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| Blogs > rm_johntaylor74 > On the great voyage home |
A novel in 10 posts... part 1
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A novel in 10 posts... part 1 Instead of just pondering whether I had the time or inspiration to begin writing again after all these years, thought I would trot out some of my old work and see if it inspires me enough to write something new... so, I invite anyone who's interested to follow along (and comment) as I post portions of an erotic short novel I wrote long ago as a request from someone I was chasing after -- back when I still wrote for fun and for romantically erotic reasons... Part 1 - Getting There From Here There are those moments when you think to yourself that this will probably live in my memory for as long as I need it to be there. Ready to be called up to comfort me or excite me or bring me back into the world again when the darkness takes over and has pulled me into a chasm. Sometimes all that memory need be is of a smile, or a drop of sunlight as it danced its way through the window pane and warmed you as lay saddened by a cold winter's day. Other times, that memory must be of something more. Of a moment you felt on top of the world, buoyed by some great accomplishment, or the praise of a friend, or a lover. But more often than not in our little world, separated as we are, even when we join with another, it must be of the memory of a lover, and of a moment so powerful, no one else existed but the two of you, where your lust raged so strong, there was a vulnerability that you would only allow touched by that one special person. For me, this particular memory was of a beautiful brunette, and a warm summer day we spent together. Together, but often separated by people and circumstance. The day started out with some promise, but nothing like what I had expected, and maybe that is why the memory was even more cherished, because it was something that wasn't planned, but a fort¡uitous series of events that built upon one another to become a moment that has stayed, and I suspect, will always stay in my memory. She was having a picnic with her family on Toronto Island and invited me to join her. It had been awhile since I had seen her, circumstance being what it was, she worked nights, and I days. It left us with very little time in between to ever get together as we also had distance separating us as well. I wanted to be able to hold her in my arms again, if nothing else, as the setting being what it was, we were somewhat limited to pursuing anything else... or so I first thought. It was an unbearably hot day, humidity drenching you in sweat and the heat just sapping every sense and every reserve of energy you had -- but I had felt strangely energized on the drive up. Before I had left, she had called me about a dozen times, just to be a sweet nuisance, saying a few random naughty things and just generally acting on her nervous energy and the joy of knowing we would be able to see each other again soon. I arrived in Toronto just in time to miss the first ferry that was loading, and then the second because I was a bit too polite to push my way past the sweating throng. Finally I boarded the third scheduled ferry, and was one of the first ones on the ship (which allowed me to quickly find myself a suitable parcel of floor space that I would defend against all foes). I put on my best insane face to frighten off any who dared try to usurp my spot or the surrounding personal space. For added effect I proceeded to drool -- an easy task as I simply thought of her breasts, so large and inviting, with just that lovely ebb downwards to prove their authenticity. Then there was the slight upsweep of the areola and nipple when they became erect, which provided such a wonderful mouthful that I often couldn't keep my lips to myself. Sometimes I would sneak up behind her and cup her breasts with my hands. She was content to have me hold her in this way, but I wouldn't stop there. We always had a bit of teasing aspect to our love, even in romantic or erotic moments. And so I would rub each nipple, circling round it, teasing it to an ever so sweet erection that I could then free from her clothes and lick at incessantly with my tongue... long strokes that sent tiny spasms through her body... building to a peak... and then I would walk away and leave her like that. I would always come back mind you, as soon as the periphery of her orgasm had been backed away from; only to do it again, bring her to that apex, and let her fall again. The torture was sweet and had a purpose. It was a technique I named the Crescendo, where you brought your lover multiple times to that point of exquisite ecstasy, then pulled back... each time raising that bar a little higher, until her whole body tingled with expectation of an orgasm, and finally when I would bring her to one, she truly felt it, in every part of her body, her soul, she would cum so hard and so massively strong, it would sometimes overwhelm her, and her whole form was left so sensitive, with that quivering tingle caressing her for hours to come. And yet, even with the satisfaction of that release, of an orgasm so built up over the course of our lovemaking, as the tingle began to subside, it left one with a feeling of wanting even more. An intense desire to feel that orgasm again, so fierce that it would consume you if you couldn't have it again. But I seemed to have digressed within my own digression. It all started with those wonderful breasts... She loved for me to suck her breasts as we made love, too. It was a centring feeling for her, that kept her in the moment and made her orgasm more powerful. She was one of the few women I knew who could orgasm when the man was on top, and orgasm she did, so unbelievably powerfully, that she would literally scream. Up until that point she was quiet, although occasionally whispering something naughty to me and wanting me to be even more so. It was as if her soul returned to her at that moment of orgasm and her screams were of joy and salvation in one. Sex was tied to spirituality and faith for us, making any and all sexuality, so much more involved. It wasn't just a physical act, but a spiritual one. One where you conceded your entire being and very soul to the passion. I always knew when she was about to cum in that position as she would pull my head from her breasts and station it above her face, and her hips would tip upward towards me, lifting me up slightly... and there would be a tingle that started in the tip of my cock, from the shiny purple head, through the centre of my body. It was a ripple of energy that started from the sensation that she was feeling, a little tremor that spread through her whole body and then the floodgates would open and her release would be so intense, like a torrent itself crashing through the walls of a dam and she would claw at my chest, scraping new lines in it, drawing fresh blood that she then licked and sucked from my chest, leaving her warm saliva behind, coating like a salve on my wounds.... As I stood there on the ferry, almost catatonic, holding the railing, slightly hunched forward at the waist, hips jutting slightly forward as well, looking something like a question mark and a some slobbering dimwit at the same time, I again became aware of my surroundings. As my mind returned from its temporary erotic journey, I noticed that the lady to my left who had been carrying on a conversation with me during the whole time had run to get one of the crew, thinking that I had gone into some kind of trance and was in need of some assistance. As reality began to intrude on my consciousness again, my mind was confused by the surrounding chaos that had suddenly invaded it. I began to ask myself the question, "While I had been standing there˙ holding the railing and drooling, had I been thrusting my hips forward as well?" A sudden feeling of utter panic gripped me... just how would I explain this to the police when I was arrested for lewd and lascivious behaviour, and unlawful fornication with a metallic object? Explain to my lady and her family, picnic basket clutched in their now bloodless hands, all of them staring at her, wondering where she had ever met me? And, a further thought gripped at my heart, were there nearby that had witnessed me doing this and were now permanently scarred by the slobbering idiot who had been humping the ferry railing? Much to my relief, it seemed that I had been totally catatonic, making no movements whatsoever, which is why the woman had gone to get help. I swallowed hard and tried put that moment behind me, tried to find a smile, in my now fading panic, with which to greet my lady. Of course, I really hadn't needed to worry, for as soon as I saw her standing in the distance, tight jeans showing more than intended (the seam of her jeans pressing so tightly against her warm folds, that they spilled out around the seam and defined just where my the aim of my hips would be when I greeted her). An even tighter t-shirt fought for its own attention, and helped bring me hard and strong to my own attention. As I approached her, a new worry arose: would the rest of her family see just how happy I was to see her? She came running up to me as she saw me, half innocence, half in her own search to satisfy that longing and lusting from not seeing me for over a month. As she moved to embrace me, she also expertly directed me behind a trailer that was parked nearby, so we could greet each other a little more privately, with only the worry of being accidentally happened upon by her family, being the anxiety, instead of our lust being shown right in front of them. Her tongue forced its way into my mouth and explored feverishly. My hands dropped from her back to just below her the symmetrical mounds of her tasty little bum, raising her to my waist and spreading her legs open at the same time. The bulge of my now fully engorged penis stroked the tight denim cloth that was protecting her warm, wet slit. She wrapped her legs around me and squeezed me in tighter, my hips now thrusting almost involuntarily, pinning her against the trailer, as I rubbed the full length of my cock up and down the crotch of her jeans, like some idiot without a compass or a map, trying to find his way home. Her hands gripped my ass, almost directing my hips in their attack on her; her tongue danced with mine and her breasts pressed so invitingly against me. I longed to feel her firm nipples against mine, feel the delicate flesh as they traced their way across my chest. I was lost for a moment in that scene, thrusting into her, the waves of passion now spreading through her pubic mound, with each thrust, as I feverishly rubbed the tip and the full length of my cock with such force up and down her lips and clitoris; lost in the shallowness of her breathing, her warm, wet tongue inviting me to go further, her hands now caressing my face, mine rubbing her breasts, as we both neared that wonderful moment, and could feel the sex rise up from within us... and then we heard the sound, "...what are you two doing over there?" as her father called out, stopping us in that moment... and providing us with a memory that we would hold onto through the day and tease each other with, right in front of her brothers. The morning was spent like that, flirting dangerously and stealing moments right out in the open. Teasing each other and putting the other in threat of being discovered. Like the silly game of two teenagers, it was so delicious, that shared moment that joined you and sequestered others outside your boundaries. She would innocently put her head near mine then turn quickly, in a flash, and suck the soft flesh of my lobe, and lick my whole ear. She would bend over near me, ever so slightly rubbing her nipple against my knee, and trace it over my thigh, high up towards my waiting penis, then pull away, and smile at me mischievously, knowing that I would have to take a moment to recover, and confront the looks on her family's faces as to why I seemed so flushed. Indeed, for what else could I be but flushed, reliving the memory of being able to wrap my cock in the soft inviting skin of her extraordinary breasts, thrusting away for all I was worth, and her urging me to cum, wanting to see me cum, and giggling sweetly as I did... as I covered her chest with that warm and sticky mess? And she would smile up at me as if she had total control over my soul in that single instance... In return, when she bent over the next time, I positioned my hand so the very tip of my middle finger could gently swirl around her nipple, ever so gently teasing it to erection. I could see her jaw tremble at this, caught off guard by what I had done, and she swallowed deeply trying to stop that feeling. That tingling that didn't just stop at her breasts, but that spread right down into her little pot of honey and made her normally want my tongue in her mouth, to ease the passion and lust that would build up inside her... but what could she do at this moment? To make matters worse for her, I was soon provided with a wonderful opportunity to push the boundaries of our game a little bit. As she was bent over getting something from a cooler, I quickly glanced around and noticed there was a single opening in time where everyone was occupied, and unable to intrude upon us. I came up behind her, and in one swift motion, reached under her to the sweet little button of her clitoris, and quickly rubbed it with tips of my fingers and then splitting my fingers to trace the deeper tissue of her clit buried just underneath and around her vaginal lips. She leaned back into me, her head resting on my chest, as I continued circling and rubbing and teasing her little button, and teased her further with my tongue buried firmly in her ear, whispering to her how much I wanted her right there, right in from of her parents. I straightened her up a little with my other hand, so as to hide what we were doing, as in the near distance sat her mother, now unexpectedly watching us, but she could only see her and the strange looks on her face, not my fingers making her 's face tremble so, as I dragged my fingers back across the full length of her slit, and felt the thick denim of her jeans grow soft with the moisture of her juices... how I wanted to taste them, to let my tongue play in the soft sweet folds of her pussy, to lap at them and feel her cum all over my face as she thrust herself into me with each successive wave of her orgasm. But I had to keep my own composure here, and instead traced her labia again with my fingers, with just enough pressure so that she would feel it, be brought to desire, and harden the spongy tissue underneath, but not receive the satisfaction she craved from it. I pulled my fingers from her moist little snatch, turned to her eyes with my own mischievous smile, licking my fingers first, then hers. In that moment you could almost hear the silence before the screams that would normally begin... and I caught her scent and it made me take a step back, and the realization of how much we wanted each other in that moment, really hit home. She pulled away and tried for a moment to rub herself against a table to get some relief, but somebody called out to her to get a drink or some other such mundane thing like that, and she was forced to regain her senses and return to this little boredom of a picnic we were being subjected to.  |
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