In my mind

I write frantically, looking for the right words. And write and write, words spilling from me perversely. I want words that will make you love me, not the way that you do love me, but the way that I need you to love me. I write to discover myself and lose myself.

I saw you yesterday. I saw you and could barely bring myself to look at you while at the same time wanting to drink you in. In my mind we were alone. In my mind we stood barely apart, our eyes downcast. In my mind our hands were clasped, both hands in each others, my head buried in your shoulder as I try to breathe myself into you, to become part of you. I can hear your breath, feel it on me. I release my hands from yours and place them on your chest. I let them trail down your torso, my finger tips pressed into your form as if trying to read braille, seeking meaning in your shape. I stop at your waist and slip my hands into the small of your back, leaving one there as the other runs the length of your back to your neck. In my mind my hand follows the curve of your neck and around to your jawline. It traces the stubble, the angles, the dimples, the curve of your beautiful lips. I angle my face up to yours, our eyes meeting. Our lips touch, brush against each others, parted slightly, making way for tongues. I am reserved. I hold back. In my mind I do not kiss you ardently. I am lead by you. I allow myself to be. I let your tongue probe mine, let it tease mine, let myself melt into you. In my mind I begin to undress you, button by button. I undo you, planting delicate kisses on each piece of flesh I unveil until you are standing naked before me, your clothes in an abandoned mess next to me. In my mind I do this all to you.

In my mind I am now on my knees. I run my hands up your thighs, appreciating their tautness, letting my hands move closer and closer to the object I desire. My mouth closes in on you, on your groin, in little bites and flicks of my tongue. My hands are ready, my mouth is ready to consume you. I take you slowly, lazily into my mouth. I circle you with my tongue, let my lips slide over you, down your shaft and back up. My hands grip, caress, squeeze. You're in my mouth, you groan and hold my head so gently as if to will me there not by force but by some ancient longing. I slide you in and out of my mouth, my tongue on you, my lips gripping you. I feel like I could consume you, keep you there hard and twitching inside my mouth. So I remain on you, loving you, sucking you, riding you with my mouth until you release yourself, my eyes wide, yours closed as you lose yourself in that moment. And I, I have found myself, just then, just there, with you.

Gamer Girl

She was a rare breed. A girl who loved gaming. She owned every console known to mankind, but her favourite was her Xbox. She loved combat games - Red Dead Redemption, Call of Duty. Playing those games satisfied a certain bloodlust in her. When she played, she was in the zone. Her concentration was fierce. She didn't appreciate interruptions. She took her gaming seriously. She even had a particular set of clothes she liked to wear while playing; her favourite black Ramones t-shirt and a knee length black skirt. No shoes. Toes curled into the carpet in concentration. She was a rare breed indeed, this gamer girl.

He watched her from the doorway. He knew once she started playing there was no chance of stopping her. He watched her intently - the way her blue eyes were so intense as she focussed on the game, they way her hands held the controller with such purpose. Those hands were very skilled. She used them on him often, and he appreciated them more than she knew. He watched her pale face and let his eyes wander down to her breasts, that Ramones t-shirt hugging the curve of them. He was filled with lust for her as she, apparently unaware, continued with her game.

She was vaguely aware of him watching her. She knew he was there, but she was so engrossed in her game she didn't acknowledge him. She would be playing all evening. He would probably go to bed and leave her to it, like he normally did. She sometimes wished he was interested in playing to. Some things are worth sharing together, but she knew he didn't enjoy it.

He walked slowly from his vantage point to where she sat, and knelt down on the floor beside her legs. He let his hands gently brush against her calves, looking for some sort of reaction. Nothing. She kept playing. His hands made their way to her thighs, and he stroked them with more purpose. Still nothing. He pushed her skirt up so it sat on her hips, leaving her bare legs and black lace panties. He was pleased. He loved those panties. He gently parted her legs, and let his hand press on her mound. She moaned slightly but did not stop playing or even look like her concentration was broken. He began to move her mound, and he noticed her pupils dilate, her lips part slightly and her breathing become shallower. He pushed her panties aside and slipped a finger between her pussy lips, surprised at the slickness of her. He parted her legs a little further and moved his head between her legs. He could hear gun fire in the background, and the sound of choppers. His tongue found her clit, and he began to lick it with purpose, with a pressure that he knew would drive her wild. Her body betrayed her and she started to rock her pelvis and squeeze her thighs together, keeping him there. He slipped a finger inside her, then another. She began to push against him, and he knew she was close to climax. He continued his assault on her clit as she continued her assault in the game. She let out a growl as she came, grinding her pussy against his face. She dropped the controller and rode the waves of orgasm, eyes closed and mouth open. She opened her eyes, looked down at him and then reached for her controller to restart the game. Her right leg was wrapped around his neck, leaving him with his face pushed up against her pussy. He was there for the evening it seemed, and she liked to play for hours.

Work chat 1

Falloutb5: You there?

DBT: Sorry, had to get this paper done at work.

Falloutb5: You’re at work?

DBT: Had to come in today. Don’t want to be here

Falloutb5: I’m bored

DBT: What are you up to?

Falloutb5: Supposed to be in a meeting. Sick of it. Weekend tomorrow.

DBT: How’s things with the ex?

Falloutb5: Don’t want to talk about it. The usual….

Falloutb5: You still there?

DBT: Bathroom.

Falloutb5: Did you sort yourself out!?

DBT: Ha ha.

DBT: Although I am feeling horny.

Falloutb5: Not up to your usual 3 times a day then?

DBT: Well, I haven’t had you to talk to……

Falloutb5: I’m here now am I not.

DBT: I suppose. I’m at work though.

Falloutb5: What are you wearing?

DBT: Skirt, blouse. I look good today if I do say so myself.

Falloutb5: You always look good. Although I never get to see you these days….

DBT: We have our Skype.

DBT: I show you my body. You get to play with me.

Falloutb5: I know.

Falloutb5: Are you wet?

DBT: I’m at work! I may be horny but there’s people around.

Falloutb5: Don’t you want to picture me? My cock?

DBT: Thanks for that! There’s people watching here I told you!

Falloutb5: Do you have a desk?

DBT: Yes…

Falloutb5: Don’t you want to picture me between your legs, looking at you.

DBT: Oh. I’m blushing now!

Falloutb5: Touch your breasts. Pretend your scratching them and squeeze your nipple.

DBT: I don’t know….

Falloutb5: Now!

DBT: Yes sir.

DBT: Mmmm. That felt good. I’m wet now.

Falloutb5: I’m sitting under your desk. Looking up your skirt.

Falloutb5: I can see your underwear. What colour are they?

DBT: White, boring but practical.

Falloutb5: I love the way your thighs look,. I can smell you, faintly. Your scent is amazing.

DBT: This isn’t helping…

Falloutb5: Stop. You’re only allowed to do what I say.

DBT: Yes sir.

Falloutb5: Squeeze your thigh.

DBT: Hmmmm.

Falloutb5: Pretend it’s me. You feel my face against the inside of your thighs. You can feel my breath against your skin.

Falloutb5: I can see your underwear getting wet.

DBT: My panties are wet.

Falloutb5: Squeeze your thighs together. Tightly. Squeeze me in.

DBT: God I’m turned on right now.

Falloutb5: My tongue is sliding up towards your pussy. You still have your underwear on.

Falloutb5: I lick over the cloth. I feel the wetness mixed with my saliva. You can feel my tongue on your clit.

DBT: Oh god…..

Falloutb5: I’m sucking at you. Tasting you. Pressing your clit harder.

DBT: I really need to come! I’m flushed. Can I go to the toilet?

Falloutb5: No.

DBT: OK.

Falloutb5: I need to go to a meeting.

DBT: What?! You have to let me come!!!

Falloutb5: No. You have to wait until I come back.

DBT: Please….. I’m going half crazy here.

Falloutb5: Wait. No touching.

DBT: Yes sir.

<< Falloutb5: appears offline and my not respond>>

Its our stop (reprise)

I catch the bus every day. I like it. The people, the passing by and the slight superiorty you feel looking into and down upon the cars. I like looking at the women driving by. I like breasts. Like any man I'll look at any breasts and like any man I would consider myself an expert. But then I like all breasts. The variety of shape and size attracts me. Nothing on a woman is more unique that her breasts. Her individuality. I never see any I do not like. I love them all but some more than others however.

I catch the bus daily. Everyday I watch the people get on and off. Everyday I see them, truly look at them, watching the girls and their wonderful shapes. But mostly I look forward to her. She gets on a every other day. So relaxed and free, with her easy dress sense over her full frame. Not that she's big mind, just full, womanly. And I like her breasts. I can see them, and everytime I see them I sigh inwardly with desire. Large, round, full. Sometimes I get to see the cleavage. That wonderful line plunging down into her body. Other times its just the outline and I can picture their shape. What is it that one person can be special or unique or intriguing yet another not.

I see her behind her sunglasses. She seems curious and engaging. Watching the other people. I see her watching women mostly, catching glances at their bodies. I wonder.

One day she hops on and another women sits down beside her. I can tell she likes this one. She looks slightly awkward, nervous. The shoulders hunched. I think she's scared of getting caught. I see the girl turn to her and say something. A small thing by the looks of it. They talk a little later.

I close my eyes and wonder at how she looks naked. The smooth lines of her neck. Her shoulders, round and ready to bite. Her wonderful breasts, their weight, the feel when cupped gently and held. the look when they hang down over me. The georgeous nipples, large and erect. Her body which I would love to touch, kiss gently and thoroughly, feel and explore. Her ass to rub slowly. To have her to myself and adore. To lose myself in her nakedness.

Then both of them get up to leave. Confusing. As she stands up and waits for the bus to stop she looks directly at me. She pauses as if assessing me and lifts her glasses. Winking at me. 'I see you.' A pause.  Lets go'. I am startled, instantly excited. Her fellow passenger looks at her, then at me and gets off. She says again ' Lets go'. This time waving at me. She looks at me as she gets off the bus. I make to get up....

.....'Let's go'. I open my eyes, shake my head and look next to me. My wife is prodding me gently. I look around. Look for her. She's gone. ' Yes dear'. I smile as I walk off the bus with her.

Emma

I was walking into the dressing room, she was walking out, wearing an evening maxi dress, no bra. It looked like she was coming out to look for someone but they weren't there. I saw her looking breathtakingly beautiful and said, "Wow, you look amazing in that dress!" She smiled and blushed a little. She asked is she really did look good. I said, "Turn around slowly, show me the dress." She did, turning full circle to me. My eyes lingered on her body, slowly rising to meet hers. I gave a faint smile, a knowing smile, and she smiled back. "It really does look incredible. I would buy it if I were you." She thanked me, then said, "Sorry to be annoying, but do you mind unzipping the back for me?" I laughed, saying, "Of course not." I followed her into the cubicle and shut the door. She turned away from me and I slowly unzipped the dress. As I did, my finger slowly traced the gentle curve of her back. "All done," I said. She grabbed a pen from her bag while holding the front of the dress in place and grabbed my hand. She wrote her mobile number on it. "Just in case," she said. I turned and left the dressing room.

That's how I met Emma. I am eager to meet Emma again, in a more private setting.

It's Our Stop

Most days I catch the bus to work and home again.  I wear my sunglasseses religiously.  I have multiple pair of sunglasses but my favourites are a pair of Rayban Aviators with mirror lenses.  They let me watch people.  Anyone and everyone really.  So I guess you could say I like sunglasses for the same reason an old pervert does, or a teenage boy.  I get off on looking at other people, women especially.  Some take my breath away. 

Breasts.  I love them.  I watch as each woman enters the bus and walks down the aisle, looking for a seat.  I assess her breasts, and if they are big enough, and lush enough, I imagine my head buried between them, my mouth on their nipple, sucking tenderly, biting, licking.  I imagine this every time I am on the bus. 

Coming home one day I wore my reading glasses instead of my sunglasses.  I was in a rush to leave work and forgot to switch them with my sunglasses.  The thing is, once they are on my face they just feel like glasses.  Like sunglasses.  So this day, as I watched each person get on, watched the way they moved and the way they searched frantically for somewhere to sit – looking for the right seat – I did not realise they could see me, see my eyes undressing them, devouring them.  First the blonde with the viola, who looks kind of geeky but secretly slutty.  I like her breasts.  She’s tall and quite solid.  She looks strong.  Then the older woman who wears those quirky red reading glasses.  She always sits near the front so I never get a good look at her, but I like her style.  Then goth girl gets on next, always in her cherry red 18 hole Docs.  Always with some tattered fishnets and a tartan skirt.  I like to watch her.  I like her attitude.  This day someone new gets on.  The bus is quite full but the seat beside me is spare.  I see her and gasp. Already I gasp and I haven’t even had time to examine her.  Closely cropped blonde hair, a small tight t-shirt that shows me a set of beautiful round breasts that I immediately want to touch, jeans and a pair of black Chucks.  I sit there watching her make her way down to the back of the bus.  She's short, she has curves and those breasts - heavenly.  I am thankful for my mirror lenses that I think I am wearing because I can’t take my eyes off her.  She approaches, my eyes on her breasts and the breath caught in my throat.  She turns and sits beside me.  I break my gaze and stare forward.  I sit so still in my seat, my skin feeling electric.  My breath comes in quiet, shortened pants as I try to contain myself.  I take off my glasses briefly and discover for myself that they are not my sunglasses but my reading glasses.  I let out a half gasp half laugh as I realise I have ogled the person sitting beside me and she has seen me do it, felt my eyes on her.  I steal a quick glance at her and she is already looking at me.  She has clear blue eyes which immediately catch my own.  I blush, colour rising to my cheeks.  She leans into me a little and whispers almost inaudibly, “I saw you watching me.”  I mutter “Oh” under my breath, wondering whether to apologise and hoping the earth will swallow me up on the spot.  She leans in again, whispering, “I liked it.”  “Oh” I say again, this time a little louder.  I am dumbstruck, turned on, embarrassed, excited, shy, all at once.  She drops her left hand in between us and strokes the side of my leg.  I jerk like I’ve been hit by a jolt of electricity.  She pushes the button, a few stops before mine.  My mind is racing, I’m barely containing my desire.  She leans in one last time as the bus pulls up and whispers, “It’s our stop.  Let’s go.”

At the carwash

I have no idea why I remember these things. One of those days fine, warm and covered in the emotion of another failed relationship. I mean we were still together but it gets to the point when the arguments and the insults have no reason any more. It's habit. Neither party right. Both wrong and falling upside down back into the same tower. Only to climb the stairs again.

But anyway, we were at the service station. Another argument in the car. Nothing I can remember or even see anymore. Just the air filled with tension. Winding down the window and feeling that warm breeze smooth through everthing. The inside of the car was dirty. Its interesting how the messier a life gets the messier the physical surrounding get. In an attempt to wash away something I decided on the car wash. Bad decision. We're late, you're too fucking lazy. Or some such thing. Mind you my comments were not much better.

I punched in the setting and we drove in. The drone of her in my ear and mine producing just as much crap. My head hurt. I couldn't focus. I felt like I was slipping. I wasnt me.

The window was slightly open and some foam splashed in on my face and shirt. We both stopped and looked down. Silence. I wound up the window and we looked at each other. The confusion in both our faces. The realisation that we were done hitting home in an odd manner of interruption. My mind clear for the first time in months. Just looking at each other. A tear from her eye. I felt sad and free at the same time so I kissed her.

She kissed back with passion we'd not had in a long time. Her tongue immediately toying with mine. Moving and circling. Taking turns at moving to the sensitive base. Surges of desire ripping through me. I could feel her. A connection I'd not felt since we were in love, properly. She grabbed me harder, pulling me closer. I felt her hair, dragging at it. Pulling it through hard. Her hands grabbed the front of my trousers. I grabbed her ass and remembered how good it felt. She was wearing a skirt. I pulled it up and felt over her underwear. She was warm, I was hard. She unzipped my fly and yanked my cock out. I replied by pulling aside her panties. I could actually feel her getting wet, wanting me.

Her hand squeezed hard, and pulled fast right away. I was vaguely away of the water spraying on the car. I rubbed her clit then put two fingers inside her. She lifted herself upwards. I moved the fingers up and against the rough part, feeling the g spot. She groaned and moved her hips back and forth slightly. My cock by now so hard and excited. I wanted to come, and quickly. No romantic moments of foreplay. Neither of us wanted it.

My hand left her and started rubbing her clit. Fast and to the side. The familiarity of a years sex knowing how to reach climax quickly. All the while our tongues going back and forth, feeling the wet saliva over our faces. Passionate, messy kissing. We both reached our pace and stuck with it. A feeling of utter abandonment, Nothing else existed. I could feel my balls start to tingle, feel it building up. Her mouth opened as it does when she's about to come. She groaned and her body arched. I could feel her climax. Her mouth biting down, her hand squeezing me hard, bringing me over the brink. I came. Messily, aching, gorgeously. Not caring where my cum went. I put my head on her shoulder. I knew her eyes were closed. Mine didn't want to open, to face our life. I wanted to be trapped in that moment....

As I did open my eyes it was too light and I could see the drier hovering around the car. We were done. I sat up, looked at her adjusting her skirt back down. I did my pants up, started the car and drove out. We smiled at one another while waiting to enter the traffic. A slightly sad but satisfied smile.

We broke up the next day.