A La Prochaine

We run you and I.

We run to stay ahead.

Something is always chasing us.

Our past.

Our shadows.

We think we have it all under control, because this is what we do; we’re professional runners-from-our-past after all.

And then, when we’re comfortably way out ahead, we’re ambushed from out of nowhere.

We’re caught!

Adieu my Lovely. I’ll miss you. Focus on the important.

I know you will.

I know your will.

A la prochaine

When Secrets Come

There is something very special when secrets are revealed. Without pressure or coercion. When they are freely given. They open you up. They release you. They free you.

She has entrusted me with several of her secrets. That very few, if any, know. Her thoughts, concerning her deep cravings, of her condition, her past, her activities, secrets concerning her closest family.

This is a very important beginning.

I Heard a Story

Bella and I had some alone time a few days ago.  It was quiet. And nice.

She opened up a bit … something that is very rare for her to do.

Bella told me of a past love. From many years ago. A man she met while living for a time in New York. She fell heavily for him.

She followed him to the other side of the globe, it was that intense.

The time with him was magical, and she had made up her mind to stay and make her life with this man.

Then he told her it wasn’t to be. It wouldn’t work. This was not what he wanted.

Crushed, she returned home to start life anew.

The story greatly saddened me. I don’t understand how such a gentle, gracious, beautiful flower could not satisfy this man.

Some things I know I will never be able to comprehend. This is one.


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.”






Sea Waves [IV] Cassandra Visits and Addressing the “Nevers”

This is the next posting about Cassandra’s visit. If you need to refresh your memory go to Sea Waves [I], Sea Waves [II], and Sea Waves [III]

Cassandra had arrived!

I’m here. I’m in the room. Just set my stuff down. There is a flower! Marty. I came to see you

I knew she had as I had followed her flight and saw it had landed right on time. But because of previous unavoidable commitments I was going to be unable to see her until the next morning. I had prebooked a room at the airport for her since her flight was so late to arrive. I wasn’t very happy about it, but Cassandra fully understood and soothed my feelings about it, reassuring me it would only help build the excitement. Of course, she was correct. I barely slept that night.

Early the next morning as I prepared, I noticed how often I stopped breathing. I think this is an automatic calming system I have. Otherwise I tend to go into excitement overdrive, and that is definitely a no-no.

As I drove out to the airport my mind wandered. I desperately tried to focus, but the adrenaline rush was frustratingly blocking my mind’s ability to concentrate.

Here’s probably a good time to interject this minor factoid:

Cassandra and I had never met! For real. In person.

Yes, we were one of those on-line couples, who had carried on a relationship comprised of 1s and 0s, and the occasional telephone conversation. You could most definitely term us internet lovers and the one fact remained … we had never met … never touched each other. Never felt the other’s breath on our skin. Never whispered in the other’s ear. Never sensed that emotional vibration through physical presence.

As I approached the hotel my heart began to flutter. Parking the car, I again tried to settle myself down. I shut down the engine and noticed, once again, I wasn’t breathing. I quickly walked to the hotel lobby and hit the up button for the elevator. Right then I began to notice a change. My nervousness had disappeared. I felt almost … serene.

One other little thing I should mention. There is a significant age difference between Cassandra and me. Now, I am partial to younger women, I confess. Much younger. But with Cassandra, I am pushing the age difference envelope way out there. It’s a factor.  How big a factor this would really be, I was about to discover..

The elevator doors opened on her floor and I headed down to the end of the hall to her room. Though I had a key, I knocked. I was ready for the next wave. It promised to be a big one

I didn’t have long to wait.



Sea Waves [II]

This is part [II] of Cassandra’s upcoming visit. You can refresh your memory with part [I] here

I have booked an airport hotel room for Cassandra when she arrives. Her flight will be one of the last ones in. Alas, I can not meet it. I have one of those unavoidable life circumstances happening. I won’t be able to see her until sometime the next morning.

Since I could not be there in person to welcome her to my city, I thought I would be considerate and cache in the room some meaningful items for her:

— a splendid bottle of one of her favored white wines on ice

– some sparking water which she enjoys to refresh after the long flight

– a rose in her favorite color on the pillow to hint of my presence the next morning

All good in theory. But getting to the hotel is proving to be a significant challenge. My appointment at the extreme opposite end of the city went long. As in way, way long. Which caused me to be in the midst of rush hour traffic toward the hotel. And today’s rush hour was one of the worst in recent times what with volume, and accidents. And my next appointment is also far from the hotel.

The rabbits’ feet and horse shoes better start their magic … soon.


Sea Waves [1]

I tend to be a bit of a worrier. Actually, I have to be honest with you. That is far from correct. I worry about lots of things. It’s often a relief when I realize the sun has risen in the east today, right on schedule.

Cassandra is set to visit me. For the first time. She lives far away. So you can imagine what somersaults my brain is going through. No, I don’t think you can.  Planes can be delayed, flights cancelled, plans changed. unavoidable life issues can intrude. What other things might happen that I have forgotten? I worry about those things too; you know the things I don’t know about.

You might think I’m over dramatizing this. You probably don’t know that she’s had to cancel before. Twice. A third time would probably pretty much do me in.  I need her visit. I need it to happen.

Here’s to good luck happening. If you’re in my town, don’t be looking for any rabbits’ feet or horse shoes. There aren’t any. Somebody has bought up all available supplies. Apparently he has great need of them. .

Behind The Mask

It’s not that I believe in fate. And certainly not astrology. But there is most definitely some unnatural force involved in all this. I plainly can’t explain it. Clearly it was through chance I found you. And that you played along with me.

The mystery woman intrigued me. I love a good mystery, don’t you know? I could see you wore a mask to the world. But how much of the covering was disguise? How much protection?

It was getting behind the mask, and discovering what was hidden below the elaborate costume you weaved that had me so engrossed. But what captured your attention? How did I ever manage to be close, let alone pierce your elaborate armor and the multilayered shields you employ to guard your persona? The Nevada odds makers would never have taken that bet.

The ride we’ve had! No amusement park roller coaster, no state fair Ferris wheel, no alpine switchback road can compare to the torrents and droughts and undulations we have tracked through.

Why am I still here? Why are you? What magnetic force seals our inseparable connection so tightly?

And now? Now that I have examined underneath? Now I have seen what is behind the disguise? I have peered through this outfit, more elaborate than any Venice carnival costume. And I see it fits you like a glove. Yes, it hides the blemishes you want no one to know of. You who are the mistress of control. But I know your concealed Ins and Outs. Your inhibitions, your insecurities, your inside secrets, your intricate conspiracies, your indiscretions. Your outstanding talents, out facing demeanor, outside shifts, outsized dreams, outward confidence, outlandish vanity.

Today I know all this. There are no more disguises, no longer hiding who you are. What at first you buried and now we laugh at.

Yet despite all I know, there is still mystery. The mystery of the force that draws our engagement, drives us onward, ever closer, deeper in love, more to a one. The power beyond our own wills.

I do so love a good mystery.



1567474457_835a36612e_b[1]Me: I’m not breathing right now.
Her: That’s not good. You need to breathe.
Me: When you float you don’t need to.

You have caused a lot. A lot of thinking. No, more than that. Deep contemplation. A tempest in my brain. Wait … that’s not correct. My mind is placid. Save for the bubbles.

A constant stream.  Small packets of thoughts, ideas, concern, joys. Bubbling to the forefront of my mind. Rising like a sparkling effervescence.

There are two people I try and be open with. Sometimes that means being brutally honest. Which has got me into trouble before, hasn’t it? The two? You. And me.

I think I’m being honest with myself. But I have become so polished at covering my tracks when I need to, maybe I’m subconsciously trying to deceive myself.  I don’t think so. I hope not. That would really piss me off.

I’m convinced I’m fine with his time. Whatever you decide you want. When you decide. And I have no problem with our time, how it will be.

I know you wonder. I’ve wondered, too. Some of that carbonation from my brain. I’m convinced everything will be as close to perfect as is possible given the constraints. For me. For us.

But late yesterday it struck me. I’ve really been focused on me, what’s been going on in my heart … then it finally hit me. This is all about you. You are the one needing answers. You need to understand what this is all about. You’re more confused than I am.

We need more bubbles.