Smut With A Smirk

For once I was grateful for a Saturday morning rehearsal. It was the last week before the musical extravaganza opened this coming Friday. I was able to leave my hungover trio flopped around my coach house without complicating my love life further. Perhaps the long drought before my recent relationship made me insecure and unwilling to pass by the bounty of this theater season's harvest. Or more likely it is a young person's endocrine system thinking for his limbic system. All that aside with both Beverly and Joy being at this all day rehearsal my juggling act will get a workout. Since both women were stage crew they would be particularly busy on this last week of prep when so much has to come together at once.   Once backstage I was first greeted with a nod from Joy and no more. She was about her business flying scenery so with a nod back I had completed check in number one. Furtively. Beverly was another story. Greeted with a big hug and coming in for a bigger kiss a...

I confess, I was in serious decompression mode from the events of the last year or two. I had lost everything but myself. But try as I could I couldn't shake me. Not only was I operating on a serious chill-axin deficit, I was in the throes of beloved withdrawal with no recourse but to keep my dear one in my thoughts, prayers, and dreams. Neither one of us had the space to share in our lives as we had once enjoyed. As had happened at certain points in my life, even though I now lived crosstown, I returned to the scene of, while not crimes, questionable choices and activities at best. That would be an understatement. Many inexplicably joyous moments. So much uncalled for and unnecessary hurt both inflicted and received within the corridor like walls of this once dive bar. Now reborn and expanded into twenty first century sports venue drinking and watching splendor.  Perhaps a bit disappointed with Reginald tending to the bar today without a JoJo in sight I was undeterred. Bu...

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 trailin...