This just in, from my Dad in Smallerville:
He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone. He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, assuring voice close to my ear.
"Just relax."
Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing, and moving upward along my calves, slowly but steadily.
My breath caught in my throat. I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure. When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and partly closed my eyes. My pulse was pounding.
I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage. And then, as he cupped my firm, full breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply.
Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties. Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant.
This is a man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking 'No' for an answer. A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say . . . .
"Okay ma'am, you can board your flight now."
Nice-C***-block. I was so close...
ReplyDeleteLOL! This is tame compared to some of the stuff I've written.
ReplyDeleteI remember in high school I would read some of these books so I could read about sex. Can you say "sexually frustrated closet-case"?
ReplyDeleteOy...
Suddenly, I want to book a flight somewhere.
ReplyDelete