waiting...

A hand rests lightly on the bottom of the leather wrapped steering wheel. Reclined in a bucket seat, he sits waiting, sunglasses at night covering half-closed lids. The soft but persistent sound of rain, washes out the sounds of the city. He waits with the radio turned down, loud enough only to mark the passage of time. His cock, the only thing not torpid. It strains against the zipper of his jeans. Slowly and painfully his stiffening shaft bends sharply back upon it self. He reaches beneath his boxers and corrects his course.

Relaxed again, he half-dreams of the woman for whom he waits. His cock swells with every reminisce. Kissing the freckles on her back. The curve of her shoulder into neck. The smell of her pussy, moistening. The firm but gentle stroke of her hand on his tumescence. Her smile as they fall asleep.

A pair of bright red shoes appears on the stairs in the distance. Stalking clad legs appear with the next step. A red dress and then a soft face appear from the stairwell in the near-distance, with the next steps. He draws a breath sharply with recognition. He tenses slightly, at the sight of her. His cock, jerks up above the waist of his jeans, fully aroused.

His pulse speeds. Desire clouds his vision.

He draws a breath, then exhales slowly. He starts the car and pulls forward. A sly smile creeps upon his lips. He can smell her, already.

Give thanks.

She stood behind the fire's light as it itself into the unknowing void of ashes. Her face lit dimly. The glow of embers casting weird shadows up to her forehead. It didn't not suit her. But then there was nothing I could think of that didn't suit her.


Yeah, I guess you'd be right in assuming I was in love. It 'twas weird stuff, to be such. I still can't say it with ease. But there it is.

And then she turned away. The glow turning her white slip colors; a rosy twilight. Twilight suited her. Wither it be, morning or evening.

She turned to look behind her. She turned to look beside her. She turned and found my eyes and gripped them with hers. And she smiled, the mischief rising from her heart to breasts to shoulders to neck to chin to lips to tongue to nose to cheeks to eyelids to eyes to forehead and fell down her back as she released her hair to the wild.

Now with her hands she reached her shoulders, a bit of goose flesh following in her finger's wake. She plucked the thin straps of her white silk slip gently between her thumbs and fingers. She guided them with slow diligence, like an admiral positioning her ships, she laid them to rest on her upper arms. Her nipples began to appear under the silken fabric, springing from silk as tulips do when the earth livens from frost.

Her majesty, darling of my heart, leaned over, carefully avoiding flinging her long hair into the fire pit. The tops of her breasts being lit gently by the remaining glow. Her pulled her arms free of the straps and crossed her arms quickly over the slowly descending garment, halting its progress. My id booed. My ego cheered. My erection grew.

She stood up straight, and shook her hips. She slowly approached, alternately popping each hip with a step.

A few steps more, and all that covered her smallish breasts, were her slight arms. The garment now only being held up by her hips. A shimmy or two and nothing would keep it from the ground. With each frolicking step, she caused my cock a smallish seizure. I reached forward hoping she would had finally stepped inside the boundary. She was close. By straining against the ropes holding me fast, I somehow manage, with my big toe, to pull her petticoat over the ledge of her hips.

She quickly stepped back, removing her right arm from her left breast, she scolds me by shaking her finger and giving me a stern look. Her expression could not keep up with her left nipple. As her breast jiggled with the shaking of her finger, her nipple was the conductor of my orchestra, keeping time with my cock's pulsations, my balls vibrating, my heart pounding.

She laughs and her arms fall down to her side, now tugging at the waist of her white lace topped, silk panties. I watch as a spry little love hair rises over the waistband, and then I am hit with the smell of her sex.

I try to stand, my eyes widen, my cock surges, the hunger hits me. I want her, NOW! But the ropes hold me fast and prevent me from standing.

She has seen my erection grow and laughs at my struggles. She pulls down her waistband a teeny bit more. A flock of black hairs comes tumbling out and gets pressed against her pubis as she lets go the waistband, and another wave of her scent.

She laughs again as I go through the same motions again.