Tag Archives: love

My Nightmare, My Loopholes 1: by Alim, Barakat

Part One.

‘My friend, you seem very lucky ooo.’
‘You can say that again, Racheal.’
‘l really wasn’t expecting an iPhone though but I guessed it should be something big.’
‘Eeeh! I Blessing…an iPhone 11! I don become one of the biggest babe in town! Thanks to Mr Ade.’
‘Bleeeeesing, hnmmmm pelzzin husband, mama bisi’s husband. If mama Bisi catch you eheeeen, na pepper you go smell. But I dey happy for you sha. Me sef, I no dey do single guys again. Na married men like Mr Ade I want, in fact, person wey pass Mr Ade.’
‘Wetin? I just dey use Mr Ade catch cruise ni oooo, Yorrrubaaaaa, wetin I wan use a Yoruba man do. Na Emeka I go marry.


‘Mtcheeeew. Emeka kwa? That broke ass guy. Emeka wetin? Mtcheew, dat one. Well, na you sabi. As for me, na married man I go marry.’
‘Hnmmmm. What of that abroad guy wey dey disturb you? your pepperlino.
‘Who be your pepperlino? oh! You meant Andrew, that one? He too young for my type and besides were you deaf when I was yarning say na married man I fit marry. Na dem sabi, na dem fit take care of singles like us.’ She said pulling her blouse and swirling her head in circular motions.
‘But that guy na good catch ooo. I must tell you.’


‘Abeg! Mtcheeew, which good catch. I no fit abeg! He dey too young. Imagine, he is 21. He no fit take care of me. He even said he would be coming to Nigeria next tomorrow.’
‘Ehnnn, you no wan tell me before? But he looks matured in the picture you showed me. But e be things sha, coz picture dey decieve. E dey too young tho, ha! 21! E don pass you sef. Na no way true true.’
‘My dear, it is really no way. Na im face I just wan see. You no say na for social media we dey chat since a year now. Na only im face and the goody goody wey im promise me I dey excited to see.’
‘Everything don enter itself. In one word, you can’t wait to see him.’
‘Na you sabi!’ I said patting blessing playfully.
*


‘Ahnahn ahn! What is all these now? Mtcheeew. What is the meaning of all these?
‘I’m so sorry. I’m very sorry. It wasn’t deliberate. I’m so sorry.’
‘See the way you splashed water all over my body. You are telling me sorry. Will sorry clear this mess all over me? That’s the way you rich people do. Bloody oppressors!’
‘Hey, young lady! I dont want you to think that way. You are taking this too far. I said I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. It wasn’t intentional. You know what, let me give you a ride to your destination. I’m really sorry.’
‘Don’t bother!’ I said almost walking away.
‘Please. Dont decline. Please.’
‘Okay.’
‘Thanks. Where are you heading to?’
‘Dave’s street.’
‘Dave’s street? That’s my street. My name is Mr Juwon Davies.’
‘Oh! Really? Then you would be living very close to my place.’ I said smiling delightfully.
‘I live at no 6. What about you?’
‘No 15.’
‘So, what is the name of this beautiful angel?’
‘Racheal.’ I said unable to hide my excitement and sensual appeal.


‘Wow! What a nice name you’ve got.’
‘Thanks.’ I said widening my already invoked smile. I run my eyes all over him; from his few strands of slivering white hairs mixed with the black bush as if two different colours of nursery beds has been planted randomly. His well shaped hair cautiously brought down to his chin in a well constructed line by a learned barber whose handwriting must have been good during school days. His beards, in its appropriate length for his not too wide chin and circular face. The different strands of hair growing contrastively in colour, (black and white) as if they had been matchmaked. His dreamy eyes. His narrowed bone nose down to his flat and smallish nose. Beside his nose, on his right cheek stood a big black dot that is darker than his ebonized skin. His ear, the perfect size for the completely handsome face. His circular head pressing on his well-wedged neck, that anytime he is not looking at the side mirror of the car, observing passing cars, two pounds of flesh are formed while sitting comfortably. His well built muscular shoulder down to his arms sent a cold shiver down my spine. A big gold necklace stood around his neck like a choker, the pendant lying between his broad chest.


‘We are close to my residence, would you like to clean up? Helloooooo Rachel. Dear, anything the problem?’
‘Yessss sir, yeess.’ I answered muttering after a slight tap.
‘What is it? would you like to clean up at my residence?’
‘Sorry sir. I was far away in my thoughts. No problem sir.’
‘Oh ! I hope no problem?’
‘Not at all sir.’ I said hastily, quite uncomfortable with the discussion. I quickly threw my head to the other side surveying motors and people. He finally halted and horned at a big blue gate. He glanced at me to be sure I did not disapprove. I wore a neutral face like I wasn’t aware. A dwarfish middle-aged man flung the gate open hastily. He drove in and the man greeted him, postrating . He nodded slighty. I looked away complacently to avoid the man’s peering eyes.
‘You can come down from the car.’ I came down from the car, with him holding the doors and locking the car. I was quite ashamed of my stained dress.
‘Follow me.’ He said, gesturing politely. I followed him walking like an accused headed for a trial. I trudged behind him quietly and slowly.


‘Knock knock knock.’
‘Yes, who is at the door?’
‘Blessing. ‘
‘Come in jor ,you still dey knock?’
‘Where you waka go yesterday? House you no dey. Shop you no dey. Where you go?
‘I was called for an home service in the next street.’
‘Oh ! No wonder.’
‘Sit sit sit, make I gist you.’ I said excitingly almost interrupting.
‘Yarn me , make I hear.
‘I don see the sugar daddy wey I dey yearn for. Infact, matter don settle.’
‘Hmmm, tell me more my sister.’
‘His name na Mr Juwon Davies, na im own the street wey you and I dey live.’
‘Ogene ooo, Chineke ! Eh! My dear yarn me more, my ears are itching.
‘The most fortunate thing about his encounter is that……

Mimetic Approach to Analysing “Love’s Deity” (A purely thematic approach)

UDE, Chiedozie Orji.

Department of English, University of Lagos.


The poem “Love’s Deity’ is, indeed, another work of literature which possesses a huge degree of mimeticism. This implies that this poem is one which projects several key issues that are peculiar to everyday life. These issues, no doubt, make the poem one that can be defined based on the extent to which it imitates life.
The poem captures the plight of the persona who finds himself in an uncomfortable situation of unrequited love — that is, he is in love with a girl who does not share his feelings and affections. Through this knowledge, it comes as no surprise that the persona either knowingly or unknowingly raises several issues which serve to explain not just his predicament, but also, the predicament of others who find themselves in love. Therefore, it can be said that the poem “Love’s Deity” captures themes which include: the theme of love; the theme of fate; the theme of defiance; the theme of callousness of the gods; and the theme of man’s belief in the supernatural amongst others.


The theme of love is obviously central to this poem. This is because it is the very reason for the persona’s struggle. He, the persona, just like many others, finds himself in a situation whereby his love is not being reciprocated by the object of his affection. The subject of love is a universal concept which has always complicated matters or made people happy. Hence, it can be said without any form of doubt that the theme of love, as projected by the persona, reflects the society.


Another theme which helps to project reality is the theme of fate. This theme is captured through the persona’s insistence that he has been given a part to follow by the childish god of love; hence, he has no choice but to follow this part — that is, the part of loving someone who will never love him. This theme, also, is in tandem with the classical notion of unavoidable destiny; little wonder the persona accepts his fate by constantly stating in the refrain that he loves a person who will never love him. This theme, definitely, projects realism through the insight provided on the persona’s condition and of course, through the similarities it shares with the classical notion of unchangeable destiny.


Closely related to the theme of fate is the theme of man’s belief in the supernatural. Man, as an individual, is one who believes in the existence of superior beings such as gods, demons and angels etc. It is, therefore, because of man’s belief in these elements and in the power they possess over man that makes man to always acknowledge them through praises when things are going well, and of course, blame them when things are not going well. This theme is well captured in the poem in that the persona believes that the god of love is the cause of his predicament, even without any clear evidence. The persona does not believe the fault may be from him, probably in terms of affluence or physical attractiveness; hence, he seems it worthy to blame not only the god of love but also, the gods who created the god of love. The presence of these supernatural beings is also exposed in the third stanza where the persona suggests that if the god of love is allowed to continue acting with impunity, other gods will likely follow suit, and by so doing, these gods will challenge Jove’s supremacy.


Of course, another theme which depicts realism is the theme of man’s defiance towards elements of the supernatural. The persona describes himself as a rebel and atheist. These words imply that he does not have much regard for religion and the gods, and he acts out these descriptions by insultingly calling the god of love a child. He continues to show his defiance towards authority by suggesting that the gods who created the god of love did not mean much. This suggestion implies that the gods are incapable and restricted when it comes to handling critical affairs. Finally, the persona brands the god of love as irresponsible. This, unequivocally, speaks of the persona’s blatant disregard for superior authority. Obviously, this theme is a universal concept because many a man, from time immemorial, has always been blasphemous towards the supernatural beings.


In conclusion, this essay has discussed the poem “Love’s Deity” based on the extent to which it imitates life. Several themes were raised and succinctly discussed with a view to proving that John Donne’s “Love’s Deity” is a poem that has a lot of verisimilitude with life.

Sonder

Chidinma Igweonu

It’s funny how time still passes when something horrible is happening. It’s even funnier how people continue living their lives oblivious to the fact that someone somewhere is going through a lot of pain. This has made me to wish that could pause sometimes. People should stop sometimes and really look because there is a lot to see.
It was a lazy afternoon. All afternoons were lazy these days. My mom and I were chatting in the veranda. She had just asked me if she was getting old. I had laughed silently because I knew it was a trap. If I said yes, she would tease me and if I said no, she would scold me for lying. I wondered why she had even asked me in the first place when she already knew the answer. I was indecisive. I was still thinking about what to say when I heard his scream. A high-pitched one that could have broken the glasses around if we were in Hollywood.

He was in the next compound, the compound that belongs to mechanics. I think his name was Ezekiel. He would always smile politely at me when I greeted but would say nothing for it seemed like he was a man of few words. His shirt was on FIRE! He was on FIRE! I watched as the bright orange flames leaped up his body like acrobats at their very best. I watched as they licked at his skin with insatiable hunger. People were screaming but Ezekiel was still the lead screamer. I was petrified. I think I was screaming too but I couldn’t hear my own voice. My throat was dry. My head felt heavy. My body was hot. People were pouring water on him till the fire died. In its wake were red angry burns to avenge its death

Time hadn’t stilled or frozen; not even for a second. I walked back aimlessly into my house. I saw my baby brother lying on the sofa. He had slept through it all. He wore a peaceful smile on his face. In that moment, I understood that that was just how life was. People went about their own lives wearing peaceful smiles on their faces unaware of what others were going through. This oblivion is inevitable and it doesn’t make us cruel. It makes us human.

UDE, Chiedozie: Pragmatic Analysis of Chibok Girls. GBAMLOG.COM

Literature is so significant that it can perform a lot of functions. One of such functions definitely has to be the affective function. Literature can be affective when it aims to produce certain effects on the reader. Having established this fact, it is ideal to state that this essay aims to display the affective power of literature by conducting a pragmatic analysis of the text Chibok Girls.

The text in question has its characters and setting drawn from real life; hence, it can be described as a realistic text. It contains the investigations carried out by Helon Habila in the North-Eastern part of Nigeria. The investigation revolves around the history and causes of insecurity in Nigeria. Because of the presence of the writer at strategic places that have been affected by violence instigated by the dreaded sect, Boko Haram, this text can be described as one which contains first-hand information on the prevalent issues plaguing the country.

The title of the text is significant because it captures the most notable and internationally-recognised crime perpetuated by Boko Haram — that is, the abduction of 276 school girls on the 24th April, 2014, by Boko Haram. This title, however, does not constitute the focal point of this report. Rather, it serves as an instance which illustrates the ruthlessness of the Boko Haram sect.

Insecurity, as highlighted in the text, is as a result of activities such as terrorism, bad governance, corruption, religious-instigated violence etc. All these issues no doubt are bound to have certain didactic or other forms of effects on the reader. Some of these effects include: pity, fear, anger, apathy, and the didactic lesson of early prevention.

Pity is one of the major effects this text has on the reader. This is plausible because ruthless and despicable acts of Boko Haram on harmless civilians will without doubt draw out the pity of the audience. A good example is how the mother of Riskatu, one of the abducted girls, is made to narrate the painful events of the day her daughter was kidnapped. This instance, surely, is significant because it captures the pain and suffering which the parents and the relations of the abducted girls are going through because of their ignorance on the status of their daughters — that is, are they alive or are they dead? Another object of the reader’s pity has to be the abducted girls who will now serve as wives and concubines of terrorists instead of being with their families and completing their education. Unarguably, the pragmatic effect of pity is brought to the fore through the theme of terrorism.

Another pragmatic effect the text will likely have on the audience is that of fear. Human beings are creatures who fear a lot of things, ranging from known and unknown dangers. In the case of this text, the reader’s fear is justified because of several reasons. One of these reasons has to be the reader’s in-depth knowledge of the activities of this sect, and another reason for the reader’s fear, obviously, is the fact that the reader is a Nigerian; hence, he is not completely safe from the violence caused by the nonchalance of the government towards small and large-scale criminal activities and, of course, violence instigated by religious extremism as seen in the way Yusuf, the elder brother of Shekau, was able to spur his followers to commit several atrocities, and also, through the Maitatsine Uprising, as described by Helon Habila in the text. Hence, one can be certain to say that the themes of violence, terrorism, religious extremism etc., are sure to instigate the feeling of great fear in the reader.

When talking about the pragmatic effect this text has on the reader, one is sure to mention anger. The reader is surely going to experience anger at the government because of their nonchalant attitude towards fighting crime and safeguarding the lives and property of Nigerians. This attitude is captured by Habila in the way he narrates the transition of different government and the way they have all handled insecurity with levity. The focus, however, centres on Jonathan’s regime as president because it was during his tenure that the Boko Haram sect committed their most notable atrocity — that is, the abduction of the school girls from Chibok. The security agencies are also not innocent. Habila, through his report, captures instances where soldiers decided to collect bribes instead of arresting offenders. Surely, the callousness of the government officials and military personnel will surely emit the anger of the reader.

Furthermore on the pragmatic effect this novel has on the reader is that of apathy. Apathy in this sense means disinterest. This disinterest encompasses both religious and political participation. Because of the extreme way in which the insurgents attacked churches, many Christians, especially those living in areas in the North, will, of course, find it difficult to feel safe during church service; hence, they will end up avoiding service to God. An example of Boko Haram’s ruthless way of dealing with Christians is captured by Reverend Madu’s story on how his church was attacked. Muslims themselves are not exempted from religious apathy. Habila reports stories of clerics who were killed because they spoke against the tenets of Boko Haram. All these acts of violence against religious institutions will surely make the readers feel discouraged about religion.

Still on apathy as a pragmatic effect, one can, of course, not gainsay the fact that the activities of Boko Haram has caused a lot of people to become apathetic towards politics. This is evident in that there has been no elections in Chibok for years because of the fears of an attack by the terrorists. This political apathy will surely manifest itself in the reader because they will, without doubt, contemplate their safety during elections, and this will ultimately make them sit at home instead of voting. Another cause of political apathy definitely has to be the Nigerian irresponsible government. Helon Habila does not mince words as he reports how the government both at federal and state level have played huge roles in the current malaise of insecurity plaguing the country. Knowledge of this irresponsibility on the part of the government is likely to make the reader brand everyone in politics as birds of a feather; hence, the reader will surely show nonchalance towards politics.

Finally, the didactic lesson that can be learnt from Habila’s report is that early action by the government towards the prevention of crime is the solution to insecurity in the country. Habila draws attention to this by constantly reporting or emphasising how the various governments in Nigeria have ignored the signs of an uprising until it became out of hand as seen in the Maitatsine Uprising and Boko Haram Insurgency. Because history is deemed as a great teacher, it is expected that Nigerians (both the government and the readers) should learn from past mistakes in order to avoid repeating these errors.

In conclusion, the text Chibok Girls is one which captures the realities of people living in Nigeria. It is set in Nigeria; therefore, it may be regarded as one which will have lots of pragmatic effects on Nigerian readers. Some of these effects have been discussed in this essay; thus, proving that the text Chibok Girls is one which can be defined based on its affective powers on the reader.

Ude, Chiedozie Orji.

CALL FOR VOLUNTEERS!!!

Dear Esteemed Readers,
LITC — LOVE IS THE CURE — is hosting its second charity outreach on the 27th of December, 2019. So, you all are cordially invited to take part in it. Assist us in any way you can. We receive donations in form of cash, clothes, food items and toys. Join us today, as we spread the love during this period.

For more information on this, text or call the following numbers:
1. Chiedozie Ude *09090953414*
2. Chidinma Okonkwo *08180073734*
3. Afolabi Shobowale *08183848314*
4. Ekene Muolokwu *08127866274*
5. Andre Orji *08105463252*
6. Tochukwu Okoronkwo *08145697832*

PERFECT SEDUCTION: HOW I SEDUCE MY ENGLISH TEACHER.| GBAMLOG.COM

I Seduced My High School English Teacher, It Was Totally Worth It

“Blood, sex, and death.” Those were the three things Mr. Fitzpatrick taught us were part of every gothic horror novel. He was the high school english teacher I hopelessly crushed on, and I couldn’t help but notice that his eyes lingered on me when he said the second word. Sex.

I was a senior then, about to graduate. Glued to my seat even in the late, late spring when my classmates were terminally zoned out, focused on graduation, the summer ahead of them, college. But I still had unfinished business here, and today he was wearing a black tie over a light blue button-up and jeans that were just snug enough to drive my imagination wild. When he perched on the edge of his desk reading from The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, I let my eyes wander up and down his body, imaging a new use for each part.

He was the new cute teacher this year, the one the girls whispered about between classes. Mr. Fitzpatrick is looking good today.I’d tried to pretend I wasn’t one of them before, it’s not interesting to have the same crush as everyone else. But his charm was undeniable, who else could make the classics so sexy? Every day when he taught his inflection would bounce up and down with passion as he taught us about Bram Stoker and Shirley Jackson.

When he taught Dracula he became brooding and obsessive, delving into each character. Even in the clinical, fluorescent-lit classroom it was sexual. I spend the 50 minute class period imagining his lips — his teeth — on my neck, finding me in secret, lusting after my “life force” as Stoker says. The week he spent on, The Haunting of Hill House, was one of the most oddly erotic of my life. The text was thrilling, I was in a constant state of suspense and I held myself to not reading ahead, and being completely present in class when he talked about the role adrenaline plays in our bodies physiological state as we read. I didn’t ask, but I was sure my increased interest in him was one of those byproducts he was talking about.

When graduation was only a few weeks away, I felt bolder. Surely I should make a move, if the consequences of being rebuffed were so low? What could they do? I was almost gone. And so I became consumed with the idea of hooking up with Mr. Fitzpatrick.

At first, I thought I could be subtle. Mr. Fitzpatrick certainly noticed when I wore something low-cut or a little more form-fitting. Once I entered his classroom in a dress that particularly accentuated my curves and I could have sworn I heard him groan. But understandably, he never did anything more than cast a lingering glance my way.

He’d get in too much trouble, I reasoned. I’m going to have to be the one to do something. So I put my mind into creating the perfect plan: I’d just have to present him with an opportunity he couldn’t say no to.

The senior end-of-year dance was coming up, and I inserted myself into the planning committee long enough to serve as an official liaison and ask Mr. Fitzpatrick if he would be a chaperone, apparently we were in desperate need of one (I didn’t ask anyone else). A light flickered in his eyes as I carefully enunciated the word desperate. Hopefully that was a look of comprehending my agenda. He agreed to the task.

I bought new lingerie, black and red and lacy. I wore it under a loose-fitting white sundress, pure and virginal like a gothic heroine, but dark and carnal underneath.

At the dance, I added a note to the clipboard waiting for him as a chaperone. It was the regular list of rules to enforce and emergency contacts. My note was underneath, it was a line from Draculaalong with his room number:

“No man knows till he experiences it, what it is like to feel his own life-blood drawn away into the woman he loves.” CLC 345.

I never went to the dance. Instead I made my way through the dark and empty corridors of the school until I let myself into his classroom. I brought with me one candle to break up the darkness without relying on the fluorescents. Lighting it and setting it on a desk in the front row I climbed into Mr. Fitzpatrick’s seat behind his desk, pulled the straps of my dress down so the top of my lacy bra was revealed, and crossed my legs with my heels resting on the edge of his desk, waiting.

It was a long wait. He didn’t find my note right away, but it became pleasurably agonizing, every tiny sound I heard in the hallway seemed like it could be him approaching. I got excited and then mellowed again when I realized it was my imagination. When he did come, I didn’t even hear him approach.

“Adrienne.”

It was a guess he made as he entered the classroom, it was too dim to see my face but I had made sure the glow illuminated my nearly bare legs. I was glad he was expecting it to be me.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick.” I acknowledged him and removed my legs from his desk, slowly crossing them in front of me.

“This note… what are you doing here? We shouldn’t be here.”

He was saying the words, but even to someone who wasn’t engaging in wishful thinking they sounded unconvincing. He didn’t want them to be true. I stood up and leaned against the edge of his desk, facing him, opening my legs a bit so he could imagine himself between them.

“Mr. Fitzpatrick, I’m sorry if you’re misunderstanding. I just wanted to discussDracula more.”

He moved closer, grinning.

When he was close enough that I could touch him, I grabbed his tie and pulled his body into mine. I could feel he was already hard as he pressed against the loose fabric separating us. The situation excited him as much as it excited me. “You’ve always been my favorite student, Adrienne, but I could get in a lot of trouble for being here right now.”

Pulling harder on his tie, my mouth found his neck. “I’ll just have to make it worth your while then.”

He groaned and his hands found the undersides of my thighs, pulling me closer to him and moving us both back so I was resting on his desk. I slide back farther and wrapped my legs around him.

“I just wanted to experience this before graduation,” I told him, “I’ve been trying not to make a move all year.”

Even in the low light, I could see the smile that spread across his face. He says he loves the way I look lying on his desk. I respond by feeling the bulge in his pants, attempting to grip him through the fabric and feeling him grow.

“We need to make this quick. They’ll look for me if I don’t come back.”

“Perfect.” With the suspense building as long as it had, I wouldn’t last long in his arms anyway.

I heard him unbuckle his belt and unzip his pants but I didn’t look away from his face. Even in the dark he looked handsome, brooding. I wanted him to tell me more about sex and blood and death but I also just wanted to experience it with him — all the parts of being human, all the things worth writing about.

I was happy there, to be a willing participant in a fantasy I was sure he had. Happy when he slid the lace panties I’d brought for the occasion off, happy when he didn’t bother to remove my bra but instead pulled my breasts free from it, and especially happy when his body met mine.

While forging a path with his mouth from my neck, down to my collarbone, and then landing on my breasts he pulled me closer to him and entered me. The speed with which he poured himself into me belied his eagerness. I knew he wanted me as much as I wanted him to. As much as I’d fantasized about him wanting me.

Lowering himself so his face was next to mine he whispered, “Adrienne, if you want to be a great student you’re going to have to finish me off with your mouth.”

Kneeling before him I skipped the niceties and began blowing him full on right away, working my hand around his shaft in tandem with my mouth. His hands worked their way through my hair, separating it into two ponytails he held firmly as he used them to guide my head onto his cock, increasing in rhythm until I felt him tense up, his hands clenching my hair. Pulling my head down on him, he held me there and emptied himself into the back of my mouth. I could taste the saltiness as I removed myself from him, licking my lips.

It was the perfect end to my senior

year.

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I Seduced My High School English Teacher, It Was Totally Worth It | GBAMLOG

I WISH TO LOVE YOU LONGER | GBAMLOG 

I WISH TO LOVE YOU LONGER

*phone call *
Boy: Hey, hun!
Girl: Hey.
Boy: I missed you at school today. Why weren’t you there?
Girl: Yeah, I had to go to the doctor.
Boy: Oh really? Why?
Girl: Oh, nothing. Just some annual shots, that’s all.
Boy: Oh.
Girl: So what did you guys do in Math today?
Boy: You didn’t miss anything that great, just a lot of notes.
Girl: Okay, good.
Boy: Yeah.
Girl: Hey, I have a question to ask.
Boy: Okay, ask away.
Girl: How much do you love me?
Boy: You know I love you more than anything in this world.
Girl: Yeah.
Boy: Why did you ask?
Girl: *silence*
Boy: Is something wrong?
Girl: No. Nothing at all. Um. How much do you care about me?
Boy: I would give you the world in a heartbeat if I could.
Girl: You would?
Boy: Yeah of course I would. *sounding worried* Is there something wrong?
Girl: No, everything’s fine.
Boy: Are you sure?
Girl: Yeah
Boy: Okay. I hope so.
Girl: Would you die for me?
Boy: I would take a bullet for you any day, hun.
Girl: Really?
Boy: Any day. Now, seriously, is there something wrong?
Girl: No, I’m fine. You’re fine. We’re fine. Everyone and everything is fine.
Boy: Okay.
Girl: Well, I have to go. I’ll see you tomorrow at school.
Boy: Alright, bye. I love you!
Girl: Yeah. I love you too. Bye.
THE NEXT DAY AT SCHOOL
Boy: Hey, have you seen my girlfriend today?
Friend: No.
Boy: Oh.
Friend: She wasn’t here yesterday, either.
Boy: I know. She was acting all weird on the phone last night.
Friend: Well, dude, you know how girls are sometimes.
Boy: Yeah, but not her.
Friend: I don’t know what else to say, man.
Boy: Okay, well I gotta get to English. I’ll see ya after school.
Friend: Yeah I gotta get to Science. Later.
THAT NIGHT
Girl: Hello?
Boy: Hey.
Girl: Oh, hey.
Boy: Why weren’t you at school today?
Girl: Uh, I had another appointment with the doctor.
Boy: Are you sick?
Girl: Um, I have to go. My mom’s calling on the other line.
Boy: I’ll wait.
Girl: It may take a while. I’ll call you later.
Boy: Alright. I love you.
-very long pause-
Girl: *with a tears in her eyes* Look, I think we should break up.
Boy: What?!
Girl: It’s the best thing for us right now.
Boy: Why?
Girl: I love you.
THE GIRL DOESN’T COME TO SCHOOL FOR 3 MORE WEEKS AND DOESNT ANSWER HER PHONE
Boy: Hey dude.
Friend: Hey.
Boy: What’s up?
Friend: Nothing. Hey, have you talked to your ex lately?
Boy: No.
Friend: So you didn’t hear?
Boy: Hear what?
Friend: Um, I don’t know if I should be the one to tell you…
Boy: Dude, just tell me!
Friend: Uh. Call this number, 433-555-3468.
Boy: Okay, thanks!
BOY CALLS THE NUMBER AFTER SCHOOL
Voice: Hello, Suppam County Hospital. This is Nurse Victoria.
Boy: Uh, I must have the wrong number. I’m looking for my friend.
Voice: What is their name, sir?
*boy gives info*
Voice: Yes, this is the right number. She’s one of our patients here.
Boy: Really? Why? What happened? How is she?
Voice: Her room number is 646 in building A, suite 3.
Boy: WHAT HAPPENED?!
Voice: Please come by, sir, and you can see her. Goodbye.
Boy: WAIT! NO!
THE BOY GOES TO HOSPITAL, AND TO ROOM 646, BUILDING A, SUITE 3. THE GIRL IS LYING IN THE HOSPITAL BED.
Boy: Oh my God, are you okay?
Girl: *silence*
Boy: Dear, talk to me!
Girl: I..
Boy: You what?
Girl: I have cancer and I’m on life support.
Boy: *breaks into tears*
Girl: They’re taking me off tonight.
Boy: Why?
Girl: I wanted to tell you, but I couldn’t .
Boy: Why didn’t you tell me?
Girl: I didn’t want to hurt you.
Boy: You could never hurt me.
Girl: I just wanted to see if you felt about me the same as I felt about you.
Boy: Huh?
Girl: I love you more than anything. I would give you the world in a heartbeat. I would die for you and take a bullet for you.
Boy: *crying*
Girl: Don’t be sad. I love you and I’ll always be there with you.
Boy: Then why did you break up with me?
Nurse: Young man, visiting hours are over.
The boy leaves and later that night the girl is taken off of life support and dies, but what the boy didn’t know is that the girl only asked him those questions so she could hear him say it one last time. She only broke up with him because she knew she only had 3 more weeks left to live and thought that it would cause him less pain and give him time to get over her before she died.
NEXT DAY
The boy is found dead with a gun in one hand and a note in the other.
THE NOTE SAID:
“I told her that I would take a bullet for her, just like she said she would die for me.”

SECRET SHARED : ROMANCE WITH MY PILOT

By L.M Adeline

We made it down the short aisle. Standing in front of the cockpit door, she gave three quick knocks. A second later, a sandy-haired young man with thick glasses and a space between his front teeth poked his head out.

Oh dear

. I hated to admit that my shallow Southern heart sank, though I politely pulled my grin a little wider, reminding myself what the

C

in S.E.C.R.E.T. stood for. If my fantasy man wasn’t…

compelling

, I didn’t have to go through with the fantasy.

“Is this our lovely visitor?” he asked with a lisp.

Oh dear

.

“Yes,” the flight attendant said. “Miss Dauphine Mason, this is our multitalented First Officer Friar. Miss Mason is keen to see what goes on in here. It might help her with her fear of flying.”

“Ah, yes. Dispel the mystery and the fear disperses. That’s Captain Nathan’s specialty. He can show you around while I stretch my legs. Three’s a crowd in here! Good luck!”

After mangling all those S’s, First Officer Friar made a beeline to the back of the plane. Out the window in front was a dark sky; below, nothing but black water. The high whine of the engines masked the screams in my own head as my legs now turned to cement. Eileen nudged me through the narrow doorway.

“I’ll be back in a little while,” she said, looking at her watch. “Enjoy your flying lesson.” She shut the door behind her.

The pilot sat silhouetted in the window. The only thing I could see above the seat was the back of his head. He wasn’t wearing a jacket, only his white shirt, the muscles on his arms apparent beneath his sleeves as he flicked a number of switches from left to right on a panel in front of him. Thankfully, the white noise drowned out my pounding heart.

“Be with you in a moment, Dauphine. I just want to make sure autopilot’s running smoothly. A robot takes over for most of the flight from now on. A very smart one.” There it was. That accent again. The man from Security! The man with the sexy British accent! The air left my chest and the pressure squeezed my lungs. Feeling tantalized and terrified at that same time had a bad effect on my stomach. I slapped both hands on the curved walls of the cockpit to steady myself as the plane rose and straightened. The pilot faced a wall of lights and levers that seemed to blink and shift on their own. Then he finally turned his chair around, aviators off, brown eyes on me. I gasped. “Don’t worry, we’re on automatic, but we’re not going to be alone in here for long, so I apologize ahead of time for the furtive nature of our interlude,” he said, loosening the top button of his uniform. “But I need to know, before we continue with our tutorial on the safety of flight: Do you accept the Step, Miss Mason?”

I couldn’t believe this was happening. “Here? Now?”

“Yes. Here and now. Trust me when I say I can help you with your fear of flying. And a few other things too, I suspect,” he said, leaning back into the plush leather of his pilot seat, taking me in from bottom to top.

“I’ve never been in an airplane before,” I muttered, stalling.

“I understand that,” he said, steepling his fingers. “But you are doing a fine job of your first time.”

Standing four feet from a complicated instrument panel that the pilot was

no longer

facing, I watched dark clouds whip by the nose of the plane through the high, narrow windows.

“Are we…safe in here?”

“Very safe,” he said. “Safer than driving. Safer than almost any other activity you can do at hundreds of miles an hour, high in the air.”

“What if there’s turbulence?” I asked, just as we hit a little bump. I yelped. My arms flew up to grasp the ceiling.

He took it as a cue to gesture me over to him.

Here we go

! I slowly, carefully, closed the gap between us, and over his shoulder got a better view of the world before me. It was dusk, but light poked through the clouds, illuminating little towns and villages nestled in the foot of a mountain range. They looked like a strand of jewels dropped from a great height. It was beautiful, but still I felt gut- punched and queasy. Levers and buttons continued to move in a ghostly way all around us.

“Turbulence is just air pockets. The plane will ride through it. And I’m right here if anything goes awry.”

I stood above him now, his head level with my breasts. “Do you accept the Step?” Handsome face, kind eyes, great smell, manly hands, but the clincher truly was his beautifully tailored shirt. Terribly shallow, I know.

“Yes, I accept.”

“Then may I help you off with your knickers?”

I almost laughed out loud at the old-fashioned British word for panties. I was wearing a pencil skirt and pumps, and a button-up pink angora sweater. The low ponytail completed my ’50s-housewife-on-an-errand look. It couldn’t be helped; planning my outfits always calmed me, and today I needed to be calm.

“Tell me more about how safe I am,” I begged, as his warm hands gently undid the back of my skirt, letting it drop to the floor.

“Well, Dauphine,” he said, inching my panties, or “knickers,” down, “takeoff is the hardest part. So much can go wrong. But we’re well past that now.”

Standing before him, I closed my eyes. I could feel his fingers unbuttoning my sweater, easing it off my shoulders.

Ohh

.

“Now the middle part of flight,” he said, leaning forward to nuzzle my soft line of pubic hair, kissing it. “That’s the easiest…sweetest part of the ride. But still, you never want to get complacent. Sometimes it’s deceptively easy. You still need to be careful, to watch for subtle signals.”

I stood over him, my legs trembling. He reached back to undo my pink satin bra, slid it forward, and dropped it. Standing there naked, for a second

I forgot the plane was flying on its own

! It was black through the window. I wasn’t sure if we were flying over mountains or water, but I closed my eyes. If I couldn’t see it, it didn’t matter. I placed my hands on the ceiling again, pressing my body forward into him. He was so at ease, so in command as he gently urged my legs farther apart, reaching up to pinch and circle my nipples, like I was an instrument panel he knew exactly how to operate.

“How does the autopilot know what it’s doing?” I asked, so deeply aroused by his thumbs now expertly parting my cleft, I thought my knees would give.

“It listens to me. I tell it what to do and it follows my instructions,” he said, leaning forward to kiss my clitoris, now centered between his thumbs.

“Mmm, you taste so good, my darling,” he murmured, his fingers now joining his mouth, slowly gliding in and out, agonizing me. I felt every knuckle against my most tender parts, prodding my clitoris forward, as his mouth fully encircled me. I grabbed his head as it moved beneath me. Then I felt that rush, fast and hot, and the mounting energy as his urgent tongue fluttered and flicked, his fingers darting in and out. All I could do was shut my eyes and arch back, dying and shuddering as I exploded with a new kind of pleasure, moaning into the ceiling, his tongue lapping relentlessly at me, my hand over my mouth to muffle my cries.

TALES OF OUR FIRST ANNIVERSARY 

By KrisEdu

When we put the top of our wedding cake in the freezer (to be enjoyed at our first anniversary) we had a vague idea of what married life would be like. We had no idea that our first anniversary would see me with serious health concerns, pregnant, and my husband without a job. The celebration of that day made us truly appreciate each other and our marriage.

Because of our strict budget, I had planned to spend our anniversary at home. I was going to surprise my husband with a romantic dinner and then we would going to watch our wedding video while we ate the top of our wedding cake. Determined to find the perfect gift, I hopped on to eBay to see what I could find. I quickly discovered that the traditional first anniversary gift is paper, and as it happened, Metallica (both mine and my husband’s favorite rock band) was going to be playing two days after our anniversary in a city nearby. I jumped into bidding for the tickets with extra money from a side bartending job in hand. The bidding stopped about $20 short of my budget. I had found my “paper” gift – Metallica tickets. It looked like my plans were going to come off perfectly…boy, was I wrong!

I was disappointed when I took the cake out of the freezer only to find it had mold spots growing on it (I didn’t know we were supposed to wrap it in plastic wrap AND put it in a Tupperware container!). I began to get anxious when we couldn’t find our wedding videos anywhere. I really started panicking when the paper coupon book I had made to go with the tickets got destroyed by the dog. When I found out I had to have a rather major medical procedure the day after our anniversary and wouldn’t be able to attend the concert with my husband, I began to suspect a conspiracy.

I took the spare $20 and a picture of our wedding cake to a talented friend of mine, and she agreed to recreate the top for me. The evening of our anniversary, everything went off without a hitch. The romantic, candlelit dinner was superb. The wedding cake top was so perfect, my husband didn’t even suspect that it wasn’t the original. I had even managed to track down our wedding video, and my Mom sent it to me with 2 days to spare. When the time for gift giving came, I pulled out my envelope and handed it to my husband. When he opened the card and the tickets fell out, the look on his face was worth all the effort I had gone through. I explained that I had gotten the tickets before my medical procedure was planned so I couldn’t go. I told him I had spoken with his best friend who had agreed to take him.

His mouth just hung open – gaping like a fish. I began to worry that maybe he didn’t like the gift as much as I had thought. After what seemed like an interminable period of silence I finally asked, “Don’t you want to go?” He suddenly looked at me and grinned. He handed me my present saying, “I guess all the struggles this year have brought us closer than we thought … We really do know each other well.” Curious, I opened the envelope he had handed me. When I opened the card, two tickets fell out. With some extra money he had scrounged up, he bought me tickets to see Metallica as well. Because of his procrastination, he had waited to get the tickets until after my medical procedure had been planned. His tickets were a week away near where we had family we could stay with.

When people ask me the most romantic thing my husband has ever done, I usually shock them by saying something about a Metallica concert. Until I relate the whole story, they don’t understand that our first anniversary truly demonstrated the love we had for one another.

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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