Skip to main content

Beloved at Hand

Daydreaming about penetrating into her field of investigation as I watch her lusciously brush the red onto her newly tended fingernails. Cuticles trimmed. Nails filed to a delicious point now shimmer in the candlelight.

 I dream on.

She smiles. She knows that she and only she has this effect on me. Others found me a chore. Hard work for hardly a reward. Just thinking of her makes me board. Hard as ... that is. Her scent so near has me nearly bursting out my barn-door. Kicking my stall. It is all I can do to keep my hands off myself. She knows. She delays. Her lips pucker as she gently blows the wet red polish. Not to hurry the drying but to tease me more.

She gives me a fleeting glance. She gives my crotch a longer look. My hand precariously close in anticipation rests on my thigh. A nod from her I would be out and taken by my own hand. Instead she raised her index finger. The index finger that will smear the pre-cum around the knob on the throbbing tip, looming above her trailing three fingers that will encircle my now steely staff.

Soon pray I to my beloved.

Her teasing index finger metronomes a negative.

"Soon," she mouths silently.
Labels:

Comments

  1. AnonymousMarch 10, 2018 at 11:46 AM

    A beautiful write that left me breathless

    ReplyDelete
  2. Beatrix_BJuly 2, 2018 at 10:24 AM

    Wow! I loved this! Who'd have thought a manicure was such an excellent way to 'cure a man' of impatience!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Fun House, Wherehouse, Their House / The New Barbarians

November 1 Of all my nineteen years, last night was the strangest Halloween ever. As my brain reels from memories lost, repressed, or other. Only one question roils through my brain: How did I end up in Spain when all I really wanted was to be in Tami?  Tami finally said yes and we went to a concert last night. Sure it was with her two friends Jo Jo and Maryann and there two friends, Ralph and Joe. But after a whole summer of leering at her tiny little frame as she would pass through the warehouse where I worked, her delivering papers to the shop from the front office where she worked finally paid off. She had to be the smallest, yet perfectly femininely proportioned, woman I had ever seen. Frizzy shoulder length hair, two perfectly firm and round breasts just right for her frame, and the roundest, smallest keyster I had ever viewed, often clad in tight jeans with a large star detail etched in denim on each buttock. Oh, the possibilities I imagined as she would sw...
3 comments
Read more

Pass Around Joy - 4 Moke-A-Joint

The Nanny Ride The ride home with the Nanny was indeed frosty. Not only since I had driven there with the windows rolled down to air out the spacious double couch design of the Bonneville, hoping that the scent of other women and male splooge would be whisked away on the wind. Now with the heater on the atmosphere within was still frosty. “So that guy must be used to giving their Nannie’s a ride home.” I said sheepishly. “No. I am their first nanny.” she said coldly, adding “They had an Au Pair before me.” “An oh pair of what?” I asked trying to weasel my way through with humor. Au Pair. A. U.  P. A. I. R. silly.” The Nanny giggled after a brief attempt not to be thawed. “Some foriegn chick that lived in and cared for the kids.” she concluded. “Cozy.” Was all that I could say as I imagined a foreign floozy in the family home. “Maybe too cozy.” The Nanny added cryptically. Not cryptically enough as the tableau of the wife looking anx...
2 comments
Read more

Wherehouse Tamara

Tamara She was barely over five feet tall. A big head of long curly shoulder length hair. She would, as we all could, wear blue jeans to work, My favorite pair had stars on each bun of her tiny behind. They wiggled and winked and twinkled at me every morning as she passed through the warehouse from parking lot to front office. That’s  where she worked. I would make sure I was positioned where I could watch her well formed tiny tits bounce in their often braless state beneath sheer fabric in the summer. I enjoyed the round enhanced garment heftiness in her winter attire as well. But the real treat was her tiny round  be-starred behind. The way her long dark curly hair bounced in rhythm around her shoulders in her jaunty trek through the warehouse made mornings better than the somewhat nasty morning brew that came out of the coffee machine. But spending the rest of the day flinging boxes and filling out shipping forms was filled with visions of me ravishing...
Post a Comment
Read more