Tag Archives: love

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.


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.


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*


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.


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



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



*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.
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.
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.
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!
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.
Voice: Please come by, sir, and you can see her. Goodbye.
Boy: WAIT! NO!
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.
The boy is found dead with a gun in one hand and a note in the other.
“I told her that I would take a bullet for her, just like she said she would die for me.”


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


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


, 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.



“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.


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.


Miracle by Chance

by Jeannette Gardner

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.


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.


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?”


“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

The End

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.


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,


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