. I pressed closely as she writhed and arched, felt her body as she first shuddered, then shook, then quaked as the outbound energy roar surged through her entire body. Then the gush. Only to leave her whimpering and utterly spent.

For a few seconds only … as the force regathered and began its rush to another climax. This to be repeated for hours, the onslaught broken only by a few minutes of tender after care. My whispers, my touch, my hand cupping her tender pussy until I start with my fingers again.

“Can you cum again for me, Baby?”

Her eyelids heavy, she has strength only to nod slightly. And the tide rolls in, the waves begin to crash from within her again. . . and another hour of pleasuring begins…

“OHHHHH … OHHhhh … Ohhhhh … ohhhhh.”