Something astonishing.

So I was listening to a comedy on in the background while doing something else; writing, most likely. When I stopped. And looked over at the screen.

On it, an actor was speaking to an actress in a bar. Nothing unusual about that. But as they spoke to each other, and the scene continued, I stared at the screen.

That voice! I knew that voice.

I stopped the tape, started it again. No, it wasn’t him. No, wait, it was!

I listened to him again. And again.

It was close, really, really close. Some sentences were spot on. Some were not.

I kept listening, over and over. I wasn’t sure. I’m still not.

Have I just figured out who Bourbon_Neat is?

A Hot Release

It’s hot. But the country seems to have given up any attempt at a temperate climate. So it manages to be hot and wet at the same time. The tickle between my legs is driving me crazy, and I cannot believe the number of hours I have to get through before I can be alone with my passions. All I can do in the meantime is to imagine.

 

 

My house is quiet, my room is silent, the curtains drawn. Outside my window there is a hot air moving through the trees. I close the door behind me and finally, finally, get to be free. I start by unbuttoning my blouse, which today is a blue strip dress shirt I’m wearing, over grey slacks. I slip off my shoes while I undo the cuffs, and then unzip the zip.

 

It takes me moments to take out my toys, my friends, from the bedside drawer. My dildo isn’t the longest one in the shop, but instead has a girth that would make a virgin’s eyes water. I’m down to my briefs (black, nearly always black) and sink down to my knees.  I sink down, sink to the level I want, the level I need,  and on my knees I get to want you out loud. I get to do that wonderful thing that happens so rarely, I get to fucking gratify myself, over and over. It’s so small but it seems so much, to just answer the need that burns over and over and over….

 

You’re in my ears, of course, but the images in my head are strong too. On my knees I part my legs, and imagine myself sliding over you, teasing you. I love the idea of straddling your hips. The sheer sweet delight of a male hand undoing his fly, parting boxers, briefs, what have you. All the while I tease you with my cunt. I’m dripping, right now, all wet, and moist like the air out there, and I can imagine you here staring at me, begging me with your eyes to gratify you too.

 

My dildo is my centre of gravity, my everything right now, and I have no need to wait. I part the soft white lips of my pussy and I tease my already-tight clit with it. Oh, how I wish you could hear me moan! I offered, but no, you’re good, it seems. And now I have only myself to keep happy, as I let the tip of my friend ease its slick way to my cunt, let it fight the tightness I present there, until it pushes in, and my hot muscular pussy wraps itself around it.

 

Oh, sweet fuck….

 

My head goes back as you pound my cunt, my ears, semen and sperm and lust itself ejaculating into my ears and my body, my tight ass moving back and forth with each thrust. Gratification, fucking gratification of it! My blood boils between my legs as the passion and the need speeds up, unbuckles itself and springs free from all restraint. Once, at this point I took the headphones out, and the slickness! I was wetness and passion and fucking greed right then. Oh fuck me, just fuck me, it’s wrong to want anyone this much…

 

Finally, the blood bursts. Something kicks my lower spine and I fall forward, head resting on the side of the bed, lungs resting, all collapsed and spent, while you cum in my ears, and cum and cum…

 

And then, for a short while, I can think again. But not for long.

 

And all this is waiting for me, today, waiting for me to get this part of the afternoon done, and to finish, and finally, finally, get to fuck you in my mind.

 

warm breeze by agnes-cecile

A Unexpected Coda…

It has been a long, hot day. The weather is crazy, it’s avoided even a breath of wind. The air itself is panting in lust.

 

 

I find myself distracted thinking about you. I find myself thinking about you at odd moments, when the mood takes me… You’re such a distraction, it has to be said. You’re that moment of playing footsie under the table with a very fuckable stranger… You’re the sweet sensation of my thighs rubbing together. You’re the glimpse of perfect cleavage, the pant of perfume. You’re a man with his suit jacket off, his forearms showing… You’re the glance of a stranger at the lights, and the second glance too. You’re the feel of my back against the wall as I’m being roughly kissed…. You’re fingers in the dark, finding me wet and ready, begging, in the cinema. You’re the lips on my neck as I beg for you. You’re my cunt, throbbing for you as I listen to you.

 

At home, I walk into the bedroom and unzip the navy dress. I strip off my tights and take out my toys. Kneeling in my black bra, my knickers pulled on, I fuck myself over and over listening to you.  I am greedy, listening to you, fucking myself, over and over in that stifling room.  I have you fuck me, over, and over, and over, while listening to this.

 

Only this time, I pressed record.

 

And if you want to hear, all you have to do is ask…

 

A Prose Lullaby

I know someone who finds it hard to sleep. This is written to help them towards getting some rest. 

It is a wonderful summer’s evening.  One of us knocks on the other’s door and we head out together, clad in our dark waterproof gear. Neither of us say anything very much. The mood is one for silence both within and without.  We don’t even need to make eye contact, just to walk and to be companionable in the silence.

Our walk is special and spacious, it winds and flows about us. The birds talk to themselves as we go past, our movements not bothering them.  We brush the outskirts of the tree-covered hills, but wilderness is not the thing today. Instead, we head down again, into the parkland, where we will let the path playfully lead us along its way.

It winds like a circling tale, but ultimately brings us further down the hill, to a slope we can feel in our calves. We touch the trees on the way down to steady ourselves, each crackled bark made soft under our palms. Again, neither of us talk much, or need to. Instead, we just walk together, letting the fancy take us as it might.

We come out an old door on to the canal walk, a deserted place. The stream that flows by us is busy, and in a hurry, all bubbles and gurgles as it goes. The sun is giving its last efforts in a low-lying burst, and our eyes hurt from its strength. For the longest time, we stroll, watching leaves and twigs float along with us.

Your hand is near mine. Neither of us take the other’s. It is not the right ambiance to allow it.

The stream broadens in just a few yards to a river, with wide banks. It’s glassy broadness pulses along at a stronger, but slower, pace, and we find ourselves slowing too, until we come to a stop. There is no particular reason to pause here over any other sight, we just do. Soon you sit down, on a fallen tree, and I do likewise.  Our hands do not touch, and we do not speak.

It grows darker. The sky moves to a sombre navy, and swifts with their sharp angled wings swirl above us. And we sit, and we breathe, and we watch the river. And we do not say anything, nor ask the other to say anything either. The moon glides silently above us to sit, and to shine, and to guide the river’s way.

And we sit, and we watch the river, and we do not need to say a word.

 

Night night.

Just because I don’t contact you directly…

Does not mean you are not in my thoughts.

You are very much in my thoughts. More than I would wish.

 

I hope you are well.   I will let myself drop a note soon.

A Perfect Thing

There is a beautiful moon over my window tonight, a full white face of light looking into me. It’s making me reflective, introspective, even.

 

Ever have something happen that was so good, so amazing, it was a little overwhelming? As in, it was almost too much and you weren’t sure you were up to it? That was me just this weekend. Something out of the norm happened and I found myself unsure of what was the next step, if any. I simply didn’t know what to do, or if I was up to the new demands I wanted to place on myself. I don’t consider myself a weak person but I am a somber one, and unusual moments mean I need time to adjust.

 

Anyways. I took myself off to the woods for one of my long walks. Spring is finally here, and with Easter it seemed like the world was finally awake. All our trees are budding, small pink tips beginning to show, and everything looks both softer and more vivid.

 

Sitting under a tree, considering a cat padding through daffodils, I was reminded of bonsai trees. They are tiny, but realistic down to the last leaf. They don’t live in the real world but that is their aim, the constant cultivation is what civilises their gardeners. They are not a lie, nor a fiction, but a truth told in a new way. Nor do they take over a life, but instead are a moment of fine, oh, so fine, precision within it.

My overwhelming moment became, as I sat there, a recognisable and negotiable point of connection in my life. All things change, and it is wise to see that as is a good thing.

 

Wherever you are when the moon sees you, my lovers, the sweetest dreams and the sweetest kisses.

There’s water everywhere…

It’s raining here today. Big globs of water dripping off surfaces with a cold air that invades under my coat, next to my skin. If you lifted your head to it there would be tickle-thin drops on your lips, and on your eyelashes… And I’m walking in it, letting it touch my face, letting it to anything it wants to, while all the while I do my best not to pant, and not to give in yet.

Insides all aquiver, anticipating, my lover.

Please can we play?

I just want to play….

This weekend…

I find myself wanting to see the sea. It’s not that far from here, the sea is never more than 52 miles from you when you’re in this country.

 

 

I just want to sit there, bundled up under something, and listen to the ocean. Remind myself that there are bigger things.

 

 

 

I wish you peace this weekend, and rest, whatever you’re doing.

A Late Night Fantasy

This is what I have been unable to stop thinking about, when I should be getting on with my work;

You’re late home again. It’s happening a lot lately, work is insane. I miss you, to be honest. I’m a grown woman, I can take care of myself. But  I haven’t seen your face in what, five days? I miss making eye contact with you. I miss just hearing you around the house.  Our contact has been me recognising your weight in the bed at night. You’re always gone by morning.

Tonight, I give up at 11pm, the book doesn’t grab me. I put myself to bed. I become aware at some point later that you’re home. I can hear you moving around downstairs. I’m half asleep, vaguely aware of you. You come into the room, and I can tell by the shape and sound of you that you still have your coat on, your suit. The bed shifts as your weight hits it, and I half turn towards you in the dark.

But instead of sleeping, things are different. You smell different. Your lips are on mine, a kiss with no introduction, no solicitation. You’re kissing me, a kiss that is hungry and almost feral, and in moments I reciprocate. Oh kiss me, yes, those lips my love… we kiss in the dark, me still half asleep and you still in your coat. We kiss each other over and over again, and I know I’m trying to savour that smell of yours again, the one I’m crazy for. Your hands are on my shoulders and you turn me even more towards you, and I try to reach for you to pull you close.

But instead, you pull back the sheets covering me in a huge, grand gesture, spinning them high and up until they fall onto the floor at the bed’s end. You slide further down the bed between my legs, and, lifting up my silk slip, put your head between my legs. You put your tongue between my legs, my warm, dark, wet pussy already wanting your face and your tongue right there.

And you start, a slow, andante-paced spiral of licking me out, starting from my pussy lips which are soft and wanting, moving through to my clit that spasms with each caress of your tongue, down to my wet little cunt, that you tongue fuck with a precision that tells me you have been thinking of this all day. Imagining this, all day. You’re still in your coat, your shoes on my sheets as you slide, and dive, and caress each inch of me, a corkscrew path between all my points of wanting, of desire, and you are completely silent to my cries that go higher and higher as I fall underneath your spell again, go insane for you again. You give your own response to me eventually, growling against my throbbing clit, my throbbing cunt, as I come close to cumming, but don’t, yet. Oh jesus, I’m so close, but not yet. I can feel the sweat at the nape of my neck, my hands are on your head as it bobs between my legs, but not yet…

Together we slide you out of that coat, finally you kick off those dress shoes, and zipping down your fly you push into me with a hunger that is huge. Oh, god, huge, yes, I throw my head back as you enter me, my cunt wet with juices for you, and you push and push and push into me over and over again. You push into my want with a furiousness  I cherish. Fuck I love this. You grab my shoulders as you thrust, and you pound into me, pound so deep into me, your own voice rising above us as you thrust, telling me to cum. Cum now, Catherine, cum right now, goddamnit!

Oh finally! I burst free of it, spiralling down and down, and you cum too, shooting so deep into me, your own pounding so hard I’m afraid the bed will break, breaking, falling on top of me, sweat and breathe and panting, your weight delicious, your wetness delicious, I’m such a slut for you, always a slut for you, darling, my darling… The shoulder of your suit is pressed into my face as we try to breath, try to calm down, breathe, breath…

In the dark you shake off the remainder of your suit, gather the blankets, and your skin comes back to me to lie on me, us two falling asleep without another word. Finally we both fall asleep, with just the warmth and the silence and the dark of our passion, this beautiful passion, finally spent.