This is an experimental idea. The first part is admittedly not very erotic - the reader is certainly welcome to skip down. It just began the way it did and I will not be at all put out if the potential reader does not care for it. I am relatively new with this attempt to write words/stories specifically erotic. I will admit that these same words are posted elsewhere, but I really like the atmosphere here. From initial evidence it seems that there are those who really like this work and those who really do not. Ah, but enough. It is late, I am going to bed and all that.


Arthur's almost constant caravel of ideational communication might have been better received and taken into the sympathetic minds of those around him if only he was easier to understand.
Even he was never surprised and rarely offended to know that many other people viewed him as a man frequently traveling within an existence all his own - and even in that existence he was often resting along the quieter side roads. They'd said it all his life, sometimes directly to him and it no longer perplexed him.
In his greener days it did bother him to the point of seeking various helps and moving his life into a direction more easy for others to understand, but it seemed he always ended up worse off for his efforts.
It was only in recent years that he ceased his labor to fix himself for the world and since that cessation he was a new and better man. It was better to know onself than to change for the rest of the world. The mental turmoil just was not worth the trouble.
Another day was begun for Arthur.
He ran his hand over his jaw and knew he was due for a shave but he was out of his disposable razors and he was far past due for a trip to the store.
Even his food supply was low.
He had always been an inattentive driver so long ago he quit bothering - no one dared accuse him of not taking into consideration the welfare of his fellow human beings.
When he traveled to the store he took the local bus but the last week the region was victimized by a seasonable but no less vicious snowfall and Arthur stayed in where it was warm and cozy rather than go and wait for that bus in the cold and blowing pellets of snow.
The atmospheric attack had settled down now and he vowed to make it to the store by the afternoon or no later than tomorrow.
There was food in his cupboards, dry soups and noodles that only required the addition of boiling water. He had enough coffee for perhaps two or two and a half pots.
In his refrigerator he had very little foodstuffs other than condiments such as yellow mustard and red ketchup.
"Vegetables. I should get vegetables, fresh and raw," he contemplated audibly but at low volume.
He had no eggs nor bread but he did have oatmeal, though he'd eaten oatmeal for breakfast for four days in a row, the last two days without milk; and he knew that if he did not get himself to the store for fresh eggs he would be resigned to oatmeal again tomorrow. Without milk.
A glance through the window towards a view he often took for granted, except when the skies were overcast for the stretch of days they had just been, captured his sight and the matter of breakfast immediately sunk into a sniveling triviality.
It beckoned him, the morning did.
It advertized a sky that was blue and unblemished; a sun that enhanced the otherwise nondescript and now-slumbering bushes. The winter had just proved that it was still alive and well, but man as well as all of nature sensed its latter days.
Still, Arthur felt a pity for the winter; it was so unloved by so many. Winter was not unloved by Arthur because it provided a time to seek within, which was among Arthur's most favorite activities. Yet, apologies to Winter, the prospect of wandering outside in short pants and the ability to walk in relative state of relaxation beckoned to him, too.
And it seemed that his erotic vitality came back to form when he smelled spring in the air. He had no partner to share his erotic penchants with and he did not feel less of a man or lonely with this current truth, except once in a great while. The miracle of masturbation kept him plenty satisfied since when he went inward he found flora that he considered stimulating enough to give himself satisfactory cums.
Hearty wholesome cums.
His mind was not now on masturbation or even any general eroticism.
He imagined his bare feet walking through soft dewy green grass.
Yes, Spring was due.
Spring was sweet.
But, the admitted undeniable pleasures that came with the perfume of spring, no cause existed to complain about what he saw outside just now; the blue sky and the sun that danced allowed no room for complaint and he decided that he must enter into that realm that existed past his door where he may do nothing other than stand around, close his eyes and point his face to the sun.
On the horn of a chair at the kitchen table hung his hat, which he lifted and placed on his head, brought the brim down to his eyes, and he then pulled his jacket from the chair back, swung it over his body, shooting his arms into the sleeves. He made his quick fitting adjustments.
A shoe felt loose. Loose shoes always pestered him, though he sometimes felt that he should relax anyway and allow his shoes to remain loose when they were, not to worry about retying the laces. He defeated the guilt and set the foot on the chair and retied the shoelace. It was fraying at the eyelets.
Razors and new shoe laces.
And vegetables.
And eggs.
Oh, and bread.
Maybe bacon, too.
He let his foot fall from the chair and down to the floor, where his sole met the floor.
The floor was tiled.
Like his face needing a shave the floor asked for cleansing. Neither was to happen today. Perhaps one may happen tomorrow. The shave was the most likely of the two.
The door to the outer realm awaited him and he swivelled his body until his frontal bearing faced the door. He saw there a beam of the sunlight that invited itself through the small window and doused a blessing into the foyer. The sunbeam illuminated the dust beings that some would call demons, but Arthur did not believe in demons.
One foot lifted from the tiled floor and moved past the foot that was stationary. Once that first foot was settled upon the tiled floor, Arthur understood that his other foot should now lift away from its place on the tiled floor and with the complex communicative messaging system his brain and his motor system hydraulically raised his other foot. It lifted from the tiled floor and outdistanced the other foot.

Once these movements were repeated over ten times, but less than fourteen, his body had moved from its original stance at the table and stopped less than twelve inches from the door but no more than eight.
The door remained closed but Arthur did stand in the light and he knew that if the dust beings that he did not believe to be demons but only the beings they were did not exactly live their lives as he lived his, he did believe they must be aware of an existence in their own way.
He believed this was why he sneezed when he did, for he did surely sneeze, hurling the dust beings through the air and some of them smashed against the door; but he smiled because he knew they were not harmed.
The sneeze interrupted what was until now perpetual forward motion. His arm had just begun to lift from where it hung at his side, and to stretch his fingers out so that he could grip the knob on the door.

Arthur paused in preparation for another sneeze, because he knew as well as any laboratory sneeze specialist that they often came in waves of two or three, sometimes more.
As Arthur surveyed the approaching moments it appeared that no further sneezes were among them. If more sneezes were among these moments they were hiding towards the rear, because those moments he saw in the distance were big mothers and sneezes could easily hide behind those.
Finally he believed that he was in the position to determine his own immediate future and he wanted to enter the outer realm all the more and so his hand lifted again, reached out and his fingers wrapped round the roundish knob and they closed around that knob.
He turned until he heard that telltale unlatching of the workings that remained invisible but only because of necessary barriers, yet he could not disbelieve because the invisible machinery did cause the doorknob to release the bar that kept it in place, that caused the door to remain closed.
If the latch had conscious awareness it may think that it was momentarily free, but it would realize quick enough that this freedom was an illusion. And even this illusion of freedom lasted only as long as Arthur held it this way. Thus the latch was ignorant of true liberty, since it was mostly forced - though it had no choice but compliance - to release itself from the tight hole in the jam.
Arthur now took a deep breath, rubbed his other hand down the soft but slightly rough material of his jeans and then, only then, he pulled his hand back, the knob in that hand and the door opened, though not without a sound which received rousing accentuation because of the overall silence in the house. The source of the noise was the hinge mechanism that allowed the door to swing open and yet to allow the door to remain in its place. The noise of the hinges was righteous indignation. They felt neglected. They tried to inform Arthur in their simple way that they would be quite delighted to receive new lubrication where their holes were fitted tightly with brass things.
Arthur thanked those hinges for reminding him and he mentally shook his finger at himself. He noted that chore and placed it at top priority but then he realized that he may be forced to face yet another truth: the nonexistence of 3 in 1 oil in the house.
Nor had he WD-40.
Now he would have to add a visit to the hardware store to his list of outer realm chores, unless he went to the more crowded supermarket which he did not care for because of the crowds. On the other hand, sometimes cute female forms worked the cash registers and even priced the meat products, thus giving him fresh masturbation fuel. This was no sure truth, because sometimes no cute female forms at all worked the cash registers, nor priced the meat products.
Yet the number of cute female forms that worked at the hardware was zero. And cute female forms did not often shop at the hardware store, either.
And so from the more pragmatic angle he knew were he to prepare himself for a short bus journey to the crowded supermarket not only was fresh masturbation fuel more likely than at the hardware store, but there it was possible to obtain all that he sought, including oil as well as vegetables.
And eggs.
And bread.
Oh, and coffee.
Plus other things.

When he swung the door open he let the knob leave his one hand and lifted the other hand which stopped the door from swinging back too far. He rested both hands on his hips, and he breathed in the outside air that was crisp and pure.
Yes, everything was okay.
The sun floated in the unblemished blue sea.
Now the soles of his shoes were placed not upon tiles but upon a small wooden step that was built so that it raised slightly off the earth, yet it remained in contact with the earth - it was stationary and it was built for utilitarian usage rather than for artistic meditation.

He allowed the hinting aroma of damp earth to temptingly caress his sensitivity. The fact that even some places here allowed the sight and smell of the bare earth this time of year was certainly nothing to complain about. Much of the ground was yet cloaked beneath frosted fabrication. That was Arthur?s own coinage. Of course, he knew that other people called it snow.
But never mind.
Because:
As Arthur prepared to move his steps over the places that bared the damp earth...

Meanwhile...

In another place, another time zone, two hours later than Arthur's time zone, a woman sat at her computer and signed on through her ISP.
She'd had a stretch of tedious long and normal days and a pleasure break was opportune.
Her husband had left in the morning to go on a business trip and would not be back for four days.
Housework could wait.
Three days she already set aside for pure play.
Then she might see about other duties.
The playground she planned to play on for these three days was her own body.
She'd just showered and while she showered she thought of erotic stories she'd read lately, and while the images flourished in her mind, her hands played with her body. But she left alone the one place, the humid private place, as she dreamed and played. Her soapy fingers pulled and pinched her nipples. The hot water sprayed against her and she felt her legs weaken.
Now she wore only a light blue towel wrapped around her body as she made herself cozy within the embrace of the padded office chair.
She took captive her smooth ergonomic mouse and started clicking it.
She raised one leg so she could practically rest her chin on top of her knee and she let herself feel her private lips open and a thin dribble of juice run down onto the seat. The towel all but fell away from her and she dared to run a hand down her leg, stopping just at the place where her thigh merged into the sensitive cleft that pouted. She reached a finger towards her clit, flicked it from under her hood and she immediately took her hand away.
But she didn?t stay away very long.
Now she lay her head back in the black cushiony office chair, and ran her hand downward again. This time she did not hesitate but she rubbed a finger along her slick lips, up then down, up then down, pushing just inside, moving up. She brushed at her clit again and her hips squirmed against the cool cushiony seat.
She added another caressive finger.
She fondled and flicked herself this way until she brought herself close to her cum and with sweet difficulty she again forced herself to stop.
Her eyes fluttered, her nipples hardened when she touched them with her dewed fingers. She put her leg down and she felt the wet place on the smooth surface she sat on and she rubbed her bottom over it.
Her fingers that looked as though they had just played in a saucer of hot honey touched the mouse and she guided it over the pad and clicked where she wanted to go.
She felt as though she sat in a vat that quickly filled with the purity of rosy body butter and budding raw sex.
She dared to place a hand just over her pussy; patted it to settle down, to try and wait. It ached for more of her touch; it loved and missed her so.
The site opened and she clicked again and then again and she perused the selection.
The site contained so many thousands of stories but she decided to save the experimentation for a later hour and so she searched for one of her favorites, one that she knew almost by heart but never tired of reading.

Yes, there the story she loved. It was almost as if they had become special lovers of a sort and this night it saw her from where it waited in the crowd; it called to her, happy to see her, so long it waited to see her again.
Now she leaned forward and the hand that she'd assigned to keep her pussy warm and ready pressed firm against her and she sent one finger inside.
She slowly fucked herself with this one finger as she read, seeing the scene unfold, feeling her juices pool round her finger, her walls gripping her. She put her free hand on the edge of the desk and repositioned herself so that her knees were tucked under her, her thighs spread and her pussy hovering over the shiny seat cushion.
She wanted to cum where the woman character came but it was difficult to keep the climax away. It was very close already.
The female character was tied down to a bed and two men used her body at their leisure. Some sequences revealed one man at a time using while the other watched or rested. Other sequences, like where she read now, featured both of the men using her body simultaneously.
When she got to the part where one of the men drove his cock into her pussy just as the other pulled from her lips and spurted his cum onto her face, Angela had to stop.
The story was far from finished and these men did not let the woman to cum for almost two more pages. Sometimes Angela let herself go crazy with the woman in the story, but it was obvious that today Angela was unable to parallel the story. The cum demanded her will and there was nothing else to do.
But she wanted to try once more.
She wanted the feeling so bad.
So bad.
She took her finger from herself and let herself calm down. She sat back and fanned her hand over her face, exhaling like she?d just eaten a hot pepper. She felt so exquisitely naughty when she again felt the slick wet seat against her bottom and a tight squeal ripped out of her, and her pussy demanded her hand again but she brought it to her face and she slowly licked off her juices while she rubbed herself against the seat, smearing her juices over it.
Feeling as though she was ready for another page, she returned her hand to her pussy. For now she let her fingers fondle her lips, and circle around her clit. The heat returned almost immediately. It was no use. All that mattered to her suddenly was that she let the fast sharp cum take her and do as it wished and when it wished, and that when was now.
The overwhelming hot itch pushed her to the seat back and she fucked herself with two fingers, pumping them in and out fast then faster; her clit reached so it felt the swish of the heel of her hand. Her thighs closed tight together and they squeaked against the slick seat like a wet hand rubbing a tight balloon. Her hand trapped against her rippling pussy she finally let loose the squirt and the cum filled her.
The room fell away, leaving her afloat in the midst of the universe, which turned out to be a peach blossom just her size.
The universe gradually dropped her back to her chair and returned her to a knowledge of herself. Head resting against the cushioned headrest, she covered her mouth. Always she took such pleasure in this aroma and what she felt. A cascade of bubbly giggles suddenly arose from where the cum lingered and curled up for a brief rest near her lap, ears pricked up for attention, and she let the little cum giggles spill out of her.
Sex juices puddled beneath her.
For a moment she felt a twinge of sympathy for men, like her husband. The sweetest soul in the universe made up the man that he was but no matter how he bragged beforehand, no matter how he strutted and swore, and no matter how he wanted, once he shot his cum wherever he shot it and whether it was much or less than that much, he was simply finished.
It was a perplexity for him, too.
How did one go from one desire to the other, all because of one orgasm?
How was it that a man who spent a day or perhaps two reaching for the flesh and the heart of women, thinking of sex; how was it that the same man, after finding satisfaction, was able to find instant new interest in things that he was not interested in before, like philosophy or international news commentary.
Sometimes on the good nights he?d come back for more after about an hour. This did not always prove fruitful because Angela sometimes pleasured herself, sometimes to two extra cums and then her own flames were cooled. Still, sometimes her husband returned to her just in time although as the last months and then the year traipsed by, these double features did not visit as they once did.
In other words she still had half the story to go and philosophy was the last thing on her mind.
Angela jumped from the chair, giggling again at the way the wet seat resisted her departure, it felt to her like she all but bounced to the kitchen.
A contented feline sigh purred from her throat; she hummed and danced to a tune in her head.
Again she wanted to run her hand against herself.
The best part of the story was coming.
A glass of wine with this one.
She returned to the computer and set the wine on the desk.
Then she quickly skipped to the bedroom and pulled open the drawer of her night stand.
She decided on the bright red vibrator and she was back at the computer where she laid her vibrator almost reverently in the seat. Then she said, "oh, some lubricant might be nice. Get it together Angie." She returned to the night stand and grabbed her lubricant. She reached under the head of the bed and grabbed her pillow. She scanned once more down her mental checklist then skipped back to the computer and set herself back into the chair.
She drank from her wine glass.
The tart sensation snaked its way through her body.
She returned the wine glass to the desk.
A liberal dab of lube on her finger she rubbed it in and around her anus, slow touches, massaging circles. A deep breath, exhalation, relaxation. There was no bad stage with this she did not do very often and she savored each one.
She loved spreading the lube around her sensitive place, feeling her body respond to her naughty thoughts - feeling the low heated tingle.
Finally she pressed the tip of her finger so that it slipped into her. Her breath stopped, her head slumped. It was all so smooth and so tight. She could not believe that she was about to put more there - and make it fit.
A plead of want stirred beneath her clitoral hood and sent a small stream up to meet the open air. She let it wait, she wanted to concentrate. It was not often she went here.
She continued to play her fingertip inside; pushing in, pulling out, touching her little rim, reveling in those sensitive responses. She once pulled out and stayed out for an extended moment and let herself feel the absence and call for more. She returned her finger, coated with more lubricant; penetrated just a little deeper each time. She blissfully closed her eyes, listened to her breath and added a second finger. She let the walls of her anus wrap around and hug. She let sighs respond. She let her clit and her nipples swell. Then she moved the two fingers in and out just a few times, further delicious adjustment and she pulled them out again, slowly, feeling the resistance, the bitter farewell.
More lube.
Another entry.
She loved the raunchy way this made her feel, knowing she was about to feel even raunchier; each time she heard the oily suction when she went in and out, her cunt dripped yet another drop of musky dew. Sometimes she fell to the temptation and she reached her other hand there, touched her clit, ran her hand over her pussy lips, but it made her want to touch more.
Finally, she picked up the vibrator, leaned towards the monitor and found the place she left off.
She applied liberal dose of lube to the vibrator as she read the story.
In the story, the men had squirted their cum on her face, once each; also on her tits, once each.
The first one that fucked her pussy pulled out and spewed his cum on her belly and the other was next.
At one point in the story they interrogated her, asked about her toys whether she had any and she confessed that she possessed a vibrator.

One of Angela's hands gripped the edge of the desk and the other readied her thickly lubed vibrator.
As the man in the story put the tip of the woman's vibrator against her ass, Angela did it with hers. When the vibrator in the story entered the woman?s ass, Angela pushed into hers, except in the story the woman felt it all in one motion and Angela only went as far as the tip.
Since this was not a frequent practice of hers it was as though each time was new. It was unbelievable to her that she had ever fit the thing inside of her. Each time she fought the fear and invited the sensation of raunch.
She dropped her head. The story had to wait. A firmer push of the vibrator into her, letting her walls grip it, let herself lose the urge to push and to let her sphincter send the recognition signals to her brain; then to pull it, suck it inside.
The tremors from her body reached the desk and the wine glass tottered, the thin crystal skirt knocked on the desk top like it was under influence of a poltergeist.
Another shove, this one emitted symptoms of desperation - she wanted it to fill her as she knew it would, but these initial entries, smooth and erotic as they were always made her feel as though she was to be ripped in two.
All this while her dew pot sent her liquor along her thighs.
She stopped the forward motion again.
The cylinder stretched every wrinkle of her sphincter into an ovular band.
Mouth hung open, eyes watery, hand pressed against the desk, her feet twitching back and forth, she looked back to the screen.
When the man in the story shoved the vibrator into the woman that was tied to her own bed, Angela pushed herself backwards until the vibrator touched the back of the leather chair. The vibe was driven deeper and she felt the soft pillow under her, her dripping pussy swinging against the folds of the cotton pillowcase.
In the story, the woman cried out when the vibrator went into her and Angela let herself cry, and then all the louder because she had the house to herself.
In the story, the man flipped on the vibrator at the highest level it had on it and Angela did the same thing. She held it inside her while she read the rest of the story, where the one man started fucking the tied woman's pussy, his body leaning over hers, his hands gripping her arms. He watched her face and drank like a fine whiskey her grunting squeals each time he pounded his cock into her.
The other man monitored the vibe, holding it inside, turning it and manipulating it back and forth, pulling it out, pushing it back in. His finger reached up along her pussy lips and touched her clit, rotating his finger around it.
With her vibrator finally buried inside her, Angela braced her knees against the embracing arms of the office chair and reached to touch herself.
Her fingers found her clit and she felt the pillowcase, squealed out a stream of giggles at the how soaked it was.
The woman in the story was not far now.
Angela was not far either.
Angela now lifted up all barricades of restraint and madly fucked the vibrator in and out of her ass, while her hand fucked her cunt.
She could barely see the words on the screen.
The man in the story held the vibrator inside the woman as his finger tortured her clit with incessant little taps and the other man moved himself in and out at high speed and then higher.
The man who worked the vibrator had the closest view and the most direct shot of the aroma of raw sex and pink meat being stabbed again and again.
The man who fucked the woman faster and faster dropped his head down and took a nipple between his teeth, pulled and twisted it like a bottle cap.
Angela took her hand away from the vibrator and pulled at her nipple.
Her hand was a buttery blur where she rubbed between her legs, her hips fraught between bucking forward and backward, the buzzing vibrator moving mercilessly in and out of her tight ass.
The man in the story pulled out of the woman?s cunt just when she topped the peak of the intensity, and the man jerked his cock, until his cum jetted out, arcing, landing like drops of skim milk against her stomach.
Angela brought her own orgasm crashing down onto her.
She grabbed her pillow and pressed her cunt against it.
She turned her vibrator to the lowest speed. It soothed and petted and assured and let her feel the contractions grip around it, feeling her cunt and her anus in slowed frenzy of sensorial communion.
The men untied the woman and she beckoned both of them to her arms. They held her, caressed her, placed kisses against her cheeks, ran fingers soft over her hair.
Angela turned off the vibrator, let it pop out of her.
She settled back.
The day was yet early.
And there were thousands of stories on the site.
Just then her afterglow was arrested when the doorbell sounded out.
Angela hurried to put herself together as best she could - pants, a large pullover sweater.
When she reached the front door she found two strange men standing on her porch. They were strange only in the way she did not know them and did not recollect that anyone, strange or familiar, was expected today. Otherwise they appeared quite normal and their speech was polite and their attire was clean.
They explained that they were peddling vacuum cleaners and asked if they may come inside and give her a complimentary demonstration.


But meanwhile, back in Arthur's world, as he stood in the crisp air and turned his face to the sun, he heard a vehicle turn into the driveway.
Opening his eyes and adjusting to the new sight abilities, he recognized the car. And he recognized the driver.
It was Minnie, a neighbor who lived no more than half a mile away but less than a third.
Arthur did not know much about her since he almost never pried into the business of others. If someone would ask him to place her age he would go no higher than upper thirties and no lower than mid thirties. She was divorced with a couple kids and she worked long hours at the diner in town.
Arthur felt a lot of respect for her as a person, at least what he knew about her, and although they never carried on intense dialogue whenever he stopped in at the diner for a burger or just a coffee she was always pleasant.
When thinking of women with prominent features of physical beauty, Arthur seldom found her among the images, yet whenever he saw her a certain quiet glow hummed deep within.
If asked whether or not he ever even passingly felt Things for her it is likely that his first response would be a quick and easy denial of any such feelings and he may give the one who asked such a foolish question his put-upon quizzical glare. But if pressed further for the raw truth he would remember and unashamedly say that more than once during a masturbation spree, and if he?d been to the diner that day, his masturbation fuel often featured Minnie. The images that he used featured nothing so kinky as others. With her it was primarily good old-fashioned throw 'em down and fuck 'em fuel.
Such the curiosity, he often thought, the different sorts of masturbation fuel he picked up from different women.
One checkout girl at the supermarket; he always saw her lips wrapped around him, and felt his cum erupt into her mouth and he easily saw it drip like melted ice milk down her chin.
Another, one who priced the meats, he always imagined having her tied to his bed and kissing her toes, then her thighs, then licking her cunt, finally letting her suck her flavor from his tongue. He always saw her twisting her hips against his face and the distorted glee over her eyes.
Yet another, one who managed the deli, had a way about her that he fantasized her with a strap on phallus and he tied to her bed.
Arthur spent many hours wondering if truth stirred within and one needed to only listen and feel and understanding was no mystery.
Since Minnie had never come to visit him this was a most unexpected sight, but the car was parked, engine silenced and her form walked towards him before he made sense of the unexpectedness.
Arthur did not immediately recall more than a passing observance of Minnie anytime beyond the occasional half hour or sometimes hour that he sojourned in the diner when it happened to be her shift. And he was admittedly astounded because she was quite different in her civilian attire - her jeans that fit her tight rather than the impersonal waitress pants. The sparkling light blue jacket she wore and the way she allowed her genuine smile easy existence rather than the tired and forced cheer that endured frequent challenge and assault from dissatisfied diners. A glow that matched the sunshine in the overhead sea waited only for gentle encouragement to push apart her blinds.
When she called out a greeting to him in a way that lent further proof to her naturally bright soul it was easy for Arthur to reply in an equally natural and pleasant way.
But the nearer she came to him the less he considered her sunny nature and the more he recalled the way she always featured in his masturbatory moments, in which delicacy and sunshine seldom appeared. Scenes wherein her body twisted beneath him. Scenes wherein her legs draped over his shoulders and he only pumped his cum into her, his arms wrapped round those legs. Occasionally in these fantasies, he shoved his fingers into her anus. And once in a while he pulled out of her rippling cunt and put his cock into her anus, often bringing him the more distant cum that jetted over his belly and landed almost to his neck.
When he now saw her he partly feared that she somehow knew what went on in his privacy and he felt a sliver of shame; but he mostly felt urgent want.
She said, as though she was a frequent visitor who had extracted some of his most personal thoughts, "I know you don't get out much. That's your business. But I wanted to let you know about a dinner downtown. It's being sponsored by the Arts Council.
"Yeah, I know a bunch of snobs, and a bunch of plastic freaks. But I got two tickets. I guess there's some classical quartet or something. I need a date. I thought of you. It won't kill you to get out more. Wanna go?"
"Uh, hm. When?"
"Tomorrow night. I know. Short notice. If you can?t or don?t want to, that?s fine. I just thought I?d ask."
She shrugged.
"We can make fun of them. I haven't had a good laugh since, shit I don't remember. But the music might be really cool. Somebody gave me the tickets. I have them. Might as well use them, you know."


It has been said earlier that Arthur was mostly content with his self-manipulated orgasms and that he did not feel as though he was less of a man because he enjoyed no immediate contact with willing flesh.
This did not mean that he would turn down the opportunity if it came along.
"I appreciate your offer. Uh, I can?t see why not, right now. I do need to get to the store."
His voice trailed off, his hand went meditatively to the back of his neck.
"But I do have some coffee. If you want to come in you're more than welcome. It's my turn to serve you - and it's on the house. If you're not doing anything."
"Sure. Why not" And I'll be glad to run you to the store tomorrow, if you can wait that long. Or maybe even today. I?m not doing anything."
He led the way to the front door, his cognizance in complete bedazzlement. There was no need to apologize for the hinges that cried for lubrication but say something, he did, though she did not appear to respond. He may have mumbled his words.
"And please forgive the disarrayed condition of the house."
He invited her to sit where she wished and trying to keep his nervous hands steady he fixed the coffee.
It helped that Minnie took upon herself most of the speaking chores; about the gorgeous day, the coming of spring, her threats to finally quit the diner, if only she could find something else, something better. The tips were good but the manager was an asshole.

A couple times she paused her speech because she sensed he paid no attention, but his eyes were definitely riveted upon her; lower than her face.
"So we?re going" Tomorrow? I'll come pick you up."
"Sure. Why not," he nodded absently.
She stood up, obliging herself to take her coffee cup to his sink which embarrassed him because he?d not washed the dishes since he ran out of eggs.
When she set the cup on the counter next to the sink and turned to go Arthur stood up and took her by her wrist, pulled her close to him.
Minnie was far too surprised and Arthur took her too quick for her to utter anything. He suddenly had his arm around her and forced his tongue between her lips.
Her eyes gaped, and as pure reflex she lifted her hand and weakly struck his face but he easily took hold of that hand and trapped it with the other that he held behind her back.
He pushed her against the counter and he pulled her blouse out of her pants, and shot his hand under so he made contact with her flesh and when he did that his cock nearly broke open the front of his jeans.
Arthur pulled his tongue out of her mouth just to go in again, and there was no way to discern if the utterance she interrupted was protest or delight. Her body twisted and bucked against him in the same indefinable way.

His hand squeezed between her soft lower belly and the front of her jeans. The pressure forced the top button free. His fingers quickly cut through her matting and reached her slit where his middle finger slipped into and that slickness made him moan into her mouth and his touch lifted a whine from her.
Arthur pulled his hand out of her slippery sex, shoved her pants down and he pulled his jeans open. He kicked them off while he took Minnie and pulled her to the floor, his tongue always buried between her lips, sucking her breath for his life.
His hand protected the back of her head when her body hit the floor. He pressed against her with all his weight and he dug into her panty waistband that slipped easily into his grip and he pulled them away as Minnie's body tried to thrash and squirm. There was no intention of ripping or not ripping her panties because all he wanted was for them to be out of his way.
The panties went as far as Minnie's knees and they were stretched tight, but Arthur pushed her legs wide apart and the panties snapped when he rammed himself inside her with one manic thrust.
Arthur now pulled his tongue from her lips and replaced it with a hand over her mouth.
He concentrated on the raw feeling. He savagely pumped his cock in and out of Minnie's cunt. His lips hung open just above her face. Her wet sex told him that she could not protest but her face expressed genuine dismay. She tried to hold his shoulders, the back of his head. Arthur took both of her hands in one of his and pinned them against the floor, holding her wrists over her head, his other hand still clamped over her mouth.
Nearly three years had passed since Arthur had felt sexual union with flesh other than his hand, but he masturbated somewhat frequently, so although his first contact with her wet tight sex almost made him cum, and his first thrusts were blind, he stopped while still inside her. He let himself pulse against her tight wall, his body almost upright towering over her. Once he was familiar with this old but almost new feeling, he pulled out slowly. The hug of Minnie?s tight cunt infused him with a fresh dose of life.
Minnie?s cunt responded by sending a yelp out of her throat that nearly pushed his hand from her when he plunged his cock back into her, the sloshing suction so obscene and so encouraging; it melded with Minnie?s groans and Arthur's breathless grunts.
Each time Arthur entered back into Minnie, their unionized bodies slid across the tiled floor. Presently, Arthur saw they had slid near to the carpeting of the living room. A thin trail of Minnie's juices showed where Arthur?s attack began, and the direction he drove her.
Their bodies continued to thrash against the floor.
Arthur slowed his pace but increased his force, jamming himself into her. He buried his cock to the hilt and he ground against her and he withdrew quickly then jammed it into her again. Minnie's eyes were shut and a muffled guttural groan popped from her throat each time Arthur reentered her.
For a fleeting second Arthur's conscious window received the thought, "this is how love should be" but the unleashed barbarian was returned quickly to his work when her hands attempted to pull away. He held her all the firmer against the floor. Throwing away any necessity for rhythm he drove himself all the harder and faster.
All that mattered to Arthur was that he pour himself into this pussy. Minnie was close to her cum which was all the better.
Their shirted but bare-bottomed bodies slid over the until the hands he held down touched the edge of the living room carpeting.
He released her hands and they reached up and clung to his neck and her body answered each of his thrusts with one of her own.
He gripped the back of her head, bunched her hair in his fist and his whole body tensed so that his entire universe encompassed his approaching cum. His other hand ran up and down her body and ended up at her bottom that he squeezed like a treasure that mustn't escape.
The final thrusts were upon him and he felt her body twist against him; the long whooping cries that gathered behind her lips finally escaped and she wailed into the otherwise quiet house as the cum hit her and he pounded into her his final thrusts, finally letting his gasps out like air escaping from an overfilled balloon, and his groin pumped against her with each release.
Arthur was not a man given to the easy and open expression of his emotions towards other people but just now he let himself whimper like a baby. It surprised even him the load of cum he poured into her and by the last spill both his hands had her hips, fingers dug into her bottom and her body was practically still, though it reacted with a twitch when he stabbed his cock into her one last time.
Her body lay peacefully defeated but her hands ran along her belly and up to her breasts and she expressed a calm contentment on her face - a small smile.
While his body heaved, and his cock softened, falling out of her, his eyes glanced downward but looking at nothing particular, she opened her eyes, and sat up. She wrapped herself around him and he responded with his own hug, their heads buried against the others shoulder.
Without another word he stood up, taking her hand with him.
She looked at the two pairs of jeans huddled together on the floor and four shoes left in their miscellaneous placements.
"I should," but she realized that Arthur was in no mood for rational reasoning. It was almost like he'd transformed into a person impossible to recognize. She put up no more fabrication of defense and followed the lead of his hand.
Then she was standing, still in a daze, next to his bed. He?d thrown off his shirt and now he quickly took off her blouse. He all but pushed her onto his bed and crawled back over her. She saw he was already hard again and she again felt his lips against hers. His tongue bored in between her lips again. His hands squeezed her breasts, his hard cock pressed lengthwise against her.
His kisses moved lower.
He licked and sucked her breasts, her hand on the back of his head.

Meanwhile, in another place in the same time zone but in a warmer climate...


The top button freed, Stacy's trembling fingers pulled down the zipper of her blue jeans. When they fell open her dewy lips sent forth their tantalizing perfume. They throbbed against the sheer fabric of her pink panties, soaked now and as they had been for the last excruciating hour.
The open door to her private bath, where hot water poured into her tub, allowed the fragrance of lavender to meander and it found Stacy. The aroma filled her head. The secondary effects trickled like warm brandy into her belly.
Leaving the top of her jeans open around her waist, she reached her trembling fingers up to her nipples that demanded more touch. She rubbed her warm hand over them. She let one of her hands play with her breasts, barely rolling the tightening buttons between her fingers.
She sent her other hand down her downy belly, as the lavender fragrance continued to fill the space, and she gladly allowed it to further conquer her.
She finally took away the touch from her tiny straining buds as she returned to her jeans. She pushed them down and the steamy air wrapped possessively around her bare legs. She laid back on her bed and she drew her legs up so that her feet pressed flat against the bedspread. She spread her legs apart as far as they could go, bringing her bare feet together. Her toes absently fondled and danced together.
She ran her hands along her sensitive inner thighs, almost meeting at her pink junction, but stopping just on the edges of the crotch. There was no need to touch the middle because even these edges were already soaked, as though she'd emerged from a swim twenty minutes ago. The pussy beneath the flimsy fabric ached for a touch, sensed the hands it knew so well by now. With an aching throaty giggle she let it reach for that touch. She made it move up, and try to glance to the left and the right. But she kept her touch away, letting her juices pour all the more. It was among the top most sensual feelings for her and she did not ask why: the feel of her soaked panties against her private folds, and the way her head floated in the sweet honey of erotic agony when her clitoris throbbed, untouched.

To Be Continued...


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