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“What’s wrong?” she asked.

She had caught me in a private pity party. I was staring out of my apartment window, looking at the playground across the street. I was looking at the kids playing on the equipment, and I had singled out two boys in particular. One was around eight years old, the other was around four. The exact ages of my sons.

“Nothing you can really help with,” I said, “just missing my boys, is all.” I turned away from the window. Missing my boys. Missing my family. Missing my income. I shook my head. This was the chain of images that tempted me to consider the Solution of Messrs Smith and Wesson in the past. In that moment I was truly grateful my lady was with me.

“I know you miss them,” she said quietly. “I’ve met them, remember? They’re great kids. I miss them, too.” What a pair we were: she could not have children for medical reasons, and because of my divorce I could literally not afford to have any more. And we both liked my kids. Hell, we both liked kids, period.

“You love them, you send them cards, you buy them presents at Christmas and on their birthdays. And you spend as much time with them as you can when you do see them. What can you do if she won’t let them come? You know she always pulls this when you two fight about money.” She tilted her head and thought for a moment. Then she said, quietly, “Why don’t you tell me what really bothers you about the situation?”

I thought for a minute. “It comes down to this: I’ve lost everything I’ve ever had. I’ve lost my house, I’ve lost my kids, I’ve lost half my income, I’ve lost my credit rating, and I’ve lost my self respect.” I thought for another few seconds, “By the time I’m finished paying child support, I’ll be five years away from retirement. I won’t be able to retire, not when I have to hand my ex-wife half my paycheck for the next umpteen years!” I felt robbed. It had been two years since the divorce, and still I could not let the anger go. I was a senior engineer, and my take home pay was the same as a starting teacher. And it was not going to get better for a very long time, if ever.

“So,” she continued quietly, “the divorce robbed you of everything?” She touched my hand, took it in hers, and squeezed it.

I shook my head and smiled. “It did give me a few things, I’ll have to admit.” I chuckled. “Like a few grey hairs…”

She ran her other hand lightly up my other arm, and across my chest. “Anything else?” she said, her eyes sparkling.

“If you’re trying to use sex to get me into a jolly mood,” I said, “you are very close to succeeding.”

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Sweetheart, as I re-read your hot letter, I am right at his time eating grapes and I am thinking … of each as one closely resembling your [tag]nipples[/tag]. I touch one (the left one) with my tongue. It is glistening now as I flick my tongue back and forth over it. It begins to harden as my moist tongue probes it. I run my tongue back and forth over it as your nipple starts to elongate and resembles a thick fat eraser as it starts to become engorged. I am now savoring the flavor of the sweet slit of the moist opening in the grape. I know you would help me cup your warm breasts and squeeze it for me, so your nipple protrudes forward. That’s right my Sweet, squeeze it so the nipple stands out and pushes forward towards my mouth. Gee, I just blew a wisp of air onto it, and your teat got a bit more harder. You are so hot tonight my Darling.

I wish you were right here next to me and I didn’t have to imagine that these grapes resembled your nipples. I noticed too that both your aureolas are a darker brown than usual. This is due to you are now getting so hot for me during this foreplay. I savor your nipples again by pushing your left nipple by using my lower teeth to grip just under the bottom of your nipple. Now I can flick my tongue back and forth across your nipple and against the roof of my mouth. Oh yes, Darling I do! I can see that too is starting to drive you WILD!

I know you are starting to get very hot because you are trying to get my member out of my pants. But, WAIT…you want to my hot mouth to push your whole breast into my mouth…yes I know it feels good! You are moaning now…I am trying to push your whole fleshy mound into my mouth. I am slowly sucking it deeper and deeper until my whole mouth is now covering the whole firm fleshy mound. Yes I know if feels so good!

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Boy, it’s frustrating. This morning, the unseasonably cold temperature and a filling bladder ganged up on my short sleep cycle to wake me at 6:30. And, after I get up, I can’t get back to bed (not that I was particularly sleepy). So now I have to sit here and watch you not log in. Sigh.

I’ll pass the time somehow. Where was I? Kneeling in front of a tree in a park somewhere, I think. You standing before me, the breeze catching your hair and the airy fabric of your skirt. Concentrate on that for a moment — it could almost lift you away, couldn’t it? Perhaps if you held out those arms and breathed in, holding very still, the wind could just pick you up and steal you away with it.

I’ll have to hold you tighter, then; I certainly wouldn’t want that to happen. You’re feeling the breeze against your skin, tasting it through the stuff of your blouse and skirt, but you’re also feeling my hands on your bared hips, rubbing them gently to keep you warm. (Which works better? The friction of my palms against your skin, or the delirious feeling you get just from knowing my hands are pressed against you?) And, most of all, you feel my eyes.

I return to kissing your stomach, my lips barely moving but gliding across the silken surface of your stomach, painting it as if with camel’s-hair. It is one of the most frightening, ecstatic things I can imagine right now. It is, in fact, the only thing to surpass the delight I feel at sliding my fingertips around the waistband of your underwear, inserting them slightly underneath in order to taste the wonderfully extra-special taboo of your delta and lower hips. (click to read entire story…)

The day starts as any other, except for the fact that I can’t concentrate. It’s been a long haul for this software I’m developing and the stress of overtime has taken it’s toll on me. The time passes very slowly as I mold this design into shape. I can’t wait until 2:30 rolls around.

As I pass the day, I continually open this one drawer in my desk, and stare at your picture on the desk hutch. The picture is one of your devilish smiles and reveals a part of you which is undeniably fantastic. In the drawer is a plane ticket to Boston. The flight leaves at 4:30, with a connection in Detroit at 5:15. I can’t wait.

Time finally passes and my boss tells me to have a good time as put on my jean jacket and head for the door. I beam and say “I will, definitely.” I run out to the parking lot and hop into the car.

The engine barks as I turn the key, and I let the clutch out quickly as the tires give that all too familiar chirp. I’m in motion, heading toward O’Hare. The usual speed on these excursions is about 90. I’m too wired and cannot slow down, I’ve got 800 miles to go today. (click to read entire story…)

Once upon a time, in an apartment complex in a distant town, I received my very first successful airstart. Since I was of the advanced age of thirty, this came as quite an overdue pleasure. I had been dating the girl of my dreams (wet and dry) for several months, and we had fucked and sucked on many occasions, but I had never been able to fully relax and let myself go (er, cumm). But this night was different.

I arrived home from school about 9, and when I opened my apartment door I knew right away that this was to be a GOOD night. Just inside the door were Julie’s shoes. A little farther in were here stockings. Still farther, her skirt, then blouse as I made the turn toward the bedroom. Panties and bra made up the last “steps” to the bed, where I saw something I never will forget. Julie was lying with her back on the pillows, propped up against the headboard, with her ankles crossed behind her neck! She was sucking a pale yellowish liquid from a long plastic tube (which must have come from the lab where she worked). The tube wound around her right leg two or three times, and disappeared into the curly blonde hair around her pussy. What a sight! What a shock!! What a turn-on!!!

At this point, my heart was in my throat. She smiled and asked if I’d care for some champagne. Confused, I looked around for a moment until she said “no, silly, here!” and she handed me the tube. I hesitated, but then figured, what the hell, and sucked on the tube. To my surprise, it was champagne, although a little warm for my taste. “How?” I asked. She reached down to where the end of the tube entered her pussy hair, and spread the lips of her pussy apart, revealing a big red party balloon, which she had filled with a little champagne, inserted the plastic tube, and closed it off with a rubber band. Gloriosky!!! (click to read entire story…)