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Blogs > wickedeasy > wicked and that ain't so easy |
It was something else.
It was something else. One day when I was young, I was sitting by the Charles River contemplating whether I would leave my current useless lover, smoking a cigarette. It was hot but not that hot. I had on this gypsy skirt I had pulled up to uncover my knees, leaning back on my elbows, hair a mass of humidity driven curls. Me, cigarettes, a key on a chain thingy around my neck. Kind of a mess. A guy in a suit sits down next to me, reaches over, curls a piece of my hair around a finger. I know, right? I look at him like hello, back up dude, and he leans in, kisses me. This is when I should have left. Instead, I find myself staring at polished black shoes, thinking what is going to happen next, don’t say anything, drag on the cigarette, grind it out in the grass. He stands, offers a hand up which I accept. We walk companionably together along the river. The sky begins to darken, I feel the first rain drop hit my skin as we start across the bridge near the stadium. Within seconds, it is a downpour. In the middle of the bridge, he pushes me back against the stone, his mouth on my neck, his hands lifting me off the ground. I feel his teeth on my shoulder. Grabbing my hand, he drops me, we turn, run for shelter, feet splashing through puddles. The air is dense, thunder rolling now in long cascades. Under the abutment of the bridge, I breathe in and out, trying to find some words, finding only need as he takes me, as I come with one leg wrapped around his waist, the other seeking purchase on stones slippery with lichen, dripping with rain, my skirt pushed up around my waist, draping everything. Savagely demure. The sound of his climax seconds after mine was all I had of his voice. The gentling of his touch as he helped me up the incline…the softness of his hand on my cheek as he walked away. I burst out laughing as I ran back across the bridge down the street where I fell into a bar I knew well. Poor drowned rat was given a bourbon and a towel before being sent off home. I strutted, I owned the world. You can say what you will about it. I might have been killed. Dude got lucky. But for me, at that exact moment in my life? It was something else. You cannot conceive the many without the one. |
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In todays PC world, that would of had lawyers involved, compensation, and maybe the book, years after. Those days were different. Plus, you walked together, run together, companionably. And you must of smilled! The momment in life? Frying pan on the back of the head, penny dropping, the revelation, were some of the words I was gonna use. But I am not. i think it was The turning.
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Very good wicked. Sometime you just have to take an adventure. Hugs V Become a blog watcher sweet_vm
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That delicious moment that ended well but for at the time could have ended any which way and you were the goddess of sex at that moment... kk The observant make the best lovers, I may not do right, but I do write, I have bliss, joy, and happiness in my life, Kitkat Come check out my blog KItkat1415 check out this post by me Adventures In Body Grooming #39 April Topic Link: What Lies Beneath If April Showers Oh Bloody Hell What Kind Of Weather Turns Me On Bloggers Symposium 40
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The interest, intrigue, excitement, the thrill, risk, the adrenaline rush and the release. What more could you ask for in a days adventure? So did you stay or go? Vive La Difference
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That was so hot... and I rarely say that and mean it. I'd love to have an experience like that, but as the man, it would be risky. . Legally. It's a classic Erica Jong "zipperless fuck" scenario. . So sexy!
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A different place, a different time! A very Hot Story! Thanks WE Visit my Blog Older but no Wiser and find out more
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Something else indeed. Hiya.
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I can picture the rain falling on the banks of the Charles and the outfit you have on- exquisitely written!! What an experience to cherish (Virtual Symposium Group) use Virtual Symposium Group
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That is so very hot! Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale Her infinite variety. Other women cloy The appetites they feed, but she makes hungry Where most she satisfies. For vilest things Become themselves in her, that the holy priests Bless her when she is riggish. ~~ from Antony & Cleopatra
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3/31/2017 8:07 am |
dang, that s ballesy.. and hot.. face piles of trials with smiles.. MOODY BLUES please feel free to visit my blog happy blogging
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