The Best Addiction for Men: Kindness

 

 So it's 2018, and for all the strides humankind has made in science, inclusion, and respect toward one another, I feel at times, lost.
     Lost in a series of random thoughts that slap my optimism hard, with ongoing displays of injustice or disgust.

Examples:

- Sitting at an old auto repair shop next to an elderly customer, I peek toward the shop floor, and catch the 1989 Sunshine girl taped above one of the mechanic's toolboxes.

- Hanging by the bar in a downtown nightclub I catch two giddy young men suddenly grind up against a random woman, complete strangers in each other's eyes.

- News stories of men who hit and injure their girlfriends, as if to assume they are their property

Why does this still go on?

     One day, I watched one of my favorite movies with a group of friends and acquaintances. The Last Samurai graced the screen with its timeless tale of a great 19th century battle between the Japanese military and the land's 500 year old Samurai peacekeepers. The story is one of my favorites because it is dotted with powerful signs of honor, humility, shame, and at its core, a deep responsibility for preserving the old tradition of peaceful human existence.

     As mentioned, the basis or root of peaceful existence is respect. With respect and humility, we can place ourselves before others in a selfless manner. In this philosophy, we are open to listening, understanding, and helping one another. These actions help nurture a civilization with greatly cultivated opportunities to strengthen it through trust, optimism and compassion.

     In particular, what has bothered me as of late, are the random indicators of an immature culture, particularly in young males (for the sake of today's article). There have been times where I've heard the traditionally commonplace whistle, careless insult, or outright lack of courtesy from young men towards women of all ages.

     Now don't think I'm painting with a thick and dark brush here...I have met many people, both male and female, who grew up influenced to show an extraordinary level of respect and courtesy towards others. For those people, and those who taught them, I give my thanks.

     But it is the few slow-growing number of men who are either not taught courtesy, or taught to act in a way other than courteous...that draw pessimism in me.

     I believe that there are four major factors that influence, to some substantial degree, a person's habits and choices. They are: Media, Parents, School, and Peers.

     Each of these factors are able to yield positive and/or negative influences in a young person's life. Quite often, they can all continue to influence one's life to a point that they can have some effect on the person's personality, conduct and life choices.

     Young kids and adults spend time with each of these four influences almost every day. 

     They are bombarded with commercial ads or suggestive music or graphic video games, all purposefully devised in the media realm, from social media apps to television programming. 

     When in school, or the workplace, people attempt to learn problem solving skills and routines so they can earn a rewarding career. During such shifts, they interact with cohorts who can influence them in either kind and inclusive, or subtle, possibly distasteful manners. 

     Peer groups, especially those of the age whom a person can relate to, can imprint a hugely suggestive influence on a person. The attitude and agenda of certain individuals and peer groups may communicate in a compassionate or aggressive dialogue, which sets the tone of activity within the peer group.

     Parents are the traditional pillars of support for children, having been there from the start. Barring the odd parent with arguably selfish or bad habits, most parents operate on the premise of undying love for their children. At the end of the day, if a parent reminds his or her child to open the door for others, do their homework, or stay away from drugs, whether it be said calmly, or through a scolding voice, a parent educates his or her child because they love them and care for their eventual well-being. 

     Growing through and navigating this fast-paced, quickly-changing world is not easy for young men.

It is certainly also not easy for young women, who become the subject of the odd disrespectful act or discourtesy. 

     I feel like pointing the finger at the media and peers as two of the greatest entities which have the ability to influence a youngster, for better or for worse. Media is both subtle in its imagery, and able to morph quickly in its objectives. Through the availability of so much content of varying genres, people can locate virtually any food for their thought, be it realistic or not. And it is when youngsters are exposed to content that is ill-representative of decency, that some of them gorge on the fantastical until it quietly and subconsciously becomes a perceived reality in their still-developing minds.

     Negatively influential peer groups can have the same effect, in fact, to a more powerful extent. Friends can use the skill of persuasion, rationale or argument to incite amoral or disrespectful views on someone. The debate can continue faster than at the media level, as a human can swiftly persuade a particular view or philosophy on another human. 

     It is all of these forms of influence which can, at any time, cascade into terrible addictions that have at their core, roots of disrespect, arrogance, intolerance, and greed. None of these elements are able to find clear paths to love and respect between humans.

     If all this were for good, then the four methods of influence would be wonderful. But over time,and especially with the advantages of speed and technology, society sees a great and perhaps grotesque struggle between the sexes as they attempt to find heartfelt bonds in both friendship and love.

     Virtually gone are traditional elements of courtesy, or displays of good listening skills, where a man and a woman can sit and communicate intently and without distraction. Fleeting, are the selfless actions that exude appreciation and admiration- the ones that come with no unusual conditions, hitches or surprise obligations in return. Gone is the one addiction that should be prevalent in all men in a responsible society...simple kindness.

     Instead, society churns out a growing male populace of arrogance and aggression. Innocent learning is replaced with strategic charm. Instead of skillfully hand-painting a portrait of an admired woman as a show of courtship, females are met with cold textual introductions, laced with fabricated expectations and endless dick pics. A culture of objectification continues to drop its existence in random workplaces, casual social gatherings or even during a simple walk to work.

     As I wince at these notions, I search deep down for optimism. Humankind did not come this far only to operate in reverse. If I were to conclude the best remedy for this disgusting problem, I would say that humanity needs re-education. Only with great effort in educating today's and tomorrow's generations will women feel more comfortable in the workplace, in school, in social gatherings and in relationships. 

     With all the garbage media programming and unacceptable habits floating around in every daily interaction, there has to be a reduction in commercially-driven concepts of fantasy and "liberalism-without-responsibility". After all, for a society to allow itself freedoms and opportunities that seem endless, there should be the attainment of a grounding mechanism, like pertinent responsibility, which cautions the decision-making of groups or individuals, and heeds humility as a mechanism for respect. 

     So as I reflect on humanity's less than mature and responsible behavior over the years, I accept the task of responsibility that a generation must have for the one that follows it. Humans (in particular, males) must prove a strong existence of the heart that beats deep in their chests, and live each day setting a strong example of the values that make women comfortable around them. 

     Undoubtedly, many men know it. But many do not, and must seek to grasp such existence.

     Holding open a door. Issuing a thoughtful compliment. Being an understanding, supportive individual. Any of these actions can be examples of influence which, when demonstrated in media, schools and in peer groups, help convey a warm, inclusive and safe environment for everyone in a society. Constant dedication to these demonstrations of kindness, humility and respect can lead humans to embrace an addiction that radiates endless harmony.

     And on a more personal note I offer an admission...

...For as long as I have known love and have loved, I will forever know that a woman lives through her heart. A woman's heart guides her first... and guides her always. She basks in happiness. She navigates through the turbulence of pain. She reflects on life's journeys. And she anticipates life's next bend in the road. All, through her heart. 

     Therefore it is up to man to gaze honorably into a woman's eyes- a mother, a sister, a spouse- and learn the intricacies of her heart. For it is through a woman's heart, that a man may find love in his own heart, and from it, kindness and humility will never fleet.

Reflecting on my Writing Journey

 

  A Happy New Year salute to all my readers and friends, and all the best for 2018. I hope all of you accomplish your goals and resolutions for the year!

      Looking toward an exciting new year, I want to look back and share some reflections about my learning journey as an indie author:

      I can't believe I've made it this far! About four years ago, I felt inspired by a friend to put my ideas onto paper, and I still remember my first work- a twenty-page erotic short story. After my friend's suggestion to add more depth and length to what seemed like an interesting idea, it slowly wound it's way into a three-hundred page novel called Hooked.
     Since that point, I've written and published three romance novels and established this blog site where I write down my thoughts on life and relationships from time to time.

      The journey has not been easy. Don't get me wrong. Most of it wasn't necessarily difficult. Just rather, time consuming. To me, any job can be classified as either difficult, or time consuming. Recalling each process, from establishing a story line to writing, editing, formatting, getting a cover, uploading, promotion and sales...Virtually all of these aspects of creating a book I'd say are more a long, patience testing process. So often, people give up because they see the mountain instead of the small pathway to its top. If you break down the large task of book creation into small manageable chunks, and maintain patience, you can absolutely smash that target of creating your book and getting it out to readers!

      Have a sounding board! I have a few close friends who I bounce ideas off when I get stuck with writing or some other creative aspect of my book. No author I know of can pump out an entire work without any help. Besides, having friends who are voracious readers can offer some validation to your ideas, or help offer other ideas that can steer your characters or plot in exciting ways!

      A tip from a very good friend of mine. Keep writing. Write every day! Whether it be just a few sentences, or thousands of words on a sprint. My good friend sits at her computer every day and strengthens her "muscle memory" by writing constantly. As a result, doing this can refine your writing skill and keep the juices flowing. This can lead to an increase to the quality and quantity of work you produce. Just like fitness buffs who work out religiously...once you find yourself working at a goal every day, you subconsciously want to keep doing it, and avoid quitting!

      That last point said, it's important to understand that not everyone works at the same speed and quantity. That is totally fine. Some people produce their best work under pressure or deadlines. Some work best under little to no pressure. I've found results under both conditions, to be honest. Although I feel most creative with my writings when I have no pressure to write, it was under a self-imposed deadline to write a third book that I hunkered down and completed Tale of James. And it turned out just fine!

      Don't be afraid to ask for help. Fast forward four years, and I can finally tout my first author signing, back in September 2017. The Ignite Your Soul Event in London Ontario is where I met so many wonderful and caring authors and readers who welcomed a newbie writer and showed me and other new authors how to promote our work to eager readers in the area. Coupled with social media as a huge promotional engine, these same people in the literary world have been nothing short of helpful when it came to lending their talents and skills to helping other authors refine and promote their work.

      So as I look back at the past four years, I can close my eyes and whisper a sincere thank-you from my heart to all the incredible authors, designers, readers and supporters of the indie author community. I am confident that I have found more than just a venue for my thoughts on paper. I have found a fantastic group of human beings who share a common interest, and through that interest, devote time from their busy lives to help others bring their stories to life, for eager eyes to enjoy!

     Let's always keep the story going!

Night Moves

Practicing the first person POV a little more. 

Here's a sinful little after hours intimate scene for your reading pleasure. 

The words are a bit coarser, so you've been warned. 

Enjoy!

Night Moves

                “Come here, give me a hug.”

I lean in and give my girlfriend a loose embrace, giggling the whole time. Our night at the bar has ended and I’ve had so much to drink, it’s a good thing I decided early on to cab it to the club and home.

“Ok girlfriend. See you Monday!” As the words tumble out of my mouth, I trip on the curb and do my best as an eloquent drunk to catch myself.

“Whoa, baby,” my girlfriend shouts out in concern. “Why don’t you take those heels off while you wait for your Uber?”

“No thanks, sweetie. Once these pumps come off, they are NOT going back on, you hear me?” I could not stop giggling. It took only eight tequila shots to get me this graceful, and I revel in the midnight air outside the bar by attempting the most graceful pirouette before some car screeches to a halt and blasts its horn at me.

“Fucker!” I yell out at the four-thousand-pound van with it’s motor running. My girlfriend steps toward me and leans in to my ear.

“THAT’S your cab ride home, FUCKER! You sure you’re okay to go home alone?”

“I’m fine,” I reply, a sweet grin on my face as I lean toward her and tap her nose with my finger. I wrench the sliding door open and stumble in, then wave goodbye to my sweetheart.

The van pulls away and as it winds through the downtown core towards my apartment, I look out the window and let out a long breath while laying back in the seat.

Miranda has been my best friend for years. I’ve known her since we were in grade nine. I trust her with everything. She even has a key to my apartment. Thank God she’s patient with my emotional ass. Lately I’ve been venting to her non-stop about the older man who just moved in down the hall from me. Icarus.

I peer out the window, contemplating what the hell his parents were thinking when they named the hot beast who currently resides at the other end of my floor…

Icarus. It doesn’t even rhyme with anything good. Shmikarus?

But that body. That lean, six-foot plus, ab-riddled tanned-as-fuck body…. I’d let it do things to me. Very naughty things…

                Thankfully, my apartment is not far from the bar, and just a few minutes more of my dreamy-eyed gaze out the window leads the van to stop in front of my home.

                “Here you go,” the driver says. I come to my senses and shift my butt forward so I can settle my tab and shuffle out of the vehicle, being met with a cold snap of chilly night air across my face. I shut the door and raise a hand as I step slowly toward the lobby, not realizing the van has already pulled away.

                After a few tries with my key, I finally get the key in and wrench the tumbler over, opening the door. A few more steps in, and I’ve had enough of my night-long balancing act. I sit on the old pleather couch in the lobby and attempt to remove the ankle strap from my heels.

                No luck.

                How the hell did I even get these on? I ponder, looking at the small gold-plated buckle wrapped tightly around my ankle.

                I let out a slow exhale and lean forward, determined to make it just a little longer being four inches above the ground. I hit the elevator button and wait.

                Turning to my right, I regard the wallpaper in the lobby. I’ve never noticed my building’s tribute to 1972. God, that is SO bronze. Why didn’t I notice it before?

                Suddenly, the elevator doors open, and as I take baby steps inside, a tall dark form captures my eyes when I turn around to face the door. I push the button to my floor, and as the doors slide closed, I find myself wanting to die…

                “Marianne. How are you?” Icarus looks at me with a warm smile. I fight to think of a response. Something witty. Something sexy. I look up at his beautiful blue eyes.

                “I’m good. You?” What in the actual fuck!? That’s all I can muster? I look down at my feet, and focus on drawing my heels close together so I can detract from the most pathetic response I could have ever generated. Here I am stuck with the hottest stud in the building and I can’t even hold a decent conversation with him.

                “I’m alright, I guess. Hey, how’s the TV working out?”

                I tilt my head back slightly, trying to remember what the hell he is talking about. Then, I remember. He had helped set up my new television system last week, because I’m so bad at electronics, it’s a miracle I can operate an automatic door.

                “Oh, it’s good, Icarus. Thank you.” My eyes trail back to the floor, then sweep to the side while I take a long quiet breath, hoping for the arrival of my sobriety.

                I hear the elevator creep up its rails to our floor and I’m at a loss for words. I figure it’s best to stay silent while inebriated, so I don’t put my foot in my mouth. But the box of clothing and toiletries in his hands catches my eyes, and I can’t help but push a question out of my mind to cut the tension.

                “You aren’t moving out already, are you?”

                He looks down at the box. “Oh, this? No.” He pauses for a moment, unsure of how much he should say. “I… just broke up with my girlfriend.” He shrugged his massive shoulders, and I catch a quick flex of his biceps from under his sleeves as he holds the cardboard box in front of his ripped chest.

                “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that.” I’m so not sorry to hear that.

                The elevator doors open at our floor and he gestures me to exit first. I wave him good night, lingering my gaze at his beautiful blue eyes just a little longer than I should, then catch myself, and step out into the hall.

                “Have a good night, Marianne,” he vocalizes, turning toward his end of the hall.

                “You too honey!” I respond, advancing impatiently toward my apartment, rummaging through my purse for keys. By this point, it’s a miracle I’ve managed to walk to my door, but I’m more captivated by the fact that I can’t locate my keys.

                “What the fuck?!” I mutter angrily under my breath.

                Unbeknownst to me, six pack hears it, and walks over to my end of the hall.

                “You okay, Marianne?”

                Nervous AND frustrated, I flick my hand out of my purse, and yell out. “I just can’t find my fucking keys!” As soon as the words leave me, I realize my verbiage and cover my mouth while looking up at him. “I am sooo sorry.”

                Icarus simply smiles, and looks down at my purse. His hand reaches over to the one holding my purse and tugs at my keychain. “You mean these keys, right here, in your other hand?”

                I look down at my hand, a large ring full of keys dangling between it and my purse, and if I could have turned beet red, I’m sure it would have shown right then and there.

                “I uh…yes…uh, thank-you.” I fumble and wave my hand about in front of him, embarrassed as all hell, but determined to let him know that I got this!

                Icarus issues a gentle nod and places a hand on my arm, content that I’ve found my keys.

                While he walks away, I take a long minute to exhale and compose myself. Why the fuck is Icarus seeing me at my most un-lady like? Of all nights? Dammit!

                After trying a few wrong keys, I finally wrench the right one in the hole, and unlock the door to my apartment. I open the door, but before stepping in, I feel a blanket of tingles course down my back.

                It’s been a wonderful night. And I’ve always believed in fate. I turn and look down the hall…seeing Icarus heading into his apartment with box in hand.

                “Hey Icarus. You feel like a coffee? I just bought a new Espresso machine.”

                Silence.

                “Yeah. Sure, Marianne.” I look my acquaintance over, and know in my heart that he doesn’t want to be alone tonight. He needs someone to talk to. I could be that someone.

                I hold my door open for him, and watch as he locks his door and walks past me into my apartment.

                I could be his ear. I just have to sober up first…

                Minutes later, I have Icarus sitting across from me in my recliner as I take to my couch. We each have a coffee in our hands and I have my favourite throw pillow in front of me while we chat.

                “So, she was that boring. I mean seriously, why should anyone be in a relationship where you don’t grow together? Life’s not all about movies and dinners every weekend. God! Booooring!”

                As the reasons for leaving his girlfriend fill the air between us, I’m lucky to hear any of it, as my eyes are more focussed on his soft, kissable lips. God how I want to just lean forward and…

                “Do you feel the same way, Marianne?” he asks, hoping for my approval.

                I look to the straps on my shoes, which I realize I still haven’t figured out. Though I was now sobering up, I simply don’t care to move.

                “Here, let me.” Icarus sets down his coffee and crouches down inches from my feet. I watch, trying hard not to think about wanting to grab hold of his thick hair with my hands to guide it toward places…

                He reaches for the tiny gold buckle on the side of my ankle with his large hands, and works it free with his fingers. The strap falls loose and he grasps the heel and pulled it free from my foot. I close my eyes and let out a breath, thankful for the freedom. I then open my eyes and watch, this time smiling thoughtfully as he places his hands on my other ankle and carefully undoes the other strap, freeing my foot from my other shoe.

                “There you go. Better?”

                I wiggle my toes and nod once. “Much.”

                I watch as he slides back into my recliner and picks up his coffee. He brings it to his mouth and takes a sip of the hot beverage.

                I did the same, easing into my couch and tasting some more coffee. The sight of him in my room was elating beyond belief. I was happy to be sobering up, so that I wouldn’t do anything I’d regret.

                And that’s when I put my coffee down and look at him in silence.

                “You are a very beautiful man.”

                Icarus raises his chin in curiosity, as he processes my statement, then drops his head and shakes it with a smile. “Whatever.”

                I fight my reservations hard as I place my coffee on the glass table between us, then meet his eyes with mine.

                “I…kinda wanted to tell you something….but never could.”

                “Yeah? What is it? Is the tv not working properly? I don’t mind having a look at it.”

                I shook my head nervously. “No. It’s not that. I….”

                Our stares lock hard for what seems like an eternity in thick silence.

                “Icarus. I wanted to tell you, that…you’re a nice guy.”

                Icarus’ stare didn’t waver, and after a long, awkward silence, he responded, a smooth confidence about him suddenly capturing my pupils.

                “I think you’re a special lady too.” His eyes shift a little as he gets up, not sure where to aim his words. “I mean, you are such a kind soul. You helped me settle in when I moved into this building. You always hold the elevator door for me when we see each other. You’ve taught me how not to load the washing machine downstairs. And well, that smile...I…”

                Suddenly, it happens.

                I never had anyone tell me that my smile was beautiful. In fact, I’ve always been self-conscious of my smile, never thinking that it, or I was particularly beautiful. All my life, I was made fun off. This face of mine, somehow never complete with the best of my intentions. But then this beautiful, handsome gentle hunk comes along, and makes me feel more beautiful than I have ever felt!

                And that’s when I get up from the couch and walk over to him…to show my appreciation.

                Now standing inches in front of the handsome hottie in my recliner, I pause to confirm his statement.

                “You think I have a nice smile?”

                Icarus looks up at me and without hesitation, melts me.

                “I think that smile it the most beautiful of any that I’ve seen, Marianne.”

I can’t help but feel drawn to his lips, so I lean in and throw caution to the wind. I cup his face in my hands and place a single, soft kiss on his face, then as quickly as I’ve placed it, I pull back…nervously awaiting his response. Have I gone too far?

He tilts the recliner upright and slowly rises from it. Now I am standing face to jaw with a man I’ve suddenly kissed on a whim, and now I feel naked. Foolish.

But his next actions secure me.

“Didn’t you say your feet were tired?” He leads me to my couch and lays me down on my back, then takes a seat and gestures my legs to reside upon his lap.

“Uh, no. No I didn’t. But….”

I oblige and before I can give reason to any other faint thought, the warmth of two big warm hands come to cradle my feet, rubbing them up and down, easing the pain of four-inch stilettos from my arches and toes. I close my eyes and let out a long breath, unable to speak.

Mmmm. Fuck, his hands feel so good on me.

I feel the warmth of his digits pass along my feet and ankles, rubbing away the red mark of the straps, once tight around me, and I fall helplessly to his awesome touch on my skin. I bite my lower lip, never having felt this spoiled in a long, long time. I let out a soft, barely audible purr, but Icarus notices, and his hands stop.

Please don’t stop…

I don’t know what it is with me tonight, but I feel like the world has come to a standstill…just for me. My elations felt beyond my own existence, so I acted oh them…or rather, let them act out, through me…

I kick my feet to the floor and stand up. I then turn to Icarus and stare deep into his eyes, gauging his intentions. Judging by the deep blue hues and unwavering sense of security in his gaze, I know that it feels right…secure…

I lift up my red dress and wiggle it off me, then toss it aside. His eyes open wide, overdosing on every curve of my body. He wriggles about, adjusting himself as he enjoys the sight in front of him.

I step forward and climb onto his rock-hard body, straddling his now hard, tight crotch. His jeans can’t hide his intent toward me. We are connecting in a way that I’ve wanted for the longest of times. Now I have him. In front of me. Under me. And things are gonna get real. Right now.

I lean in and rest my glossy lips against his neck, just under his jawline. I growl as my lips dot him, leaving trails of affection along the border of where his smooth skin meets the dark stubble of his neatly trimmed beard.

My lips pass along his neck, and as I approach his Adams’ apple, I feel the blood course through his jugular, fierce and excited, aroused by my slow and tender movements. I can smell the Drakkar off his skin, and it lures my inhibitions further and further down a mystical path of euphoria.

Suddenly, I feel him lean forward and pick me up, both his hands digging into my ass.

“Your bedroom…quick.”

“Left,” I respond. “Left, down here…”

I feel myself carried in his big beautiful arms toward my bedroom, and moments later, I fall onto the soft Egyptian sheets. My eyes are shut as I reach out and grasp the blanket in my hands, unsure of what will happen next…

In the moonlight through my window, I see him remove his shirt and toss it aside, his biceps two beautiful curvaceous forms in the darkness, waiting to clench me tight… He climbs onto the bed and his body pulls in close. I turn to the side and expose my neck, eager to be taken hard and lewdly.

His lips dive across my neck and he ravishes me, reddening my cheeks with his stubbly jawline. As he kisses me, I reach along and drag my fingertips up his sides, feeling every tight, defined muscle as I search for the outline of his traps. With hands now on his back, I dig my nails in, pulling him tighter to me, wanting to be taken amidst the darkest of curiosities.

My mouth hangs open as my core heats, wanting to be filled by his presence…every wonderful hard inch of it. Finally, I run my hands onto his backside and as I pull his tight ass into my body, as I generate visions of how good he looks in a pair of blue jeans. My signal worked, and he kneels up, fully prepared to handle me to the next level…

…and I will totally let him…

Luring me onto all fours, he stands at the end of my bed and slowly undoes his black leather belt. I face him and watch eagerly, swaying my ass about, teasing the fuck out of him, as I know he is all man. I’ve caught him staring at my voluptuous rear last week in the laundry room, and I’ve always wanted to feel his hands on it. Now I will make him pay, for making me wait so long.

His hands drift slow, down my back, and come to rest at my lacey underwear. I feel a slight hesitation. Not now, Icarus. Fuck, not now… I take matters into my own hands and keep the momentum going. I lean forward, and trail my tongue down his tight abs until I am literally biting the stitching of his jeans, tugging firmly to find the treasure beneath the surface.

Icarus finds my approval, and the animal subdues the gentleman in him. Finally, his hands slither under my lacey red underwear and squeeze the fuck out of my shapely ass. He feeds on my every curve as I hear faint growls drift past his lips just inches above me…

Suddenly, Icarus drops to his knees, drawing his steely member far from my mouth’s reach. But soon it’s enticement is replaced with the most sensual long, deep kisses from his perfect lips upon mine. His tongue dives down my mouth, its depth teasing me in the most delightful ways.

Then, Icarus appears as thought he can’t take it anymore. He wants to fuse himself to me in the most intimate of ways.

He stares at me hard and silent, as a single direction leaves his mouth.

“Turn around.”

I obey, and swivel slowly on my bed, biting my lip, knowing I am teasing the fuck out of the hot hunk behind me. I slowly one knee at a time, stretching my legs outside his, making it easier for him to get close…

.. and I wait…

Soon, I feel Icarus’ warm hands slither about my legs and ass, in smooth, slow swirling motions.

“I love those hands, baby.”

“Do you?” he questions… eventually lifting them away.

Suddenly, I feel the harsh hot sting of his palm making contact with my cheek. I flinch for a moment, then take in the burn of his tease on my skin…and love it. With guilty pleasure, I decide to sway my butt about…begging for more without saying a word.

It isn’t long before I feel the drift of his huge hand across my behind and then….

Fwap!

God, he must be reading my mind. I love being spanked like that. So naughty…

By now, my core is more than wet enough to welcome any gift he has to offer...

…and moments later, I feel my panties rip apart in his grip, and something quite hard presses firmly at my entrance. I close my eyes again and bite my lip.

…I cannot wait…

The feelings of anxiety doused with arousal bring me to new levels of elation as I feel his girthy member slowly push its way into me…inch by marvelous inch.

A squeal passes my lips as I widen my stance, taking each sweet instant to get used to his size in me. Fuck he feels good. So good. Fuck!

In the few long moments he takes to enter my moist pussy, I find he doesn’t stop his advance until his head finds my bottom, and his full length comes to rest deep inside my limits. I let out an unexpected moan. Fuck he’s big…

His hands come to rest on my hips, and a slow murmur resonates through his gut as his body begins to work my frame, over and over. The feelings of him inside me are so intense, I drop my face onto my pillow, just so I can bury my mouth in it in case I scream.

My hands reach out and forward, clenching onto my wrinkled sheets, causing my back to curve instinctively…seductively…now driving him wild with the sight of my total submission to his mastery…

 Harder and harder he pushes into me, his member making my wet core ache for the thrusting of a lifetime. I picture his beautiful eyes above me, looking down on my body, taking in every inch of me. I know he loves what he sees, as his hot sensuous hands cannot stay off my body.

His fingers devour every inch of my skin as they trace across me. His touch is a drug, of immeasurable captivation, and my body, prisoner to its hold, gives every last nerve of itself to his influence.

I can no longer hold onto my feelings, and turn my head to the side, preparing for a vicious and delightful crest.

“Fuck me, Icarus. Own me good and hard!” I mutter feverishly through gritted teeth.

Icarus feels my intensity, and as our desires align, he leans forward and pulls me up off the bed into a kneeling position, pulling my body close up tight against his chest. He wraps his arms around my body and drills himself into me with a rapid succession of thrusts, stunning my g-spot.

Fighting hard to hold on, I finally buckle, and, falling limp in his arms, I clench rapidly, coming hard on the sheets. He follows me, and orgasms hard inside, pinning himself inside my tight, pulsing core.

Feeling full and alive, I continue to twitch on my bed, riding every wave of orgasm as it rips through my belly. All Icarus can do is watch me as I become the most beautiful, incredible example of pleasure he has ever laid eyes upon. A smile draws across his face as he makes his way close to me and riddles me with soft sweet kisses as I work off the last of my glorious quakes.

“Goddam, Marianne. I have no words…”

I look up at him and smile, as I feel the same. I cup his cheek in my hand and kiss his beautiful lips, not wanting the moment to ever fleet.

But I look to his eyes, and search for the words that conclude my contentment.

“Thank-you Icarus.”

“For what?” he asks, wrapping my body with in his arms as he settles beside me for the night.

“For seeing the beauty in me.”

“I’m sure it’s always been there, Marianne….

…It’s always been there. And forever will be…”

The End.