I don’t dream often, now, nor have I for decades. Most of my memorable dreaming stopped around the time I entered puberty. This isn’t anything I’ve really explored, although I understand I might want to. Not remembering dreams isn’t what is considered normal behavior, I guess. Still, when I was single in my early 20s, there was a night where I dreamt of my ex-girlfriend strongly; vividly; memorably.
In this increasingly digital world, we all seem to have at least one. Some of us have many more. At this very moment I sit at my desk, finished with a day of work, with 5 different glowing screens around me. You might say I’m a bit of a gadget whore.
as I slowly awaken
senses coming back online
through the fog of deep slumber
my body fails to comprehend
why is it so dark
are my wrists bound
As the fight for Marriage Equality continues — now with the U.S. State of Alabama grabbing headlines for the insolence of Justice Roy Moore — and the Supreme Court having announced that they will hear arguments regarding cases overseen by the 6th Circuit Court of the United States I’ve been contemplating how this all came about. There have been several groups working tireless for decades to see equal rights extended to all people within the United States that do not hold to the hetero-normative standards; without the efforts of groups like The Gay and Lesbian Advocates and Defenders helping make the U.S. State of Massachusetts the first U.S. state and only the sixth jurisdiction globally to recognize the basic human right of marriage for same-sex couple we would not be living in an age in which acceptance and recognition of same-sex couples’ rights has expanded exponentially. And yes, while the decisions within the courts — and the rare legislative motion — have been the means through which the official recognition of same-sex marriage has come to pass, the driving force behind the rising levels of acceptance has not been driven from exclamations from on high but rather by changing the thoughts and attitudes of the general populace. For this I believe we have these most visible people for their bold, fearless leadership in driving forward proper equality for all within the LGBTQ community.
Fog drifts between the trees, caressing the warm soil
Sighing as the leaves below embrace and release
Searching, yearning for the long forgotten release
Lovers ethereal, dancing amongst the glow
Joining, parting, joining once again
Lips, limbs, bosoms, hips
Vanish in darkness
This was a Wicked Wednesday Post. Click the button below to see who else is playing along!
The following story is a work of erotic fiction; a fantasy inspired from my younger, more timid days. Feel free to skip it if such things do not appeal to your sensibilities.
I’m trying something new this week. There’s something started bumbling around in my brain and I’m going to see how well it looks once it comes out. For the first time ever, may I present a bit of erotic fiction:
One of the first things I did after I graduated high school was to stop shaving my upper lip. The hair growth was minimal at the time, really, but the contours of my lip were enough to make shaving uncomfortable, and in no way whatsoever could I get my lip to ever feel as “baby soft” smooth as my cheeks. The too-short-to-see stubble would aggravate me all day, which would lead to me rubbing at it, which would lead to redness and more soreness. The cycle was frustrating at the least, and more often downright embarrassing. I tried growing the fully connected goatee to accompany my budding mustache, but due to some genetic quirks in my ancestry — I blame the Cherokee introduced somewhere around the time of The Great Depression — I could not grow the connecting line from lips to chin. Determined to hide what I thought was a very plain, boring slightly too soft of a chin, I grew the goatee without the connecting trails of hair between lips and chin. For over thirteen years, now, this has been the staple of my facial hair. Sometimes I grow out a bit of a beard — lately it’s during the days I work, and then I shave it off after coming home for my days off — and other times I’ve taken meticulous care to be otherwise clean and smooth every day.
Of course, my shaving days began long before I graduated high school. I started the routine of having to shave somewhere around 7th or 8th grade, about the age of 13. At first, I didn’t have much to shave; my facial hair grows slowly now, and even more so in the early days. I had my own razor, but it could go a week or longer without touching my face and I’d still look smooth, or relatively so. I didn’t have to start worrying about shaving more than once every 4 or 5 days until my 10th grade year, the first at the high school from which I eventually graduated. It was during my time at this high school that I also discovered the shaving regimen that has stayed with me through this day.
As I’ve mentioned previously, Mrs. AP is plotting an evening/night in celebration of my approaching birthday that will feature the inclusion of Our Date in delightful debauchery. Mrs. AP knows that I’ve been getting the itch for some male/male and group action, and to my delight so has she!
We lay in bed discussing the various things we would like to have happen, what would be nice but won’t cause disappointments without, and where our limits with Our Date lie. In this our limits are usually flexible, dependent upon our individual comfort levels as well as our comfort levels with our new prospective partner. We both find ourselves comfortably drawn to him, to the point we found ourselves agreeing that our only limits with him are our typical hard limits — no blood play, no bathroom play, no animals or children.
Our discussion turned to things we want to have happen. Here Mrs. AP reminded me of just how wonderful a sexual woman she is. Her fingers traced my lips, her voice a dusky whisper, as she said “I want to watch you slide those plump lips down his hard cock.” A surge of excitement rushed down my spine and wrapped around to grip my cock in a vice grip of anticipation that had me instantly hard and throbbing. Yes. A cock — his cock — between my lips and gliding across my tongue. I couldn’t do anything more to answer than nod and moan as I struggled to regain my voice. Mrs. AP smiled, that lusftul, warm smile full of pride and joy and lust and love that I’ve never seen look as beautiful as it does on her.
Her fingers trailed down my neck to my chest as she asked “And what do you want to have happen? It’s your birthday we’re planning. You can have whatever you want.” My voice caught for less than a second before I looked at her, my eyes and cheeks burning with lust. Deliberately, slowly, my voice throaty and bordering on a deep baritone, I recited what wishlist:
He was even cuter in person than his pictures conveyed. Mrs. AP and I gave him hugs and sat down opposite him. We were late, and apologized profusely. It was my fault; my nap ran long. In short turn that ceased to matter. Conversation flowed smoothly. Those awkward pauses never materialized. Those uncomfortable silences never presented themselves. It was if we all just fell into that comfortable association that only comes when kindred spirits gather. It was warm and refreshing and exciting.
Nearly a week has passed. Between Mrs. AP and I we’ve both been talking to him nearly every night. He’s charming, intelligent, and our kind of geek. He’s different enough to bring an interesting addition to our existing dynamic. He’s similar enough for there to be a strong likelihood of good cohesion. Best of all, he makes us both smile. We’re putting together a scheme for a long night together at the end of the month or very early next month, conveniently near the anniversary of my birth.
Sometimes being Bi and Poly certainly has it’s advantages.
This was a Wicked Wednesday post. Visit the Wicked Wednesday page to see other participants.
Stay SINful, friends.
Mrs. AP pounced me as soon as I walked into the bedroom. I barely had the words “Hello, My Love,” out of my mouth before hers was against mine, soft lips pressing insistently as her tongue dove for my my own. We grabbed each other — more of an assault disguised as a hug — and reveled in each other for a few minutes before she broke the kiss. Breathlessly she whispered “I had best dirty dreams and now I need you.” I was exhausted and nearly ready to pass out, my lower back was in complete agony, but those words stirred my crotch and made me change my mind about sleeping just yet.
We rushed the kids off to school and Mrs. AP locked the door behind her on her way back into the bedroom. In a flash her shirt and thong were on the floor. I gazed up at her from the bed in adoration as her hips swayed ever so slightly, her luscious breasts swaying seductively. I was transfixed as she leaned over and began deliberately stripping my clothes off of me. With some help from me I was soon as naked as her, my cock rising to salute her. As she slid up me to straddle my hips and lean forward to kiss me she teased her nipples against my hips, stomach, and chest. Oh what a tantalizing sensation that is, to feel just the tips brushing against me.
She settled against my cock, sliding her lips along my length, letting me feel her heat and wetness; her dreams had been good indeed! She was dripping already! She shifted slightly and with a rock of her hips grabbed the head of my cock and slowly slid herself down the length of me until her lips were resting against my balls. Gods, she was tight and nearly burning hot and had never felt better. She rose and fell on me slowly, both of us moaning and yearning for more… but in good accordance with doctor’s orders she slid off me to grab a condom and roll it down my cock before mounting me again.
I was on my back on the bed looking up at Mrs. AP as she came into the room. She smiled as her gaze caressed my naked form, the sparkle coming into her eyes with an intensity that’s been missing for over a week. In slow, measured movements she closed the door behind her and peeled her shirt over her head, swaying her hips gently as her delicious breasts emerged from cover. She tossed her shirt to the side and crawled onto the bed, her eyes hungry, her smile dancing dangerously. Her lips met mine with a ferocity that still surprises, amazes, and entices every time. Never have I ever been kissed by anybody who can put so much intensity and emotion into the seemingly simple sensation of pressing together two pairs of lips.
Her hand trailed down my chest, teasing all the sensitive and tickly spots before spiraling lower to brush against my hardening cock. I felt her smile against my lips as her hand wrapped around me and squeezed. My cock became her stress toy, her hand pulsing around me as she tested how hard she could grip me before I cried out in that swirling kaleidoscope of pleasure and pain. She pulled back, grinning a cheshire cat grin, and shifted to her knees before turning and lowering her tantalizing lips to the throbbing head of my rock-hard cock.
My heart will be with you.
Today I travel to Long Island, NY to work on a project for my client. Since my consulting work is still a part-time gig, this means I’m still working my “day job” overnight. The night before I catch the flight. I will have 2 hours to shave, shower, and finish packing before leaving for the airport to catch my flight. Yes, I will be cutting it close. It’s a good thing I know how to work an airport.
While I’m looking forward to being able to do the hands-on IT work I love, this trip isn’t a “there and back again” day trip. No, this time I stay until catching a flight home Friday evening. I’ve handled overnight (and longer) trips for work before. Back during my full time Corporate IT Support days I would often fly to Atlanta for 3 -4 days at a time, or go to NYC for 3 -4 days. Every 2 – 3 months I would fly to the company HQ for 5 days. I spent a week in Denver, a week in Salt Lake City, 3 days in Chicago, 2 days in Indianapolis, 3-4 days in Annapolis at a time, 3-4 days in D.C., and even a week out in San Jose. Traveling with no notice for extended periods of time is nothing new to me. What IS new, however, and what causes my internal conflict, is being away from Mrs. AP overnight.
It was one of those days today where I just didn’t want to wake up but couldn’t help feel inspired to do so anyway. How could I not? Mrs. AP was pressed into my back as my alarm went off, and all I could notice after I silenced that awful buzzing was that her breasts were full, warm, and nestles firmly against me. If that’s not the best wake-up call ever, I don’t know what is.
I rolled over to face her and we snuggled, kissing slowly, talking pillow talk, and reveling in this time that is just ours. Sure, the kids were home. Sure, the cat at the end of the bed voiced his objection to my feet moving. And, like clockwork, the puppy came bounding into the room to greet us as if we’d been gone for a week. It’s times like this I cannot help but laugh and embrace just how much better my life is now than it was 3 years ago. Back then, every day was a chore, waking up was the last thing I wanted to do, and laying in bed to snuggle with my wife was something that no longer happened. Mrs. AP makes my world brighter, and our family colors in the parts that were once drab and gray. I’m a lucky man indeed.
However, being assaulted by a hyperactive puppy that wants to assault faces, burrow under blankets, and generally pounce every bit of us that moves doesn’t allow for much in the way of romance. Really, have you ever tried to engage in a deep, soulful kiss only to have a small puppy nose trying to insert itself between the lips of you and your lover? Such a thing is neither as romantic nor arousing as it sounds. Ever. Ever the genius, Mrs. AP called Princess in and had her remove the dog and close (and lock) our door on the way out of the room. Perfect! Let the loving commence in earnest!
I waited in my car in the parking lot, nervously hoping time would pass faster, hoping that his wife wouldn’t be home, hoping. Would he be as hot/pretty as his pictures? Would he actually show up? What if he didn’t show?
It was in moments like these that I gave serious, grave question to what I was doing. I was sitting in a parking lot waiting on another man so that we could both cheat on our respective wives. I shouldn’t be doing it. He should’t be doing it. No matter how much we tried to rationalize what we were doing — we were both Bi with unsupportive (or in his case, an unknowing) wives who wouldn’t entertain the ideas threesomes of swinging — I still couldn’t fully reconcile that with my deep, shameful feeling of being a lying, cheating bastard. Yet there I sat, unwilling to leave. Like any addict with a gnawing need, I wanted cock. I wanted his cock.