Tag Archives: Education

REALITY: THE MOST TERRIFYING NIGHT OF MY LIFE

On August 3, 2000 one of my friends from high asked me to ride along with him to meet a girl who he found online. I’m always up for an adventure, so I agreed. I knew that it was quite a drive, about 10 hours, but I didn’t mind at all. We left in the evening and drove all night, got there in the morning, and left that evening. Neither one of us slept a wink. On the way back we were about 15 miles west of a small town when I was asleep. He was going well over the speed limit when he decided to pull over to switch driving. Right when we got onto the shoulder we went over the top of a small hill which was blocking sight to the road ahead. Right when we got over the top of the hill he saw a truck parked on the shoulder. He tried to get back on the interstate, but there was a semi there, so he instinctively jerked the wheel to get off of the road. We hit the end of the guardrail, that was when I woke up, took out 70 feet of it, and rolled onto the top. I looked at him and said “dude, that was f****** awesome,” we both laughed hysterically for a few minutes and unbuckled and fell on our heads. I found one shoe and the flashlight. I had to kick a window out to get out. I had no idea that the truck was there before us, so I started looking for the driver. When I looked into the driver’s window, I saw that the keys were still in the ignition. I knew that he was definitely somewhere around, so I kept looking. When I looked around the front of the truck I saw a blue rope that was tied around the tow hook and went over the top of a short wall. I assumed that he hit us and knocked something off of his truck and climbed down the rope to get it. When I looked over the wall, I got the shock of a lifetime. There was a dead body at the end of the rope, looking up at me. He looked like a demon. I’m not a person to freakout, but I definitely did. I jumped backwards into traffic. I almost got hit by a passing semi. He swerved around me, pulled over, jumped out, and asked me “what the f*** are you doing?” I was still in a panic and said “there’s a dead guy over there.” He said “f*** this, I’m out of here.” Then he jumped in his truck and left. We looked at each other and said, that sucks. He called 911 and told them that we needed help, then called his parents and told them where we were and that we needed help. Then I called my mom and said, mom were ok. Then the phone dropped the call and wouldn’t call back. We were really out in the middle of nowhere. We sat there for an hour and a half waiting for the cops when a security guard pulled up, got out, and very calmly asked if we were ok. I assumed that she knew what happened, so I said he’s over there and pointed to the front of the truck. She looked over the wall and had a bigger panic attack than I did. She ran back to her car, grabbed the radio, and yelled, “we need everyone out here now!” Fifteen minutes later when the first cop showed up he looked around and said “you guys are under arrest.” I was shocked and said “woah woah woah, wake up dumbass, if we would have killed him then why would his truck be upside down over there and these tire marks show that he intentionally jerked the truck off of the road to miss hitting that truck?” He thought for a second and said “huh, you make a good point, you guys are ok.” They flipped the truck back over and cut the guy down. Then he asked if we were ready to go. I said that we had to stay there because he told his parents that we were going to be there waiting for them. He said “ok, have it your way.” Then everyone left. I had nightmares about it for years.

Storystar, where short story writers are the stars!
https://www.storystar.com/story/12389/brandon/true-life/survival-success-2
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Analysis on Matiiku by Chiedozie Ude. GBAMLOG.COM

Ude, Chiedozie Orji.
Department of English, UNILAG

Analysis on Matiiku

It is no news that trying to analyse a live performance is a tricky job. This trickiness may be as a result of different factors such as place and time— or more impressive, the complex nature of literature. Notwithstanding this difficulty, this paper will make an attempt to critically analyse the stage play entitled Matiiku. This essay will succinctly summarise the play and its subject matter, making use of factors such as the stage management and the gestures (which some may refer to as body language) of the actors to defend the choice of subject matter. The attention that will be paid to the factors stated above stems from the technical nature of the dialogue — that is, it was, to a very large extent, exclusively performed in the Yoruba language. However, the focus on the gestures and stage management does not in any way downplay the usefulness of the dialogue in this analysis because its importance in making the play fit its setting, and also, its subject matter cannot be overlooked. Also, it is important to note that this essay will include foreign references — that is, events or even books outside the narrative — which will be used support the arguments expressed in this paper. All these will be combined to comprehensively analyse this play.

This segment of the essay will comment on the playwright and the setting of the play. Not much is known about the playwright; hence, we move on to the setting of the play. The play is set during the colonial era, and this is reinforced through the manner in which the stage was set, and the numerous festivities which took place — the market scene; the baby/ritual scene; and the court dispute between the colonial district officer and the people. The latter is unarguably the strongest supporter of the claim that the play is set during the colonial era because it not only captures the communication problems that plagued the colonial masters due to their inability to grasp the local languages employed by their subjects, but also captures the presence of the white man (The district officer); hence, justifying the time setting— that is, the colonial period. The place setting of the play is Lagos. The introduction of three characters at the beginning of the play who represent the three white-cap chiefs of Lagos is testament to this fact. They, unequivocally, strengthen the play’s genre — that is, a historical play.

The subject matter of the play revolves around a man, who was predestined to be king, right from birth. This information was exposed by the narrator, before the start of the play. Hence, one can say that the plot of the play is based on the child, whom the oracle chooses as king. As expected, he becomes the king of Lagos once he attains adulthood; although, the colonial government later wrestled power from him. It is important to state that the fulfillment of the prophecy on the life of the king is a common motif in Yoruba themed plays— that is, the oracle can never be wrong— such as Ola Rotimi’s The Gods are Not to Blame, where the pronouncements of the oracle on the main character comes to pass. Therefore, one can be justified to state that there is a theme of fate (inevitable destiny) in the play. Another thing that is worthwhile to discuss is how the scenes in the play are linked by an interlude of music and dance. These performances (music and dance) may be regarded as entertaining because of the choreographic dance steps employed by the dancers. Being a traditional play, these songs should have deeper meanings, but that is not the focus of this essay. So, this analysis will rate the musical interlude from the standpoint of pleasure and entertainment.

One may describe the stage management as almost impeccable due to the perfect way the stage was set to represent the setting, and also, their flawless deployment of the lighting technique. To me, it is this lighting technique that makes the play stand out. The lights came up when and where necessary, not a second too early or late. Unarguably, the lighting technique was most effective when it was employed to show time — that is, day and night. This topnotch use of this technique is also brought to the fore when the lights were dimmed during the ritual scene. The solemnity and sacredness of the rituals were well captured by the eerily spooky umbrella of semi-darkness. This was enough to make the watcher understand the importance of these rituals. Another important thing I noticed due to the arrangement of the stage is the market scene. The market scene is crucial in traditional plays. The market is known as a place where rumours and stories thrive. Little wonder the birth of the would be king is announced in the market setting. The market scene is also ideal for announcement of the king’s birth because it reinforces Soyinka’s principle in Death and the King’s Horseman of the market place being a strategic location for the meeting of the three realities in Yoruba mythology — that is, the world of the unborn; the world of the living; and the world of the dead. It is important to note that the market place also serves as a link between these realities. Hence, this well believed myth strengthens the writer’s use of the market scene to announce a transition — that is, from the world of the unborn to the world of the living. The stage management was described as almost impeccable at the beginning of the paragraph because it had slight flaws. One of such flaws is the bad sound systems used in the play. Aside this, one can be justified to give the stage management crew an excellent score for a job well done.

Also, the gestures of the actors also enable non speakers of the Yoruba language to have an insight on some of the happenings in the play. The slow pace, with which those who are to make prophecies on the child move, gives insight to the audience that these men must be truly special and of high importance in the society. The greatness which is proclaimed on the baby is evident when the priests and other spectators bow to the child. However, the child’s mother refuses to bow to her child; hence, bringing into play the African belief that expects a child to prostrate himself to his parents, and not the other way round.

In conclusion, if I were asked to give my personal opinion on the play, I would rate it as a largely successful performance. The topnotch techniques employed by the stage management crew played a huge role in this. As a member of the audience who could not fully grasp the dialogues, I was entertained by the dance interlude. Hence, I can boldly describe the play as a successful one. In conclusion, this essay has made an attempt to analyse the production of the play Matiiku.

Works cited:
Ola Rotimi’s The Gods are Not to Blame.
Wole Soyinka’s Death and the King’s Horseman.

Horror Classics : HOW TO GET BACK TO THE FOREST 

How to Get Back to the Forest

“You have to puke it up,” said Cee. “You have to get down there and puke it up. I mean down past where you can feel it, you know?”

She gestured earnestly at her chest. She had this old-fashioned cotton nightgown on, lace collar brilliant under the bathroom lights. Above the collar, her skin looked gray. Cee had bones like a bird. She was so beautiful. She was completely beautiful and fucked. I mean everybody at camp was sort of a mess, we were even supposed to be that way, at a difficult stage, but Cee took it to another level. Herding us into the bathroom at night and asking us to puke. “It’s right here,” she said, tapping the nightgown over her hollow chest. “Where you’ve got less nerves in your esophagus. It’s like wired into the side, into the muscle. You have to puke really hard to get it.”

“Did you ever get it out?” asked Max. She was sitting on one of the sinks. She’d believe anything.

Cee nodded, solemn as a counselor. “Two years ago. They caught me and gave me a new one. But it was beautiful while it was gone. I’m telling you it was the best.”

“Like how?” I said.

Cee stretched out her arms. “Like bliss. Like everything. Everything all at once. You’re raw, just a big raw nerve.”

“That doesn’t sound so great,” said Elle.

“I know,” said Cee, not annoyed but really agreeing, turning things around. That was one of her talents.

“It sounds stupid,” she nodded, “but that’s because it’s something we can’t imagine. We don’t have the tools. Our bodies don’t know how to calculate what we’re missing. You can’t know till you get there. And at the same time, it’s where you came from. It’s where you started.

She raised her toothbrush. “So. Who’s with me?”

• • •

Definitely not me. God, Cee. You were such an idiot.

• • •

Apparently, a girl named Puss had told her about the bug. And Cee, being Cee, was totally open to learning new things from a person who called herself Puss. Puss had puked out her own bug and was living on the streets. I guess she’d run away from camp, I don’t really know. She was six feet tall, Cee said, with long red hair. The hair was dyed, which was weird, because if you’re living on the streets, do you care about stuff like that? This kind of thing can keep me awake at night. I lie in bed, or rather I sit in the living room because Pete hates me tossing and turning, and I leave the room dark and open all the curtains, and I watch the lights of the city and think about this girl Puss getting red hair dye at the grocery store and doing her hair in the bathroom at the train station. Did she put newspapers down? And what if somebody came in and saw her?

Anyway, eventually Cee met Puss in the park, and Puss was clearly down-and-out and a hooker, but she looked cool and friendly, and Cee sat down beside her on the swings.

• • •

“You have to puke it up.”

• • •

We’d only been at camp for about six weeks. It seemed like a long time, long enough to know everybody. Everything felt stretched out at camp, the days and the nights, and yet in the end it was over so fast, as soon as you could blink. Camp was on its own calendar—a special time of life.That was Jodi’s phrase. She was our favorite counselor. She was greasy and enthusiastic, with a skinny little ponytail, only a year or two older than the seniors.Camp is so special! The thing with Jodi was, she believed every word she said. It made it really hard to make fun of her. That night, the night in the bathroom, she was asleep down the hall underneath her Mother Figure, which was a little stuffed dog withFlorida on its chest.

• • •

“Come on!” said Cee. And she stuck her toothbrush down her throat, just like that. I think Max screamed. Cee didn’t start puking right away. She had to give herself a few really good shoves with that toothbrush, while people said “Oh my God” and backed away and clutched one another and stared. Somebody said “Are you nuts?” Somebody else said something else, I might have said something, I don’t know, everything was so white and bright in that moment, mirrors and fluorescent lights and Cee in that goddamn Victorian nightgown jabbing away with her toothbrush and sort of gagging. Every time I looked up I could see all of us in the mirror. And then it came. A splatter of puke all over the sink. Cee leaned over and braced herself. Blam. Elle said, “Oh my God, that is disgusting.” Cee gasped. She was just getting started.

• • •

Elle was next. All of a sudden she spun around with her hands over her mouth and let go in the sink right next to Cee. Splat. I started laughing, but I already felt sort of dizzy and sick myself, and also scared, because I didn’t want to throw up. Cee looked up from her own sink and nodded at Elle, encouraging her. She looked completely bizarre, her wide cheekbones, her big crown of natural hair, sort of a retro supermodel with a glistening mouth, her eyes full of excitement. I think she even said “Good job, Elle!”

Then she went to it with the toothbrush again. “We have to stop her!” said Katie, taking charge. “Max, go get Jodi!” But Max didn’t make it. She jumped down from the third sink, but when she got halfway to the door she turned around and ran back to the sink and puked. Meanwhile Katie was dragging Cee away from the sink and trying to get the toothbrush, but also not wanting to touch it, and she kept going “Ew ew ew” and “Help me, you guys,” and it was all so hilarious I sank down on the floor, absolutely crying with laughter. Five or six other girls, too. We just sort of looked at each other and screamed. It was mayhem. Katie dragged Cee into one of the stalls, I don’t know why. Then Katie started groaning and let go of Cee and staggered into the stall beside her, and sploosh, there she went.

• • •

Bugs.

It’s such a camp rumor. Camp is full of stories like that. People say the ice cream makes you sterile, the bathrooms are full of hidden cameras, there’s fanged, flesh-eating kids in the lake, if you break into the office you can call your parents. Lots of kids break into the office. It’s the most common camp offense. I never tried it, because I’m not stupid—of course you can’t call your parents. How would you even get their number? And bugs—the idea of a bug planted under your skin, to track you or feed you drugs—that’s another dumb story.

Except it’s not, because I saw one.

The smell in the bathroom was terrible now—an animal smell, hot; it thrashed around and it had fur.

I knew I was going to be sick. I crawled to the closest place—the stall where Cee knelt—and grabbed hold of the toilet seat. Cee moved aside for me. Would you believe she was still hanging onto her toothbrush? I think we both threw up a couple of times. Then she made this awful sound, beyond anything, her whole body taut and straining, and something flew into the toilet with a splash.

I looked at her and there was blood all over her chin. I said, “Jesus, Cee.” I thought she was dying. She sat there coughing and shaking, her eyes full of tears and triumph. She was on top of the world. “Look!” she breathed. And I looked, and there in the bowl, half-hidden by puke and blood, lay an object made of metal.

It actually looked like a bug. Sharp blood-smeared legs.

“Shit!” I said. I flushed the toilet.

“Now you,” said Cee, wiping her mouth on the back of her wrist.

“I can’t.”

“Tisha. Come on.”

Cee, I couldn’t, I really couldn’t. I could be sick—in fact I felt sicker than ever—but I couldn’t do it that hard. I remember the look in your eyes; you were so disappointed. You leaned and spat some blood into the toilet.

I whispered: “Don’t tell anyone. Not even the other girls.”

“Why not? We should all—”

No. Just trust me.”

I was already scared, so scared. I couldn’t bear the idea of camp without you.

• • •

We barely slept that night. We had to take showers and clean the bathroom. Max cried the whole time, but for at least part of the night, I was laughing. Me and Katie flinging disinfectant powder everywhere. Katie was cool, always in sweatpants, didn’t give a shit about anything.

“You know your friend is a headcase, right?” she said.

It was the first time anybody’d called Cee my friend. We got out the mop and lathered up the floor. Everyone slipped and swore at us, coming out of the showers. Cee went skidding by in a towel. “Whee!” she shrieked.

• • •

You cannot feel your bug. I’ve pressed so hard on my chest. I know.

I could feel it,” said Cee. “After they put it back in.” It wasn’t exactly a physical thing. She couldn’t trace the shape of the bug inside her, but she could feel it working.

“Bug juice,” she said, making a sour face. She could feel bug juice seeping into her body. Every time she was going to be angry or afraid, there’d be this warmth in her chest, a feeling of calm spreading deep inside.

“I only noticed it after I’d had the bug out for a couple of weeks.”

“How did your parents know you needed a new one?”

“I didn’t need one.”

“How did they know it was gone?”

“Well, I kind of had this fit. I got mad at them and started throwing food.”

We were sitting on my bed, under my Mother Figure, a lamp with a blue shade. The blue light brought out the stains on Cee’s Victorian nightgown. We were both painting our toenails Cherry Pink, balancing the polish on my Life Skills textbook, taking turns with the brush.

“You should do it,” Cee said. “I feel better. I’m so much better.”

I thought how in a minute we’d have to study for our Life Skills quiz. I didn’t think there was bug juice in my body. I couldn’t feel anything.

“I’m so much better,” Cee said again. Her hand was shaking.

• • •

Oh, Cee.

• • •

The weird thing is, I started writing this after Max came to visit me, and I thought I was going to write about Max. But then I started writing in your book. Why? This book you left me, your Mother Figure. You practically threw it at me: “Take it!” It was the worst thing you could do, to take somebody else’s Parent Figure, especially the mom. Or maybe it was only us girls who cared so much about the moms. Maybe for the boys it was the dads. But anyway, taking one was the worst; you could basically expect the other kids to kill you. A kid got put in the hospital that way at a different camp—the one on the east side—but we all knew about it at our camp. They strung him up with electric wires. Whenever we told the story we ended by saying what we would have done to that kid, and it was always much worse.

But you threw this book at me, Cee, and what could I do? Jodi and Duncan were trying to grab your arms, and the ambulance was waiting for you downstairs. I caught the book clumsily, crumpling it. I looked at it later, and it was about half full of your writing. I think they’re poems.

dank smells underground want to get back

no pill for it

i need you

I don’t know, are they poems? If they are, I don’t think they’re very good. A nap could be a door an abandoned car. Does that even mean anything? Eat my teeth. I know them all by heart.

I picked up this book when Max left. I wrote: “You have to puke it up.” All of a sudden I was writing about you. Surprising myself. I just kept going. Remembering camp, the weird sort of humid excitement there, the cafeteria louder than the sea. The shops—remember the shops? Lulu’s was the best. We’d save up our allowance to go there. Down in the basement you could get used stuff for cheap. You got your leather jacket there. I got these red shoes with flowers on the toes. I loved those shoes so much! I wonder where they went? I wore them to every mixer, I was wearing them when I met Pete, probably with my white dress—another Lulu’s purchase I don’t have now.

It was summer, and the mixer had an island theme. The counselors had constructed this sort of deck overlooking the lake. God, they were so proud of it. They gave us green drinks with little umbrellas in them and played lazy, sighing music, and everyone danced, and Pete saw a shooting star, and we were holding hands, and you were gone forever and I forgot you.

• • •

I forgot you. Forgetting isn’t so wrong. It’s a Life Skill.

• • •

I don’t remember what my parents looked like. A Parent Figure cannot be a photograph. It has to be a more neutral object. It’s supposed to stand in for someone, but not too much. When we got to camp we were all supposed to bring our Parent Figures to dinner the first night. Everyone squeezed in at the cafeteria tables, trying to find space beside their dinner trays for their Figures, those calendars and catcher’s mitts and scarves. I felt so stupid because my Mother Figure was a lamp and there was no place to plug it in. My Father Figure is a plaque that saysAlways be yourself.

Jodi came by, as the counselors were all going around “meeting the Parents,” and she said, “Wow, Tisha, that’s a good one.”

• • •

I don’t even know if I picked it out.

• • •

“We want you to have a fabulous time at camp!” Jodi cried. She was standing at the front with the other counselors: Paige and Veronica and Duncan—who we’d later call “Hunky Duncan”—and Eric and Carla and the others.

Of course they’d chosen Jodi to speak. Jodi was so perky.

She told us that we were beginning a special relationship with our Parent Figures. It was very important not to fixate.We shouldn’t fixate on the Parent Figures, and we definitely shouldn’t fixate on the counselors.

My stupid lamp. It was so fucking blue. Why would you bring something blue? “The most important people in your life are the other campers!” Jodi burbled. “These are the people you’ll know for the rest of your life! Now, I want you to turn to the person next to you and say, Hi, Neighbor!

• • •

Hi, Neighbor! And later, in the forest, Cee sang to the sky: Fuck you, Neighbor!

• • •

Camp was special. We were told that it was special. At camp you connected with people and with nature. There was no personal tech. That freaked a lot of people out at first. We were told that later we’d all be able to get online again, but we’d be adults, and our relationships would be in place, and we would have learned our Life Skills, and we’d be ready. But now was special: Now was the time of friends and of the earth.

Cee raised her hand: “What about earthquakes?”

“What?” said Veronica, who taught The Natural World. Veronica was from an older group of counselors; she had gray hair and leathery skin from taking kids on nature hikes and she was always stretching to show that you could be flexible when you were old.

“What about earthquakes?” Cee asked. “What about fires? Those are natural. What about hurricanes?”

Veronica smiled at us with her awesome white teeth, because you could have awesome white teeth when you were old, it was all a matter of taking care of yourself with the right Life Skills.

“What an interesting question, Celia!”

We were told that all of our questions were interesting. There’s no such thing as a stupid question! The important thing was always toparticipate. We were told to participate in classes and hikes and shopping sprees and mixers. In History we learned that there used to be prejudice, but now there wasn’t: It didn’t matter where you came from or who you loved, just join in! That’s why even the queer girls had to go to the mixers; you could take your girlfriend, but you had to go. Katie used to go in a tie and Elle would wear flowers. They rolled their eyes but they went anyway and danced and it was fun. Camp was so fun.

Cee raised her hand: “Why is it a compliment to tell somebody it doesn’t matter who they are?”

We were told to find a hobby. There were a million choices and we tried them all: sports and crafts and art and music. There was so much to do. Every day there was some kind of program and then there were chores and then we had to study for class. No wonder we forgot stuff. We were told that forgetting was natural. Forgetting helped us survive, Jodi told us in Life Skills class, tears in her eyes. She cried as easily as Max. She was more like a kid sister than a counselor. Everybody wanted Jodi to be okay. “You’ll always be reminded,” she said in her hoarse, heroic voice. “You’ll always have your Parent Figures. It’s okay to be sad! But remember, you have each other now. It’s the most special bond in the world.”

Cee raised her hand: “What if we don’t want us?”

Cee raised her hand, but of course she raised her hand. She was Cee. She was Cee, she’d always been Cee, do you see what I mean? I mean she was like that right from the day we arrived; she was brash, messy Cee before the night in the bathroom, before she supposedly puked out her bug. I couldn’t see any difference. I could not see any difference. So of course I had second thoughts. I wished so bad I hadn’t flushed the toilet. What if there wasn’t anything in it? What if somebody’d dropped a piece of jewelry in there, some necklace or brooch and I thought it was a bug? That could have happened. Camp was so fun. Shaving my legs for the mixer. Wearing red shoes. We were all so lucky. Camp was the best thing ever. Every Child at Camp! That was the government slogan: ECAC. Cee used to make this gag face whenever she said it.ECAC. Ick. Sick.

• • •

She took me into the forest. It was a mixer. Everybody else was crowded around the picnic tables. The lake was flat and scummy and the sun was just going down, clouds of biting insects golden in the haze.

“Come on,” Cee said, “let’s get out of here.”

We walked over the sodden sand into the weeds. A couple of the counselors watched us go: I saw Hunky Duncan look at us with his binoculars, but because we were just two girls they didn’t care. It only mattered if you left the mixer with a boy. Then you had to stop at the Self-Care Stand for condoms and an injection, because becoming a parent is a serious decision! Duncan lowered his binoculars, and we stepped across the rocks and into the trees.

“This is cool!” Cee whispered.

I didn’t really think it was cool—it was weird and sticky in there, and sort of dark, and the weeds kept tickling my legs—but I went farther because of Cee. It’s hard to explain this thing she had: She was like an event just about to happen and you didn’t want to miss it. I didn’t want to, anyway. It was so dark we had to hold hands after a while. Cee walked in front of me, pushing branches out of the way, making loud crackling sounds, sometimes kicking to break through the bushes. Her laugh sounded close, like we were trapped in the basement at Lulu’s. That’s what it was like, like being trapped in this amazing place where everything was magically half-price. I was so excited and then horrified because suddenly I had to take a dump, there was no way I could hold it in.

“Wait a sec,” I told Cee, too embarrassed to even tell her to go away. I crouched down and went and wiped myself on the leaves, and I’m sure Cee knew what was up but she took my hand again right after I was done. She took my disgusting hand. I felt like I wanted to die, and at the same time, I was floating. We kept going until we stumbled into a clearing in the woods. Stars above us in a perfect circle.

Woo-hooooo!” Cee hollered. “Fuck you, Neighbor!”

She gave the stars the finger. The silhouette of her hand stood out against the bright. I gave the stars the finger, too. I was this shitty, disgusting kid with a lamp and a plaque for parents but I was there with Cee and the time was exactly now. It was like there was a beautiful starry place we’d never get into— didn’t deserve to get into—but at the same time we were better than any brightness. Two sick girls underneath the stars.

Fuck you, Neighbor! It felt so great. If I could go anywhere I’d want to go there.

• • •

The counselors came for us after a while. A circle of them with big flashlights, talking in handsets. Jodi told us they’d been looking everywhere for us. “We were pretty worried about you girls!”

For the first time I didn’t feel sorry for her; I felt like I wanted to kick her in the shins. Shit, I forgot about that until right now. I forget so much. I’m like a sieve. Sometimes I tell Pete I think I’m going senile. Like premature senile dementia. Last month I suggested we go to Clearview for our next vacation and he said, “Tish, you hate Clearview, don’t you remember?”

It’s true, I hated Clearview: The beach was okay, but at night there was nothing to do but drink. So we’re going to go to the Palace Suites instead. At least you can gamble there.

Cee, I wonder about you still, so much—I wonder what happened to you and where you are. I wonder if you’ve ever tried to find me. It wouldn’t be hard. If you linked to the register you’d know our graduating class ended up in Food Services. I’m in charge of inventory for a chain of grocery stores, Pete drives delivery, Katie stocks the shelves. The year before us, the graduates of our camp went into the army; the year after us they also went into the army; the year after that they went into communications technologies; the year after that I stopped paying attention. I stopped wondering what life would have been like if I’d graduated in a different year. We’re okay. Me and Pete—we make it work, you know? He’s sad because I don’t want to have kids, but he hasn’t brought it up for a couple of years. We do the usual stuff, hobbies and vacations. Work. Pete’s into gardening. Once a week we have dinner with some of the gang. We keep our Parent Figures on the hall table, like everyone else. Sometimes I think about how if you’d graduated with us, you’d be doing some kind of job in Food Services too. That’s weird, right?

• • •

But you didn’t graduate with us. I guess you never graduated at all.

• • •

I’ve looked for you on the buses and in the streets. Wondering if I’d suddenly see you. God, I’d jump off the bus so quick, I wouldn’t even wait for it to stop moving. I wouldn’t care if I fell in the gutter. I remember your tense face, your nervous look, when you found out that we were going to have a check-up.

“I can’t have a check-up,” you said.

“Why not?” I asked.

“Because,” you said, “because they’ll see my bug is gone.”

And I just—I don’t know. I felt sort of embarrassed for you. I’d convinced myself the whole bug thing was a mistake, a hallucination. I looked down at my book, and when I looked up you were standing in the same place, with an alert look on your face, as if you were listening.

You looked at me and said: “I have to run.”

It was the stupidest thing I’d ever heard. The whole camp was monitored practically up to the moon. There was no way to get outside.

But you tried. You left my room, and you went straight out your window and broke your ankle.

A week later, you were back. You were on crutches and you looked . . . wrecked. Destroyed. Somebody’d cut your hair, shaved it close to the scalp. Your eyes stood out, huge and shining.

“They put in a bug in me,” you whispered.

And I just knew. I knew what you were going to do.

• • •

Max came to see me a few days ago. I’ve felt sick ever since. Max is the same, hunched and timid; you’d know her if you saw her. She sat in my living room and I gave her coffee and lemon cookies and she took one bite of a cookie and started crying.

Cee, we miss you, we really do.

Max told me she’s pregnant. I said congratulations. I knew she and Evan have been wanting one for a while. She covered her eyes with her hands—she still bites her nails, one of them was bleeding—and she just cried.

“Hey, Max,” I said, “it’s okay.”

I figured she was extra-emotional from hormones or whatever, or maybe she was thinking what a short time she’d have with her kid, now that kids start camp at eight years old.

“It’s okay,” I told her, even though I’d never have kids—I couldn’t stand it.

They say it’s easier on the kids, going to camp earlier. We—me and you and Max—we were the tail end of Generation Teen. Max’s kid will belong to Generation Eight. It’s supposed to be a happier generation, but I’m guessing it will be sort of like us. Like us, the kids of Generation Eight will be told they’re sad, that they need their parents and that’s why they have Parent Figures, so that they can always be reminded of what they’ve lost, so that they can remember they need what they have now.

I sat across the coffee table from Max, and she was crying and I wasn’t hugging her because I don’t really hug people anymore, not even Pete really, I’m sort of mean that way, it’s just how I turned out, and Max said “Do you remember that night in the bathroom with Cee?”

Do I remember?

Her eyes were all swollen. She hiccupped. “I can’t stop thinking about it. I’m scared.” She said she had to send a report to her doctor every day on her phone. How was she feeling, had she vomited? Her morning sickness wasn’t too bad, but she’d thrown up twice, and both times she had to go in for a check-up.

“So?” I said.

“So—they always put you to sleep, you know . . .”

“Yeah.”

I just said “Yeah.” Just sat there in front of her and said “Yeah.” Like I was a rock. After a while I could tell she was feeling uncertain, and then she felt stupid. She picked up her stuff and blew her nose and went home. She left the tissues on the table, one of them spotted with blood from her bitten nail. I haven’t really been sleeping since she left. I mean, I’ve always had trouble sleeping, but now it’s a lot worse, especially since I started writing in your book. I just feel sick, Cee, I feel really sick. All those check-ups, so regular, everyone gets them, but you’re definitely supposed to go in if you’re feeling nauseous, if you’ve vomited, it might be a superflu! The world is full of viruses, good health is everybody’s business! And yeah, they put you to sleep every time. Yeah. “They put a bug in me,” you said. Camp was so fun. Jodi came to us, wringing her hands. “Cee has been having some problems, and it’s up to all of us to look after her, girls!Campers stick together!” But we didn’t stick together, did we? I woke up and you were shouting in the hall, and I ran out there and you were hopping on your good foot, your toothbrush in one hand, your Mother Figure notebook in the other, and I knew exactly what they’d caught you doing. How did they catch you? Were there really cameras in the bathroom? Jodi’d called Duncan, and that was how I knew how bad it was: Hunky Duncan in the girls’ hallway, just outside the bathroom, wearing white shorts and a seriously pissed-off expression. He and Jodi were grabbing you and you were fighting them off. “Tisha,” called Jodi, “it’s okay, Cee’s just sick, she’s going to the hospital.” You threw the notebook. “Take it!” you snarled. Those were your last words. Your last words to me. I never saw you again except in dreams. Yeah, I see you in dreams. I see you in your white lacy nightgown. Cee, I feel sick. At night I feel so sick, I walk around in circles. There’s waves of sickness and waves of something else, something that calms me, something that’s trying to make the sickness go away. Up and down it goes, and I’m just in it, just trying to stand it, and then I sleep again, and I dream you’re beside me, we’re leaning over the toilet, and down at the very bottom there’s something like a clump of trees and two tiny girls are standing there giving us the finger. It’s not where I came from, but it’s where I started. I think of how bright it was in the bathroom that night, how some kind of loss swept through all of us, electric, and you’d started it, you’d started it by yourself, and we were with you in that hilarious and total rage of loss. Let’s lose it. Let’s lose everything. Camp wasn’t fun. Camp was a fucking factory. I go out to the factory on Fridays to check my lists over coffee with Elle. The bus passes shattered buildings, stick people rooting around in the garbage. Three out of five graduating classes join the army. Give me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change! How did I even get here? I’d ask my mom if she wasn’t a fucking lamp. Cee, I feel sick. I should just grab my keys, get some money, and run to Max’s house, we should both be sick, everybody should lose it together. I shouldn’t have told you not to tell the others. We all should have gone together. My fault. I dream I find you and Puss in a bathroom in the train station. There’s blood everywhere, and you laugh and tell me it’s hair dye. Cee, it’s so bright it makes me sick. I have to go now. It’s got to come out.

How to Get Back to the Forest – Lightspeed Magazine
http://www.lightspeedmagazine.com/fiction/how-to-get-back-to-the-forest/

A STORY OF LOVE DESTINED TO BE: MIRACLE BY CHANCE

Miracle by Chance

by Jeannette Gardner
(Canada)

Our Wedding Day

Our Wedding Day

©Copyright – by Jeannette Gardner (December, 2007)

A Story of Love Destined to Be!

This is a ‘true story’ about how I met my boyfriend (now husband) on a dating site on the Internet. It’s the unbelievable story behind it that’s truly amazing of fate and destiny!

I used to hang out at a country bar called the Club Palomino. I loved listening to good bands there, and dancing to their country rock music. I used to drag my friend out to see my favourite band playing called Cheyenne, who were amazing and always packed the place. My friend and I used to get up and dance to their songs. I was interested in the rhythm guitar player in the band, to me, he was the best looking one, and I loved his voice along with his rhythm guitar sound. Yes, I had the ‘hots’ for him and would goggle eye him playing his guitar/singing while I was on the dance floor, or just standing at the bar listening and staring. I’ve always had this thing for bands as I play guitar too, and always wanted to play in a band. They played there for a long time and were the best band at the Club Palomino. I would go there as much as I could just to hear them play, and of course, always watching my favourite player. The sad part about it was I used to see him with a blonde girl, not knowing if she was his girlfriend or wife.

After seeing them playing there for a long time, the Club Palomino closed down. Yes, the club had been sold. Wouldn’t you know it, a huge townhouse sub-division was put up and the club was gone. So were all the bands and my favourite band, Cheyenne.

When I first found out about the club closing down, I wanted to approach Cheyenne; particularly the rhythm guitar player and ask where they would be playing in the future. But I didn’t have enough courage to do that. I guess things happen for a reason.

15 YEARS LATER……

As time went on I met someone and got married. That was a mistake. Eventually we got a divorce. I started going out to bars, again, got tired of it and not meeting anyone decent enough. I wasn’t crazy about the bands playing at other bars either. Later, a friend told me to join a particular dating site on the Internet, which I thought I would never do. But, I thought I would check it out for fun as I heard so much about it through people even meeting their soul mates from that site. Surprisingly enough, I had a few dates, meeting in public places, but just didn’t find the right one and thought I never would from a dating site. I sort of gave up on it until one night after getting home from a bar, which I hated, I went on my computer. For some reason I logged in that site again which I was really glad I did. I got an interesting email from a guy and liked his picture. I was also touched by his email and that he was also interested in my picture and profile.

From then on we started emailing each other quite a lot from that site. We seemed to have so much in common through our emails. We continued writing and eventually got on MSN, and chatted for quite some time. He was Bulgarian and I was Hungarian, how common was that! We discovered from our MSN chats that we had so much in common. It was really amazing. Our families even lived in the same town of all places. We chatted every night as often as we could.

And then, a miracle happened! We started chatting on our computers about music. Wow! We also liked all the same music and we both wrote songs. I told

him I liked country music and used to frequent a particular bar about 15 years ago, which had closed down. Of course he asked me the name of the bar back then. I told him the Club Palomino. He was really surprised and told me he used to play there. I wasn’t sure whether to believe him or not! He said he would send me a picture of his band that played there. I thought, ‘yeah right’ to myself as I waited patiently in front of my computer for the picture. Lo and behold, a huge picture came up on my screen: CHEYENNE, CLUB PALOMINO. I freaked! I couldn’t believe it! It was him in the picture with Cheyenne. The guy I was interested in who was the rhythm guitar player in my favourite band. I was so shocked that I went crazy seeing this picture! It was just unbelievable! Like a miracle happened suddenly! Like a fairy tale! We carried on chatting every moment we had for some time, and eventually he gave me his phone number. We started talking on the phone every night. It was just amazing all the things we had in common about everything! Yes, it was too good to be true!

After about three weeks of talking on the phone every night, chatting on the computer and exchanging pictures, we decided to meet. I was brave enough for him to pick me up at my mother’s place as I developed this trust in him, by his voice and his honesty. I met him downstairs in front of my mother’s apartment building. He got out of his car, and the first thing we did was look at each other and started laughing and laughing like crazy, and couldn’t stop laughing! He took me to the local Canadian Legion where we talked, had a drink together (still laughing) and we got more acquainted. Eventually we went into another room and sat down at a table. After a while, he asked me if I didn’t mind if he got up on stage to do a solo. Hey, a man singing with his guitar was like being in heaven. He got up on stage and started playing his guitar and singing in front of an audience. That did it for me. I was hooked! And the guy I admired 15 years ago was performing in front of my eyes, and, was my date! I was in heaven!

We dated for about two years and it was absolutely wonderful. Eventually we bought a condo. Then, the final surprise! After moving into our condo, we looked out the window and to our astonishment what did we see? The office building of the dating site we joined, of all things! What a coincidence that was! We have been together since 2003, playing music, and still laughing! We are just two peas in a pod!

He met my friend who I was with at the Club Palomino 15 years ago, and he also remembered seeing us dancing while his band Cheyenne played. He also remembered me standing at the bar at times. I used to watch him go to the bar for his coffee and I know our eyes met each other’s at that time. It sure is strange crossing one another’s paths some 15 years ago—and now, being together in a different time in the future, and remembering!

And by the way, that blonde girl he was with at the Club Palomino, was the girl he eventually married which lasted eight years. He went through a brutal divorce. He did tell me that when I first saw him at the Club Palomino 15 years ago, that I should have approached him and told him she was ‘bad news’. It’s funny how life is, it just wasn’t meant to be back then.

Fate brought us together. We met our ‘soul mates’! We got married on Nov. 21, 2009.

+18 ROMANCE : THE SIGHT OF HER LEGS | GBAMLOG 

The Sight of Her Legs

by IsaacTolkien

Copyright© 2019 by IsaacTolkien

He saw the brown-haired girl sitting at the front. She was the only girl in the room wearing shorts, and her legs were perfect. Her skin appeared so soft and smooth that he found himself unable to tear his eyes away from the long shining limbs of perfection. She had on a blue sweater above it, a sweater with a gold zipper drawing a beeline to her bright red lips. He wondered what it would be like to kiss those bright red lips, gaze into those shining blue eyes, stroke those legs, caress that delightfully slim waist.

She was the last in the circle of food bank volunteers, and it was her turn to introduce herself at the orientation meeting. “My name is Jen,” she said in a sweet, sincere voice, “and I’m a senior at Connolly High. I’m here ‘cause I want to help those less well off than me. Also my school has a community service requirement to graduate…”. He didn’t pay as much attention to her actual words, listening more to the sound of her voice, quivering with the nervousness that comes from addressing a group of two dozen strangers, but it charmed him with its cuteness. She was such a sweet little thing.

He himself had told his particulars to the group a few minutes before. His name was Mark, he was thirty-nine years old, unmarried, had volunteered at the food bank because he felt it was his civic duty. Actually, he was there because he couldn’t endure the empty silences in his apartment, but that didn’t seem like a good thing to tell everyone.

Jen finished and sat down. The group leader started to drone on, but Mark was no longer listening. He was thinking of the beautiful girl opposite him, her simple, yet tantalizing shape and demeanor. She looked so precious, and yet so luscious. He wanted to pinch her cheek. Or kiss her cheek. Or kiss her lips.

His mind began to wander. He imagined her lips melting against his, his tongue probing greedily into her mouth. He thought of her chest pressed against his, her breathing starting to quicken. He wondered what it would be like to lower the zipper of those jeans, to see her waist wiggle as it slid off.

I want her, Mark thought. I want to see what she looks like naked, lick my chops at her perfect pussy, stick my dick deep inside her and shoot off my load. She can’t be more than eighteen years old. Dammit! What could she see in a man like me, twice her age?

That night Mark couldn’t get Jen out of his mind. He lay in bed, thinking about those legs, those sinuous legs, those legs that seemed to be made from a material that transcended the world and took him somewhere far away. His cock hardened into erection, oozing precum, by the sheer power of the memory of her face, her body. The way she stood, the way her legs shone in the light as everyone had walked to the parking lot on the way out. He lay there, his cock jerking, until he could endure no more, and masturbated himself to climax, wishing all the while that it was her hand on his cock instead of his own.


“We’ll put you in teams of two; one for each set of boxes, ok? Taylor, you go with James. Steve; you’re with Penny. Jen … you’ll sort with Mark.”

“Jen, you’ll sort with Mark!” Mark nearly jumped out of his chair. For an entire afternoon he would be sorting donated food across the table from a girl whose image he had masturbated to every night for a week. He was actually trembling when he got to his spot, but Jen wasn’t there. Typical, she probably wants to hang with some handsome guy instead of me, he thought gloomily. With a sigh, he set about the work of sorting the huge pile of cans, jars, and boxes all by himself.

Then he felt a tap on his shoulder.

“Hi Mark!”

There she was, the bright red lips, the pretty blue eyes, the smooth long brown hair. She was smiling at him. She was quite short, several inches shorter than he, but he still felt very small in her sensuous presence. He could only gape, not just at her, but at her outfit. She had on a plain white top and a very short skirt. Connolly High School, it said in bright red letters. “Sorry I’m late,” he could hear her saying, “but I had to go to cheerleading practice after school.” He nodded, gesturing towards the cans, “R … right over there … you can do th … that side” he sputtered. She giggled and got to work.

Mark could feel his heart racing. Years before, when he had been in high school, his dreams had been filled with the image of cheerleaders with their warm smiles and flitting short skirts. He remembered how they would jump up, often showing their panties, at the victories of the football team. Mark had not been on the football team. He was captain of the debating team, and had won prizes at math contests, but cheerleaders never went to that kind of event. He had always longed for the touch of their soft nubile bodies…

“So tell me about yourself, Mark!”

She was talking to him! He stared back at her, never hard to do with a pretty teenager in a cheerleader’s uniform. He tried to look into her eyes as he answered, but some mystical force sent his eyes back down to her bare, smooth legs.

“I’m … I’m an eng-engineer.”

“An engineer? That’s so cool! You must be really smart!”

He blushed.

“So what kind of engineering do you do?”

“Um … I … um … well … I do dig … digital imaging. Scanners and graphics and stuff.” He had given entire presentations on this topic elsewhere, but with this little girl it was all he could do to blurt out a sentence. She grinned at him, almost as if to reassure.

“So you’re like, into photography and stuff like that?”

“Y-yes. I do a lot of that work … I have a portfolio, in fact.”

“You do? I’d love to see it sometime! I love photography!”

“Th-that’s great!”

“Do you think you could give me some tips?”

This … this sweet little delight was interested in him? Nonsense, he thought, you’re just a mentor figure to her. She’s probably thinking of you just like one of her teachers at school. At that thought, he couldn’t help looking at her shapely legs again, and wished with all his heart that he was a teacher, and could spend half his day looking at pretty girls.

She continued chatting with him as they sorted, and gradually he trembled less, relaxed, and grew more comfortable. She had such a sweet smile, and a delightful, almost angelic face. His eyes roved over her body constantly as they talked and sorted. Seeing that short little skirt, barely covering her underpants, he wondered at what delights lay underneath. What would it be like to lift that skirt up, to pull those panties down, to fondle the ass and pussy that lay hidden inside it?

On the way home after the work was done, Mark’s mind was filled with thoughts of that luscious teenage body. Have to get her out of my head, he thought, and pulled out his phone. His bookmark collection had all the right links. One web site was headlined by a brown-haired girl, with a caption brashly saying, “SPURT YOUR JISM IN MY MOUTH!” She looked a little like Jen, though not quite as pretty. He scrolled through the site. There were the usual pictures of naked women, women spreading their vagina lips wide, women’s mouths hovering over a cock, women’s lips touching another woman’s lips. He thought of Jen doing all those things, and the telltale bulge began to surge in his pants.

“Hi Mark!”

He looked down. It was Jen! He turned beet red, teeth chattering. She had caught him looking at porn! Surely she’ll think I’m a pervert now. He gingerly started to put the phone away, but she was all smiles. “You don’t have to put it away.”

“I’m sorry … I … what?”

“I love those sites! In fact, can I tell you a secret?”

“Okay.”

“Let me whisper it in your ear.”

He bent down and her lips grazed his ear. He felt a tingle run through him as he felt her breath, but that paled into comparison to what he felt next. “I want have my own site like that one day!”

Mark’s jaw dropped and he stared at her, no longer attempting to hide the lust in his eyes. She grinned impishly. “When you said you were into photography, I even hoped if you might take some pictures of me!”

His eyes widened. He could not seem to get any words out.

As if in a dream, he heard his mouth uttering the words. “I would be glad to … you must come to my studio sometime.”

“Okay.” She smiled. “Where is it?”

“Um … the corner of Gilmore and Anderson.”

“Okay,” she said. “Could we make it this Saturday?”

This Saturday. Five days! “S-sure. What, um, what time do you think?”

“How about three?”

“Three, three … yes, of course. Three’s fine.”

“So we’ll see you then!” She started to head out, but turned around and said, “Enjoy your sites!” licking her lips wickedly. Mark felt his face turning red, but he also felt his erection rising within him.

The next five days seemed to last forever. At night, lying in bed, Mark let his imagination run wild, dreaming of Jen’s seductive body, fantasizing about having her, drinking in her lush youthfulness. Every night the image of Jen drove his dick to throbbing ecstasy, and every night he exploded into his hands and sheets, wishing only that it was her soft flesh that was receiving his cum.

Three o’clock on Saturday came. Mark had already been there over two hours, straightening everything out, making everything as spotless and organized as it had ever been. I’m still trying to impress the girls, he thought, still, at my age. His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Jen! He rushed upstairs.

There she was in front of the door. She was wearing a white halter top and a white skirt, a very short skirt that seemed to cover very little. He gaped at her navel, round and inviting. He gawked at her curvaceous waist, which seemed almost designed to lock his eyes onto them like a homing beacon.

Wordless, he motioned her inside, and down the stairs to the studio. She playfully danced down them as he trudged behind her, almost like a priest following a goddess. She was such a pretty, cheerful girl!

He got out his camera, and they went to work. As a model, she was a photographer’s dream, eager to perform, thinking of the next pose almost as soon as the shutter clicked, hardly needing any prompting or correction.

Jen standing in front of one of his backgrounds, grinning. Snap. She puts her leg on a stool, giving the camera a straight view of her panties. Snap. Teasingly, she begins to lift her skirt up. Snap. She starts to slide out of her uniform. Snap.

And then she was standing there in her underwear, and Mark’s cock was as hard as a rock. He had never in his life seen a pretty teenage girl wearing so little. He stared at her, her delightfully curved waist, the luscious breasts under her bra, the inviting V-shape of her panties. She looked at the wet spot on his crotch and giggled. “You know what I think,” she said, “when you’ve got the asses, show the masses!” She turned around and bent over, flaunting her half-covered ass in his face.

He took a picture of that, and many other things. She lay down coyly, leering at the camera. She knelt on the floor, tugging at the underwear. She stood plainly, smiling, as her nearly nude image was recorded.

They had already filled up one micro-disk, but she said, “Now comes the fun part.”

“The – fun part?”

“Yep.” With a quick motion, she peeled off her underwear, and stood there, as naked as the day she was born. Mark’s eyes bulged. Her pubic hair was also dark brown, straight and smooth, as fine as a lion’s mane. He could see the small outline of her pussy lips, luring him into their delights.

“I want you to take pictures of me naked.”

He stared. “Naked?”

“Yup. I’m gonna sell them on the Net. Lots of guys visit my web site and want nude pictures of me, and I figure that now that I’m eighteen, I can give them what they want, and make some money doing it.”

Mark felt himself starting to shake. She knelt down and spread her legs wide, grinning at him. “Does this turn you on?” she asked. Embarrassed, he could only nod. “OK, then take pictures of me whenever you’re turned on. Then I know the pic you’re taking is really hot!”

Mark started to click more pictures. Jen on her knees, fingers pointing invitingly at her pussy. Jen playfully revealing her breasts, pulling up her shirt. Jen lying on her side, seductively, the curves of her body tantalizing Mark so much he found himself wiggling.

Seeing how uncomfortable he was, Jen said, “You know Mark, I know you have a big hard-on. Why don’t you unzip your pants so you can be more comfortable?” It felt like a dream. Mark’s dick sprang out his zipper opening, pointing straight at Jen, visibly wet on its end.

She looked at it, wonderingly. She found that looking at it to be a quick and simple way of gauging the effectiveness of her poses. She wanted to use the power of her body, wanted Mark and men like him to hunger for her, desire for her, long to ravish and take her nubile form.

For Mark, the evening seemed like a dream. It was a dream, a fantasy, a pretty nude teenage girl dancing and prancing around in the most provocative poses she could think of. Visions of her luscious breasts, her silken thighs, her glistening pubic hair, her shimmeringly curved body blurred his vision and fogged his brain, so much so that he could scarcely now tell the difference between fantasy and reality.

Was that really her? Jen, the teenage hottie, saying that he deserved a reward for his work? Was that her hand touching his cock, fumbling at his pants, letting in a rush of air on his now naked skin? No, surely this isn’t real, he thought, surely I’m not being pushed into my sofa, surely Jen is not kneeling before me, mouth moving towards my dick. But it was real. She was really there. She brought her mouth closer to the head of his cock and kissed it quickly on its head.

A tingle of electricity surged through his body. He found himself sprawled on the couch, his cock as hard as a ramrod. He gazed down at Jen’s angelic face. She looked up at him and smiled, a sweet, innocent smile that excited him so much that he squirmed, his dick slapping against her cheeks. Laughing, she opened her mouth wide, impossibly wide. He saw it envelop his cock, felt the wet moisture of her breath on him.

A beautiful eighteen-year-old is sucking my cock, seared the thought into his brain. He felt the softness of her tongue massage his underside. He felt her go down, licking over his balls, nibbling on his inner thighs, teasing his groin, then swirling her tongue around the head of his cock again. He was moaning loudly now, feeling his body teased almost to the breaking point.

He looked down again and nearly fainted. There she was, her lovely mouth taking his cock all the way inside. “I’m gonna cum,” he said, but in response she only quickened the pace of her sucking. He felt wild abandon as his orgasm pulsed, flooding her young mouth with his cum. “Oh god, oh god oh god oh god,” he nearly screamed. His entire body was spent, and he was heaving.

Jen rose to her feet, her eyes twinkling, her body naked as a jaybird. He looked again at her perfect breasts, her inviting pubic hair, the rhythmic curves of her nubile body. She looked at him straight in the face and ostentatiously swallowed. Mark’s eyes widened in their sockets. She grinned, then turned around, wiggling her butt invitingly at him as she walked over to the mattress.

She flopped down onto it and spread her legs wide. Mark got up, advancing towards her, wanting to take that young body, wanting to ravish it, possess it, luxuriate in its youth and splendor and beauty. He looked at her beautiful pussy, saw the moisture on it glistening in the light, and felt his heart race. He saw her clit strutting between her lips proudly, confident in itself, standing at attention in the wonder that was her nudity. Then she said the words he longed to hear.

“Take me.”

Mark didn’t need to be told twice. She was his, a naked teenage girl, to fuck and suck and lick as he pleased. He felt the fire within him stir at the sight of her legs, spread open invitingly, tantalizing him with her fruits. He jumped onto her body, hands grasping, groping, his lips tearing into her, his breath hard on hers, his cock stabbing into her body. “Give it to me! Give me your dick!” she screamed. He almost crushed her with his weight, feeling his own body writhe and squirm as the wild passion coursed through him.

He swung back his hips and rammed his cock inside her, thrusting, hard, like a maniac, filled with lust, consumed with desire for that juicy young teenage flesh. I’m going to have her, he thought, I’m really going to have her. He fucked her as hard as he could, jolting his body into hers with all the force he could muster. Her face was writhed in desire, her eyes were rolling, her voice was moaning. He could feel the wetness of her pussy juices on his loins, the pressure of her pussy squeezing his cock.

“Yes … YES…” she screamed out as he felt her body tighten, shake, and vibrate into orgasm. The pressure of her pussy lips on his ramrod made him explode in a shattering climax of his own. His juice flooded into her, creaming her insides, exhausting them both with the sheer force and verve of its impact.

There they lay on the floor together, their bodies tingling, their minds racing. Mark still could hardly believe this was happening, all the more so when he felt the touch of Jen’s lips on his. It was a sweet, slow, soft kiss, the kind of kiss that can put a perfect finishing touch to a day of sheerest magic. He held her tightly against him, feeling her breasts on his chest and her ass in his hand.

“You know, you’re a really cool guy,” Jen said softly. “I’ve thought of asking other guys to do my photos but I’ve never felt comfortable with anyone like I do with you.”

“I have never in my life met a girl like you before.”

“I’m gonna need lots of pictures for my site, videos too. I could come over every week after the food bank and we could take some more? Would that be ok?”

Mark’s eyes widened.

“I can’t pay you though … at least … not with money,” she said slyly. He looked again, up and down, at her shapely figure and sighed.

“I look forward to it.”

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The Sight of Her Legs

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Romantic Sex Story :A TIME TO LOVE (chapter 2) 

Romantic Sex Story: A Time to Love: Chapter 2 by Jonas

Copyright© 2008 by Jonas

The week passed. It was one of those days-seem-never-ending-week-flies-by kinds of weeks. Before I knew it, I was standing before my open closet again, clad only in my bra and panties. I silently cursed myself for not purchasing a new outfit. The rational mind of mine refused to do so when I already had evening wear I’d never worn. Now I stewed over what to wear. Something sexy and revealing? Something more conservative? Was I trying to seduce him, or was this going to be clinical? Aaargh! I was half tempted to just call it off, but when I thought about it, my loins would quiver.

After an eternity, I decided on something classy, but sexy. I chose a “little black number”, a drape sheath that had shirred shoulder straps, a ruched sweetheart bodice that showed just a hint of my cleavage, and an elegant flowing skirt that started just below my bust and ended just midway down my thighs. I laid it out on my bed beside my new black bra and panty set. The set was made of a shear, lightweight mesh. The bra was intended to accentuate my B-cup and provide a pleasant cleavage, and the panties were a simple high cut thong. Of course, I finished the look with open-toe high heels, a pearl necklace and a small black clutch. I decided this would work. If I wasn’t enticing in this outfit, then we had a lost cause.

I hopped in the shower, and let the hot water pulse across my skin. I began to soap myself, starting first at my breasts. When my hands brushed across my nipples, a little shudder radiated through my body, leaving me breathless. My god. I was so horny. I didn’t even realize it as I had been so focused on finding just the right thing to wear. I held out my trembling hand. Take a breath, Emily. Get a grip. It’s not like you’ve never been on a date before. True. But you’ve never been on one like this. I shook my head and finished my cleaning, spending just enough time to clean my sex without causing more problems than I already had. I spent the next hour making myself presentable.

I stood before the full length mirror on the back of my door. I turned one way, then the other, never taking my eyes off my image. I smiled. Damn, girl, you look good. I was pleased. I had added a little highlight to my cleavage to enhance it. The bra also helped. The skirt fell just to where my thigh muscle was beginning to form, which definitely added some definition to my leg. I always thought my legs were attractive. Not the long legs that guys seem to swoon over, but definitely shapely.

I sighed, resigned that I’d done all I could do. I grabbed my black stole and headed out the door. The drive to the Barkers was too fast, and my anxiety had reached a peak by the time I arrived and pulled into their driveway. I went up the front steps and waited. At precisely 8:05, Almarosa opened the door. She did not speak, but moved to the side so I could enter. She silently led me into a small office down the hall from the sitting room I had been in earlier. I entered and she shut the door behind me. I stood looking around the room. My eyes immediately focused on a single rose lying on the large mahogany desk. Next to the rose was a baby monitor and an envelope. My name was written in a beautiful script across the front of the envelope. I picked up the rose and inhaled its sweet fragrance, then tore into the envelope. I noted that a different, subtle scent drifted up from the contents. I smiled. Somehow I knew Leah would put perfume on her letters. I opened the paper and read.

Emily,

First let me thank you again for your willingness to do this for me and for Ben. While I know we will probably benefit most from this arrangement, I hope and pray that you will get something special from it, as well. I’m not sure where things will go from here, but if nothing else, this will hopefully be at least one special night for two obviously special people—you and Ben.

On to the plan … At about 8:30, I will take Ben from the dining room to the sitting room down the hall. I will explain his gift to him. If I feel like he will be receptive, I will turn on the two-way monitor so you can hear the rest of the conversation. When you feel like the time is right, make your appearance, and we will let things move from there.

If you do not hear anything from the monitor by 9:00, it is because he was not receptive to the proposal. You may leave at that time by the kitchen entrance, up the hall and to your right. If you want me to call you later to discuss the situation and maybe try again, take the rose. If you would rather I not contact you, leave the rose.

Just so you know, I am sure this evening will not end for you at 9:00.

My love,

Leah

I looked at the clock on the book shelf behind the desk. 8:15. I took a deep breath, sat back in the leather chair behind me and waited. After sitting for what seemed an eternity, I got up and began to pace the room, reading the spines of the books on the shelves. I glanced at the clock. 8:22. Oh, god this was excruciating. I alternated between sitting and pacing as the seconds slowly ticked away. Just when I thought my sanity was going to slip away with the seconds, I heard a click and the faint buzz of background noise emanate from the monitor. My heart stopped. This was it. I leaned forward to listen for voices.

“You say this will make you happy. But will it really?”

“Ben, you’ve done everything you could for me over the years, and your selflessness has shone through since the accident. I’m not sure I can live with myself without giving you this … this most precious thing.”

“Leah, you don’t owe me anything.”

“I know. I’m not suggesting this out of obligation. I love you. I know there is no way anyone could love you more than me. I want this out of love. Pure, powerful love.”

I was glad I chose to wear my waterproof mascara. I grabbed a tissue from the box on the shelf and dabbed the tears beginning to form in my eyes so that it wouldn’t streak my other makeup.

Ben sighed. “I love you. And I know you love me. You don’t have to do this to show that.” There was a pause. “OK. I can see you’ve set your mind to this. I would be lying if I said the idea didn’t have appeal. I could only consider it because you seem so sure this is what you want for me, for us.”

“I know, and that’s why I’m offering it to you.”

“But we still have a problem. I made a commitment years ago that I would never have sex with someone I didn’t love. I’ve not met someone else I love. I’ve not even actively looked for someone else.”

“I’m not so sure about that, honey.” Another pause. “Think, Ben. You may not have actively looked, but I think it just kind of happened.” Another pause. “You are so cute when you are confused. I know there is someone else you love; I just don’t think you realize it.”

“What? Who? How do you know this?”

“OK. I’ll explain. First, she made you feel good about yourself, when you were feeling your worst. Then you began to change, for the better. She encouraged you, and you listened to her. When you saw her the last time, you were practically floating when you came home, and when you talked about her, I saw the look.”

“What look?”

“The look, Ben. The look you’ve only ever reserved for me. I know it because I’ve seen it many times.” Another pause, and then she laughed. “Still don’t know who?”

This was my cue. I knew it. I wasn’t sure my legs would cooperate. My knees were knocking as I rose and opened the door to the office. I paused just a moment in the hallway. A turn to the left, up the hallway and to the right, and I’d be on my way home. I turned right and cautiously walked down the hallway. The sitting room doorway was only inches away. I held my breath and stepped into the entry. Ben’s back was to me. He was kneeling in front of Leah, her hands clasped in his. My heart fluttered when I saw his gentleness with her. She saw me and smiled. As he was looking up at her face, he noticed her smile. He turned his head to look back at what caught her attention, and his jaw dropped.

Not knowing what to do, I cast my eyes down, and smiled demurely. I looked back up through my eyelashes. I hadn’t intended to give a sultry, sexy look, but I’m sure it came out that way. He looked back at Leah, his mouth moving, but nothing coming out. Then he looked at me again. He slowly stood, still clutching one of Leah’s hands and turned to stand beside her.

“Uh, I’m … Welcome, Emily,” he stammered. “This is my … er … I guess, um, you two have probably already met.” I almost laughed at his discomfort. Not out of meanness, mind you, but because I was almost in hysterics. Uncomfortable silence stifled the air in the room. I saw Leah squeeze his hand, prompting him to continue. “Oh, um, Emily, please come in. Have a seat.” He motioned to the sofa.

I complied, and sat softly where he pointed. He remained standing looking down at me. I decided I needed to meet his gaze, so I raised my eyes to look at him. His gaze was piercing, and it made my heart thump, taking my breath away. I wasn’t sure what I read in his look, but there was no doubt that whatever it was, it was passionate. His eyes seemed ablaze.

“Sit, Ben,” Leah coaxed. He released her hand and came and sat on the sofa. The other end of the sofa. I had a vague sense of feeling like a teenage couple on a first date. Leah smiled warmly at us. “I realize that you two are uncomfortable, unsure of what to do, if anything. Let me say a few words first.” She looked at Ben. “Honey, you said you didn’t love anyone else. Well, you are wrong. You’ve fallen in love with Emily. I know you’ve only seen her three times for a total of maybe 30 minutes, but sometimes you just know. Am I speaking the truth?”

Ben looked from his wife to me. While he spoke to her, I was sure his words were meant for me as well. “I’m not sure how it happened, Leah. I never intended for something like this to happen. It’s just that when she came into the office, she seemed so genuinely interested in my well-being. I just chalked it up to professional courtesy. Still, when I saw her the next time, the way she continued to encourage me just made me feel … special. I vowed I’d do what she asked, so I recommitted myself to getting in better shape. Not for her, necessarily. I mean, I never expected to see her again. I just knew it was what you wanted, and then she was encouraging me, too. When I saw her last week, I noticed her reaction to me. I’m sure I misread it, but it thrilled me nonetheless.” He was looking at me intently. “Sometime during the last few years, I guess I fell in love with her.” He smiled, and directed his next comment at me. “I’m probably not the first patient to have fallen in love with you, but I’m probably the first to admit it.”

I blushed, not sure what to say. Leah rescued me … sort of.

“Ben, I knew this. There was no doubt in my mind after last week. I was silently grateful, because one part of my wish was complete. However, Emily, you were the wildcard. Several things put my mind at ease. First, you accepted my invitation to dinner, knowing I had a request. Yet, you didn’t push me on the phone. Second, you were sincere in your emotions when I told you our story. Thirdly, you gave the acceptable amount of resistance, yet all of your concerns had to do with me and Ben, never yourself. Fourthly, you agreed to think on it before accepting, which tells me it meant something more than just sex to you. And lastly, you are here tonight.” She leaned forward in her chair. “Emily, how long have you been in love with my husband? I can see from your reaction that you know you are.”

I was taken aback by her question. Not one I expected to have to answer tonight. She was right, of course. I was in love with him. I never really believed in “love at first sight”. But that’s not what this was. I had only seen him for a short amount of time, but I’d had years for this to develop. When did it start? I was silent for a long time, my mind first trying to work it out, then trying to decide how to say it. Finally, I felt reasonably sure I could explain. “I … I guess it just happened over time. I noticed something in him the first time I saw him. I could see he was different, unique. The second time I saw him I noticed something else in him. It was a kind of sadness. Too me it showed he had depth. I realize now that you, Leah, were the object of that depth. I thought about him off and on during the next few months before time caused him to fade from my memory. When I saw his folder last week, every memory, every feeling came rushing back. I hadn’t even seen him yet. Just saw his name. I must admit that when I did finally see him, I was slack jawed.” I blushed. Leah smiled sweetly. Ben fidgeted. I continued. “Then he shared what to me was a most tender and loving moment. He talked about you. I could see the love in his eyes, and my heart melted. My first thought was that I would give everything to have a man love me like that.”

I could feel tears begin to well in my eyes, and I tried to fight the emotions. Leah had tears in her eyes. I looked over at Ben, whose expression spoke tenderness and love. I spoke to him. “Hindsight is 20/20, they say. I realize now that I would give everything to have you love me like that.” I couldn’t hold it anymore, and the tears spilled over. So much for my makeup. Ben slid over and wrapped his arm around my shoulders. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to me. I took it and burrowed into his side, letting my emotions feel the warmth of his embrace. I could hear Leah’s sniffles. Ben slowly caressed my arm while I regained my composure.

Leah sighed, and I looked up at her. She was smiling a beautiful, radiant smile. She was happy. Truly happy. I couldn’t imagine loving someone as much as she did that you would be this happy for them to be with another. I envied her, and silently pleaded with god that I someday have that love.

“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go my office to do some much needed work.” She spoke quietly. “I imagine it will take me well into the night. I’ve had Almarosa prepare our old master bedroom for you two.” She wheeled out before we could protest.

The uncomfortableness draped over us again. I continued to dab my eyes from time to time, still unable to make eye contact. He continued to slowly caress my arm and hug me tight. I had to say something to break the silence. “Crazy night, huh?” I said. Oscar worthy dialog, it wasn’t. He just laughed a short, quiet laugh. I was wondering what to do next, when he spoke.

“Emily. Look at me.” I hesitated, and then felt his hand under my chin, gently coaxing my head up. I looked at him, at his warm, handsome face. “Emily, I meant what I said. I didn’t realize it until Leah hit me in the face with the proverbial brick, but I love you.” This forced another few tears to propel themselves from my eyes. He smiled tenderly and reached up with his hand, using his thumb to catch the tears and wipe them away. His loving caress sent chills down my spine and out over my skin. Still keeping eye contact, he lovingly put his thumb in his mouth, tasting my salty tears. The act was simple, yet surprisingly erotic. He leaned his head down to mine, and I closed my eyes, prepared for whatever was to happen. To my surprise, however, he didn’t kiss my lips. He softly pressed his lips to each of my eyelids before pulling back. I was breathless. I slowly let my eyes flutter open and looked up into his eyes. They were still warm, but I caught just a hint of insecurity.

Knowing he was as unsure as I was helped me feel more at ease. It also helped me feel bolder. I reached up and let my fingers trace the contours of his face. Then I placed my hand on the back of his neck, gently pulling him down to me. I closed my eyes and parted my lips. He hesitated just a moment, letting his breath bathe my lips, before pressing his lips into mine. I tiny whimper escaped my throat as our kiss became more involved, more passionate. Soon I felt his tongue darting across my lips, exploring them, tasting them. He pressed his tongue against them, and I parted them, inviting him in. I felt like my heart was going to burst out of my chest. My pulse was racing as our lips and tongues mated, discovering a shared intimacy. We continued our kissing for several minutes before parting to catch our breaths.

Ben stood, and reached his hand down to me, waiting for me to reach up to him. I noted the subtleness of this gesture. He didn’t take my hand. He waited for me to take his hand. It was a small gesture that spoke volumes, and it made me love him more. It was like he was saying, one more time, that the choice was mine. So I made it. I reached up for his hand, and he pulled me to standing beside him. The foot height difference was glaringly obvious now. Without hesitation, he reached down and scooped me up. I giggled at the feeling of weightlessness and then wrapped my arms around his neck, pulling him down for another passionate kiss. When the kiss broke, he carried me out of the sitting room and began the ascent up the stairs.

Something was missing. I almost panicked. “Wait,” I said abruptly. He stopped and the look of insecurity returned. I smiled up at him and placed a gentle peck on his lips. “We’re forgetting something. Put me down and follow me.” Confusion replaced the insecurity, but he did as I asked.

I took his hand and led him down the stairs and over to the door of the office. I quietly opened the door. Leah was sitting in her wheelchair with her back to us. My eyes followed her gaze and saw that she was looking at the large wedding picture on the wall. It was a younger version of the two of them, looking deeply into each other’s eyes. I saw the look on those faces in the picture, the look that Leah always referred to. Again, quiet tears sprang forth, dripping down my cheeks. I moved over to stand a few feet behind Leah.

“It’s a beautiful picture, Leah,” I said quietly. She started and quickly wiped at her face. She turned her chair and looked up at me with a questioning look. I knelt beside her and took her hands in mine. “I want to do this, Leah. For Ben, for me, and for you. It won’t be right if you aren’t there with us.”

“Emily, I told you. I can’t—”

“Shhh … Listen to me. I know what you’ve said. I need you there; I need your reassurance that this is what you want. I’m not trying to cause any more anguish, but I think you need to be there, too, for you and for Ben.”

She looked at me, weighing what I’d said. Then she looked down at our hands and nodded. Ben moved over from the doorway, and scooped Leah up just as he had done to me previously. I followed them as he headed up the stairs. He stopped in front of a pair of closed French doors. I turned the handle and pushed them open and stepped aside for him to enter. I followed and gasped when I saw the immaculate room. The room was beautiful, decorated in luxuriant fabrics, shiny metals, sparkling glass and rich colors. A large king sized bed filled the center of one wall. I pointed to the head of the bed, indicating that Ben should place Leah there. As he did, she spoke.

“I haven’t been in this room for, well, years. After the accident it just made more sense to put our room on the main floor.” Ben smoothed Leah’s skirt, and then kissed her passionately. I felt for a brief moment that I should turn away from this intimate act, but decided to watch. I mean, we were going to be showing a lot more than that. He stood up and looked down at his wife.

I decided everything was right now. I stepped over and took his hand. He turned to look at me and then turned to fully wrap his arms around my waist. He leaned over so I could wrap my arms around his neck and I felt his full lips on mine again. This time our kissing was more feverish. His hands wandered all over my back, and then down to cup my ass. I moaned quietly and he moved his lips from mine, dragging them over my face and down to my neck, licking and nipping as he went. I felt my pussy responding. I knew my panties were already drenched. I pressed into him, and was pleased at the hardness I felt against my belly.

Ben brought one hand up around in front of me as his lips continued to explore my neck, face and mouth. He pressed his hand against my small, perky breast. “Oh, god, Ben…” I gasped. I could feel his hand massage and knead the soft flesh, and then he pinched my hardened nipple between two knuckles, eliciting another moan from me. I reach my trembling hand down and pressed them against his hardness, tracing the outline of his cock in his pants. He nipped my earlobe in response and breathed hotly into my ear. I thought my legs were going to give way. He must have thought so, too, because he slipped his hand back around to my ass and stood up fully, lifting me with him. His lips never left my skin, so I wrapped my legs around his waist. I put my arms back around his neck and our lips and tongues connected again.

He turned and stepped backwards a few steps to the bed before sitting down on the edge. I opened my eyes as our lips parted and looked at Leah. Her hand was massaging her breast over her blouse, and I could see the look of lust in her eyes. I hoped—no I prayed—that her presence was the right thing and that she would be satisfied. I pulled out of Ben’s embrace and stepped off and away from the bed. My eyes went from Ben to Leah and back to Ben. They were both intently focused on me. I’d never done what I was about to do, but considering I was about to become an exhibitionist, it just seemed like the right thing to do. I tried to think of the sexiest music I could and played it in my mind. Then I began to move myself to the rhythm.

I swayed and gyrated, trying my best to provide the most erotic striptease I could. I reached down and grabbed the hem of my dress, and slowly, teasingly inched it up, before letting it fall again. I did this, watching my audience. Ben licked his lips and pushed down on his erection. Leah was wide-eyed and was pinching at her nipple. I teased like this for a time, then I pulled the dress up and continued until I pulled it over my head. Leah gasped. I let it drop in a pile at my feet.

“Emily, you are amazing, gorgeous,” Ben said huskily. I blushed at the compliment, but I doubt it showed since I was flushed with arousal already. I stepped back over to the bed and between Ben’s knees. Due to our height difference, his face was only inches from my breasts. He leaned forward and planted little kisses on my cleavage. His lips burned into my skin. I reached down and began to tug at his shirt. He tried to unbutton it, succeeding with the top few buttons, but then in frustration he raised his arms and together we pulled it off him. I took the opportunity to admire my lover. Just as in my fantasy, I traced the lines of his arm and back muscles with my fingertips, drawing little bumps to the surface of his skin. He had both hands up and was caressing my breasts, pinching nipples and kneading the small mounds of flesh. His lips and tongue painted my cleavage.

I pushed him back so he was lying on the bed, his feet on the floor. I leaned forward and unbuckled his belt as seductively as possible, trying to keep up my show. He lifted his head to look at my little hands, then let it fall back to the bed. With the belt and pants undone, I grabbed the pants and began to tug them down. He raised his ass and the pants gave way easily. I pulled them down and he raised his feet to allow me to remove them. I looked down over his abdomen. He had on cotton boxers that were straining to contain his bulging erection. I could feel my pussy respond and coat my panties again. I looked in lust at the wet spot on the front of his shorts and longed to take his cock in my mouth. However, I knew I wanted this to be really special. I climbed on the bed and straddled him. I pressed my crotch down on his and he groaned. The pressure of his hardness against my inflamed pussy sent tingles through me. Oh god, I want this now.

I began to gyrate my hips, grinding my pussy onto his cock. As I did, I reach behind me to release the clasp of my bra. I then cupped my breasts in my hands, massaging them as he had done, before lowering my arms and letting my bra fall free. I felt his cock jump, and the movement increased my arousal. I could hear Leah whimper a little, but kept my gaze down at his face. With my breasts free, I leaned forward, resting my hands on his chest, covered with a sparse layer of hair. I renewed my movements and he began bucking his hips up at me. Our breathing was harder now. He pushed hard against me and his bulge shoved against my swollen clit.

“Oh, god…” I moaned, tucking my chin into my chest. His hands moved to my hips and he pulled me harder down on him. I could feel myself beginning to crest. Now my hips were really flying. My eyes were shut tightly and I was panting. Then the climax came. I shuddered and hissed through gritted teeth as my body convulsed. He bucked up again and again, keeping me at my peak for several moments. I had hardly finished when his hands began to urge me to move forward. I crawled on my knees up to his chest and then to his head. He scooted down and I crawled over his shoulders, my body swaying unsteadily above his head.

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Romantic Sex Story: A Time to Love: Chapter 2 by Jonas
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A TIME TO LOVE chapter 1 (+18 Erotic Romance)

Romantic Sex Story: A Time to Love: Chapter 1 by Jonas

Copyright© 2008 by Jonas

I pulled into the parking lot of the clinic, the second person to arrive. Geri, the office manager, would already be here well into her day. She was obsessed with it, and while she could be a little abrasive in her demeanor, we were all thankful for her help.

I had finished my schooling and was two years into my professional career. My first job was a temporary position at a small regional hospital, but I had longed for a spot in a clinic. About two months ago, Sarah had called and said their practice had expanded and the doctor was looking for a second nurse practitioner. She asked if I was interested, and when I said yes, she promptly offered me the job. So here I was.

I went in to my office and prepared for the day. Sarah and the other staff trickled in over the next hour, and soon the patients were arriving. I was getting ready to meet with my fourth patient of the day when the name on the chart caught my attention. Ben Barker. I felt my heart flutter again. I hadn’t thought about the big guy in years, but the image of him came immediately. He was nearly a foot taller than my 5’2″ and nearly 200 pounds heavier than my 110 pounds. I smiled at the contrast. I was a blonde, he was a brunette. I had blue eyes, he had brown. Everything about him was big, everything about me was small. He was in his mid thirties, I was in my mid twenties. He was married, I was single. Yes, a remarkable contrast. And yet, I’d felt enamored with him.

I told myself again it was just his warm nature that was attractive to me, and then I opened the door. My jaw dropped. Sitting there was not the big man I expected. I mean, he was still big, but not like before. I was tongue tied. “Um, hi, uh, Ben.” I almost blushed, but fought it down.

A sincere smile spread across his face, lighting up his brown eyes. “Emily! I didn’t know you’d returned.”

“Yeah, I, um, they had an opening here and I took the job. I’ve been back about two months.”

“Well, it’s great to see you! Looks like you made it through school then.”

Safe ground. School. I willed my heartbeat to slow down. “I did. It was hard, but I’m glad I finished it. I’m enjoying my career.”

“I’m glad you finished it, too.” His smile was infectious.

I sat next to him and glanced through his chart. His weight was down to 225. Amazing. “Ben, you look great! You’ve lost nearly a hundred pounds since I last saw you. How are you feeling?”

Ben proceeded to tell me about his improved health, as well as some of the complications that were still there. I tried to keep my mind on his words, but they were constantly drifting. I watched him talk. I watched him move. The man was handsome. Very handsome. Not gorgeous, like some of the men I’d dated. But very, very handsome. He wore very unassuming eyeglasses that only enhanced the sparkle in his eyes and gave him an air of intelligence. That, along with his rugged good looks and personality, was unbelievably attractive. He’s married, I scolded myself, and forced my attention back to his words.

“Jake still tires me out, but not as quickly.” His eyes sparkled again when he mentioned his son.

I had a sudden memory of a sadness during a previous discussion of his family, so I debated internally about whether to inquire about them. The curious side of me won out. “How is your son? He’s, what, five or six now?”

“Almost six. He’s great, a regular ball of energy. Loves sports, just like his old man, and he puts forth his best effort. But honestly, he’s more of an intellectual, which I guess is just like me, too. He’s not very competitive or aggressive.”

His eyes still sparkled, so I changed directions. “And your wife? How is she?”

There it was. The flash of sadness. The smile didn’t disappear, but it faded somewhat. “She’s … fine. As good as could be expected, I guess.” Well, if that wasn’t cryptic … Ben was so easy to talk to, I decided to pursue.

“Ben, I don’t mean to pry, but I guess my curiosity is just too much. You can just ignore the question, but … well, what’s wrong with your wife?”

He cast his gaze to the floor and the smile disappeared this time. I scolded myself for my boldness and nosiness. He was quiet for the longest time. It suddenly dawned on me that we hadn’t addressed his reason for the visit. I cleared my throat and went about business, angry at myself for straying off track. Ben was subdued the rest of the visit. As I stood up to say goodbye, he finally spoke.

“My wife is paralyzed.” His eyes began to glisten. He looked past me to somewhere not in the room, and the anguish on his face was obvious.

I reached out and put my hand on his arm. “Ben, I’m … sorry … about your wife, and I’m sorry I asked. I shouldn’t have.”

He continued like I hadn’t spoken. “She has no movement or feeling from the waist down. Been that way for four years. She was heading to pick up my sister from the airport, because once again I was too busy at the office. A drunk driver crossed the median and plowed into her car head on. Broke her back and damaged her spinal cord. The doctors don’t think she’ll ever regain feeling.” A lone tear slid down his cheek.

I felt a lump in my throat and a part of me wanted to pull this wonderful man into an embrace. I just rubbed his arm. “Oh, Ben. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to open any wounds.”

He looked at me, and a gentle smile just touched his lips. “It’s OK, Emily. It’s life. We can’t avoid it. We live it every day, and we get through it every day. It just hurts sometimes to remember life before.”

I suddenly realized I’d been in with John for some time, longer than was customary. I silently cursed this billable hours concept. “If you ever need to talk about this, I’m willing to listen. I’m not a therapist or anything, but I am providing your primary care. Mental anguish, grief and stress all contribute to your health. I can help however you need.”

His smile grew, and I was lost again in the gentleness of his eyes. “Thanks, Emily. I’ll keep that in mind.”

We parted company, and I was sure I wouldn’t see or hear from him again until his next labs in six months.

About a week passed, when I arrived at my office to a surprise. Geri had left a note on my desk that I had received a call that morning already. I looked at the name: Leah Barker. Could that be … Doubtful. Barker was a common enough name. Still, I was nervous about the call, so I put it off for several hours. Just prior to starting my afternoon appointments, I made the callback. A sweet voice answered the phone.

“This is Emily Schultz from HealthChoice. Could I speak with Leah Barker, please?”

“Hello, Emily. This is Leah.” The voice sounded hesitant, which did little to ease my mind.

“It’s nice to speak with you, Ms. Barker. How may I help you?”

“Please, call me Leah. I, um, I’m calling regarding my husband. He’s one of your patients. Ben Barker.” I knew it. I was hesitant to acknowledge that Ben was a patient, what with all the privacy issues. “It’s OK, Emily. I know you’ll need to check the file to see if Ben has given permission to speak with me. You can do that later. I just need to ask you for a favor.”

I was a little taken aback. It’s not every day that the spouse of a patient calls for a favor. I was apprehensive, to say the least. “I’m not sure how to respond to that. I guess it would depend on the favor.”

Leah laughed quietly. “I can understand that. I really don’t feel comfortable doing this on the phone, however. Would you be willing to meet with me to discuss this favor? I don’t think this really has anything to do with doctor/patient stuff, but you can review Ben’s file if you need to before then.”

By this point, I was very intrigued. As is often the case, my curiosity clouded my better judgment. “Where and when would you like to meet?”

“Well, given my current situation, it might be best to meet at our house.”

“Oh, that’s right,” I replied, somewhat embarrassingly. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s OK. Are you available after work today? Maybe you could come over for dinner, about 6:30 p.m. Ben is on a business trip, so it will just be you, me and Jake.”

Leah gave me directions, and then we hung up. My heart was pounding. Why was I so nervous about this? Because he was a patient? Because I’d felt some attraction to the man? Only time would tell, so I went about my afternoon schedule. The hours seemed to creep away, slowly. It seemed the end of the day would never come. After I finished up my notes for the day, I hopped in the car for the short drive home. I immediately headed to the bedroom, stripping my slacks and shirt off. I stood in front of the open closet, clad only in my panties and bra. I rifled through the clothes there and frowned in frustration. Nothing seemed appropriate. Slacks and a blouse? Evening dress? Shorts and a tee? I should have asked what the attire was. Get a grip, girl, I told myself. It’s dinner with a patient’s family. It’s not a date. Yet I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was going to be on display. I settled for brown cropped canvas pants, a printed scoopneck mesh top and pair of thong sandals. Nice and neutral.

On the way to the Barker home, I stopped to grab a bottle of drink, something my mother has always said was a nice gesture when invited to a dinner party. In light of Leah’s situation, I opted for a sparkling apple cider as opposed to alcohol, which was just fine for me.

I pulled in front of their home, a lovely two story craftsman. I took a deep breath before getting out of the car. Why was I so nervous? I rang the bell with a trembling hand, then smoothed down my pants nervously while I waited. I almost rang the bell again, when it was opened by a dark haired Hispanic woman, probably in her fifties.

“Um, I’m Emily Schultz. Leah is expecting me.”

The woman smiled warmly and took my handbag and the bottle of cider. She gestured me into a quaint sitting room and told me in broken English that Leah would be with me shortly. I sat on the edge of the sofa and waited. Only a minute or so had passed, when I had company.

I glanced up to see a little boy standing behind the armchair just next to the entrance to the room. I smiled as warmly as I could. “Well, hello there. You must be Jake.” There was no mistaking that Ben was this boy’s father. It was like looking at a mini-Ben. He slowly came closer to me, keeping the coffee table between us. My eyes followed him with an amused expression.

“Ben was right.” I quickly looked back to the doorway to see a beautiful—strikingly beautiful—woman there. I guessed she was taller than me by about five inches, but it was hard to tell from her position in the wheelchair. I stood up and smiled at her. “Please, sit down.” She wheeled quietly into the room and pulled up next to the sofa. She had a warm smile on her face, similar to how Ben would smile. I felt instantly at ease.

“Thank you. You must be Leah. It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Emily.” She had beautiful features. Long flowing red hair, deep green eyes, smooth skin and long, slender fingers, which she held in her lap. Her lips were full and her smile was huge. I felt an instant sadness for this beautiful woman whose life had been tragically altered by someone else’s stupidity. I could sense a similar sadness in her eyes.

I decided to pick up the conversation on her earlier comment. “Ben was right about what?”

“You are beautiful.” I blushed. Ben said I was beautiful. I was surprised and flattered. I was also slightly aghast that he would tell his wife that.

“Oh. Well, I, uh, I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

“I should be the one thanking you,” Leah replied. Now I was confused. Why was she thanking me? I only went over lab results with him the last time. Did she thank all of their doctors with dinner?

“Excuse me if I’m a little confused here. Why would you be thanking me?”

At that moment, the Hispanic woman entered the room. “Dinner is ready.”

“Thank you, Almarosa.” The woman left. “We can talk more over dinner. Shall we?” I stood and she turned and led the way across the hall to the dining room. We took our seats, Leah on the end and Jake and I on either side. Almarosa served the food—a succulent chicken and rice dish with a green salad on the side. When she poured my sparkling cider, a look of tenderness washed over Leah’s face. “Emily, that was so thoughtful of you to purchase something non-alcoholic. Thank you.”

I just smiled my response. We chatted about casual things during the bulk of the meal. Ben was an IT manager at a regional manufacturer and was currently out of state doing a software rollout. He had been with that company ever since he’d left school. Jake was in kindergarten. Leah worked from home providing back office support for several eBay businesses. They loved to travel, and still did it often, though some of their favorite activities had to be put aside. Leah asked about my career, my school and my background. What could have seemed like a job interview actually seemed more like two old friends catching up. By the time dinner was over, Jake was tucked into bed and we were taking tea in the sitting room, I felt like I had known this remarkable woman my whole life.

As we settled in the sitting room, she came back to the point of my visit. “Emily, I want to thank you for what you’ve done for my husband. He took my accident so hard, blaming himself, and he let it consume him. He was kind of a workaholic before the accident, rarely taking time for extra things. He seemed to think that if he had been more involved in our lives, I would never have had the accident. Anyway, he’d let his health, among other things, falter. He seemed to deal with his stress by overeating. He ballooned to well over 300 pounds. I get the impression that the guilt had become too much for him. I was afraid he might do something drastic when he began to stop eating. He dropped a few pounds. That’s when he met you.”

My mind was reeling. I could clearly remember the warm, happy man who I first met years ago. He didn’t sound anything like what she described.

She continued, as if reading my thoughts. “He always put on such a front. Some good came from my accident. He became a more selfless person, always concerned about others. He spent less time at the office and more time at home. But I could see that, while he wanted to do this, it was almost too much for him. He came home from the doctor’s office that first day meeting you and he was practically bouncing. He didn’t say much, but he mentioned you by name and said you had praised him for losing weight. He didn’t change much during the next few weeks, but he became even more attentive to my feelings. He didn’t seem as anguished around me. Then he came back from the next visit a changed man. He mentioned you again by name, said you were leaving, and that you’d encouraged him to keep up the weight loss.

“Things changed that day, Emily. For the better. He seemed to be driven to spend more time with us, and not out of guilt but out of love. He found a healthy balance between his work and our family. He lost most of that weight, as you could see, and he found a new sense of purpose. For the most part things have been wonderful for several years. I want to thank you for saving my husband and saving my family.”

By this point, I couldn’t help myself. My eyes had overflowed with tears. The story, the way she told it, was so tender. Here was a woman who was so obviously in love with her husband, and a man so obviously in love with his wife. Yet they almost missed out. For whatever reason, what they had almost disappeared. And now she was thanking me, as if I had some part in this. I personally thought my role had been somewhat embellished, but she seemed to genuinely believe that it was worth thanking me for. I looked at her, and she was wiping her tears with the back of her hand.

“Leah, I don’t know what to say. I’m so glad things have gotten better for your family, for you and Ben. I’m not really sure I did that much, but I’m glad that I could do what I did.” I wondered how much to say. “In just the short amount of time I’ve spent with you tonight, and with Ben at the office, I must admit that I feel a sense of warmness for your family. So it means a lot to think I’ve helped you in some way. I really am glad things are going so well.”

Leah’s face clouded again. “They are going well. But they aren’t perfect. And this is why I’ve asked you here.” I’m sure my confusion showed. “I have a very important favor to ask you, but I’m very, very nervous about how you’ll respond.”

I leaned forward, putting my hand gently on her knee. “Please, feel free to ask. I promise not to overreact.” I tried to sound reassuring.

She took a deep breath and looked at me. Her eyes were piercing, full of intensity. I swallowed, feeling nervous now myself. “Emily, I love my husband very much. He’s been more than I could have ever asked for. He takes such good care of me and Jake. He shows his love for me in all facets of his life. He’s romantic, sweet, tender, funny, strong. Just an amazing man. He would never tell me to my face what I’m about to tell you, because he wouldn’t want to hurt me.

“I have been unable to … how do I say this … I’ve been unable to make love with him since my accident.”

I blushed, but tried to keep my face impassive. I needed to see where this was heading.

“It’s not for lack of desire, it’s just that I can’t respond to him. I can’t feel anything beneath my waist. Anything. We’ve tried a few times, but I can’t fake what isn’t there. I don’t have that in me, and besides, he’d recognize it immediately. I can’t climax, and my body doesn’t respond appropriately to allow us comfortable intercourse. We’ve tried using other methods to at least bring him release. I use my hands, mouth. That works sometimes, but I just get so tired so quickly. I know he gets stressed about causing me any pain or discomfort, which means he can’t enjoy it. It’s been the one thing that continues to cause pain. Not physical, but pain right here.” She pointed adamantly at her heart.

“Leah, I’m so sorry to hear that.” How do you respond to such an intimate confession? And what did this have to do with me? I could imagine where this was going, but I refused to allow myself to go with it. “I can’t imagine what this must be like for you and Ben.”

She sniffed and wiped at her tears again. “I have suggested to Ben that he consider finding another lover. Someone who can meet his physical needs. He refuses to even discuss it. He brushes off how much the missed sex is affecting him, but I can see it. He always says he doesn’t love anyone else and never will, and that he couldn’t have sex with someone he didn’t love, and I believe him.” She took another deep breath. “Emily, I’m afraid this is beginning to drive a wedge into our relationship. He doesn’t do it on purpose, but he’s only human.”

I could make out the anxiety, the panic in her tone, and I felt my own emotions get the best of me again. I wiped at my own tears, but could say nothing.

“Emily, this will probably shock you, but … well … I think my husband has fallen in love with you.”

You could have picked my chin up off the floor I was so shocked. Maybe I should have seen her comment coming, but I didn’t. I tried to speak, but couldn’t. I took a breath, and tried again. “Leah, y-you must be mistaken. How can he…”

“It was obvious to me last week when he came home from your clinic. He practically floated in the door. He came up behind me, wrapped me in his arms and kissed my neck and face all over. I wondered what he was so happy about, and eventually he commented that you had returned to the clinic. He hadn’t told me much about you up to that point, so he finally spilled the details. As he talked, I could see it. I mean, I’d seen that look many times before as he looked at me. It was obvious.”

I shook my head. “Leah, you have to be mistaken. He hardly knows me. And he’s so obviously in love with you. There’s no way he can be in love with me.” She’s just thanked me for saving her husband and her marriage, and now she’s telling me her husband is in love with me. My head was spinning.

“I would have thought so, too, if I hadn’t seen it myself. It was there. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think he’s stopped loving me. I still feel that love. Yet, I think he’s opened his heart and discovered there is more room in there. I don’t think he realizes it yet, but he will soon.”

“OK. Let’s say just for a minute you are right. Why tell me? What can I do?”

Leah was hesitant before speaking, as if she was searching for her words. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she spoke. “Emily, I want you to make love to my husband.”

Now I felt like I’d been hit with a brick. Did she just ask what I think she did? I leaned back on the couch, stunned. She leaned forward.

“Emily, please. Hear me out before you say anything. This makes sense from my angle. I can’t fulfill my husband’s needs. He’ll never go find someone on his own, so I’m going to set it up for him, give him my permission. He loves you, which means he can’t use that excuse. He’s also very attracted to you, and rightly so.” Her eyes quickly scanned me up and down when she said that, and I blushed again. “I know we can make this work from our side. The one unknown is you. Will you be able to do this?” I started to decline, but she raised her hand. “Please, don’t answer right now. Take a few days. Call me if and when you are ready to talk. But please, seriously consider this for me. For us.”

I should have just rejected the whole notion, then and there. But something in the way she asked kept me from pushing it away. Her earnestness was enough to make me promise to truly mull it over. With that part of the discussion over, we sat awkwardly, nothing else to say. I made some excuse for having to leave, extended pleasantries, and made my escape. I refused to allow myself to think of the proposition until I was safely in my apartment, my door locked. I leaned against the door and sank to the floor. And cried.

I awoke several hours later. My head had cleared somewhat. I thought about Ben and Leah while I readied myself for bed. I needed to take stock of where I stood on this whole thing. Here was a woman giving me permission to sleep with her husband. She’d been sober—at least from what I could tell. She wasn’t asking me to carry on a lurid affair. Just sleep with him. Have sex with him. She didn’t say how many times. Just once? Twice? I got the impression that this could be a long term thing if everything fell the right way, and she would be OK with it. I didn’t think once would be so bad. I mean I’d had sex before, and sometimes with people I hardly cared for at all. Maybe that was what was scaring me. Leah had said Ben loved me. As hard as it was to believe, what if she was right? I mean, if we made love once and that was it, wouldn’t that cause more harm than good? I mean I didn’t love him, at least not that way.

Did I?

I thought about this man. I’d been enamored with him from the first meeting. He had an incredible personality, a great sense of humor, a gentleness and sweetness. He was funny, kind, confident. I felt all those things way back. I even thought he was attractive. He had great eyes, an adorable smile and just a generally attractive face. Physically, I wasn’t really, REALLY attracted to him, at least not at first. I mean, given time all his other qualities might have changed that, but I mean, who really falls for a 300-pound guy in 30 minutes? Wait, that seems shallow. Don’t answer that.

I slipped into bed in my panties and oversized t shirt as my mind drifted back to last week, when I first saw Ben in the office again. He was still a big guy, but it was a nice big. Broad shoulders that tapered down to his waist. I could see his muscles rippling beneath his shirt. His face had become more chiseled. And those big strong hands. What had I felt then? Picturing him in my mind made my heart beat harder. There was no doubt about it. With all those qualities he had, you know those qualities that were most important when you really love someone, he now also had sexy. This, as I saw it, was pretty important if your whole objective was just to sleep with a guy. I could definitely imagine looking up into those dark, chocolate eyes as he drove into me. My heart fluttered. I closed my eyes, and pictured his strong arms holding his weight off me, his hips moving. I felt the fluttering move down to my sex. God, I think I’m hot for this guy. I abandoned all decorum. I mean, I was in the safety of my own home, in my own bed, by myself. What harm could there be? I ran my fingers down between my breasts to my belly, uncovered my belly, and drew gentle circles around my navel. I began to picture it all in my mind. Feeling his strong hands over my small breasts, I imagined tracing my fingers across the muscles of his back and arms. He placed his mouth over my nipples, pushed his length into my pussy. I slipped my hand down inside the front of my panties and felt the wetness that had formed on my lips. I dipped my fingers in, soaking them before beginning to caress my clit. Images of our bodies merging flooded my brain and my pussy. I felt the familiar stirrings in my womb. I began to climb higher and higher, moving towards my peak. I bucked my hips and my caressing became frantic and sporadic. Suddenly I exploded, waves of orgasm crashing over me again and again. I rode the pleasure until my clit tried to escape my caresses, then I let my muscles relax. I inhaled deeply, trying to catch my breath.

Oh, my, I thought to myself. I must have been really horny. I took my hand from my underwear, pulled the covers up to my chin and rolled on my side. I needed to sleep. I obviously couldn’t think straight. I mean, I was actually seriously considering this.

The next day, I worked my ass off. I did anything I could to take my mind off the offer on the table. It didn’t work. What was I so afraid of? This was just sex. Let the man take care of his needs, get a little pleasure yourself, walk away. What was wrong with that? Because Leah doesn’t want you to walk away. And she doesn’t think Ben will want you to, either. Was I ready to commit to a relationship with a married man? Did I want to be with someone who loved another more than me? Leah wasn’t asking for a relationship, though, was she? Just sex.

That night was a repeat of the previous night. This time, I just climbed into bed with a t shirt, sans panties. I figured no reason to soak another pair. In my fantasy, this time I was on top, and Leah was watching us. I came so hard that my muscles ached. I made up my mind as I drifted off to sleep. I would do this. I guess I’d always known I would. I had reservations, of course, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I figured I might as well go for it. At worst case, I get to have sex, which is a good thing in my mind. At best case, I get to have sex more than once, which is even better.

I awoke the next day, a Saturday. I lay in my bed, unable to convince myself to move. I finally sat up and rubbed my eyes. The smell of my pussy was unmistakable, and the feeling of lust began to swell in me again. That was what I needed to spur me into action. I went to my dresser and flipped through my papers until I found the note with the Barkers’ number. I took a deep breath while I waited for someone to pick up.

“Hello. Barker’s residence.” It was Almarosa.

“May I speak with Leah, please? This is Emily.”

“Just a minute.” I waited nervously, twice thought about hanging up.

Leah’s voice came on the line. “Hi, Emily.”

Where to start? I just decided to blurt it out. “Let’s do this. Start talking before I chicken out.”

Leah began to cry. I could hear the sounds through the receiver. I wondered if I’d said the wrong thing. “Thank you, Emily,” she forced through her tears. “Thank you. I don’t know how I can ever repay you.” Finally, she composed herself enough to tell me her plan. Ben’s birthday was in a week. She wanted to give him a birthday present he’d never forget. Me. We talked about commitment, and she assured me that I was free to walk away from this at any time. We worked out the particulars and prepared to hang up.

“You sure you still want me to do this?” I asked.

“There’s no doubt in my mind,” she replied.

I waited for more, but nothing came. I laughed, trying to sound relaxed. “This is where you are supposed to ask me if I still want to do this.”

Her voice was calm, assured. “I don’t have to ask. I know you do.”

“How do you know?”

“Because you love Ben, too.” She hung up, leaving me speechless.

Romantic Sex Story: A Time to Love: Chapter 1 by Jonas
https://storiesonline.net/s/56972:78822/a-time-to-love-chapter-1