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, reassuring 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 I 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 onto my pants.
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."
As I lay on my bed, thinking about you, I feel this strong urge to grab you and squeeze you, because I can’t forget last night. You came to me unexpectedly during the balmy and calm night, and what happened in my bed still leaves a tingling sensation in me.
You appeared from nowhere and shamelessly, without any reservations, you laid on my naked body...you sensed my indifference, so you started to bite my body without any guilt or humiliation, and you drove me crazy while you sucked me dry. Finally I went to sleep. Today when I woke up, you were gone, I searched for you but to no avail, only the sheets bore witness to last night’s events. My body still shows your marks, making it harder to forget you.
Tonight I will remain awake waiting for you...as soon as you appear I will quickly grab you and won’t let you go, will hold you with all my strength so you won’t disappear. Won’t rest until I squeeze your blood out....you...
As you lie back your muscles tighten. You put him off for a while searching for an excuse, but he refuses to be swayed as he approaches you.
He asks if you're afraid and you shake your head bravely. He has had more experience, but it's the first time his finger has found the right place.
He probes deeply and you shiver; your body tenses; but he's gentle like he promised he'd be.
He looks deeply within your eyes and tells you to trust him-he's done this many times before.
His cool smile relaxes you and you open wider to give him more room for an easy entrance. You begin to plead and beg him to hurry, but he slowly takes his time, wanting to cause you as little pain as possible. As he presses closer, going deeper, you feel the tissue give way; pain surges throughout your body and you feel the slight trickle of blood as he continues. He looks at you concerned and asks you if it's too painful. Your eyes are filled with tears but you shake your head and nod for him to go on. He begins going in and out with skill but you are now too numb to feel him within you.
After a few moments, you feel something bursting within you and he pulls it out of you, you lay panting, glad to have it over. He looks at you and smiling warmly, tells you, with a chuckle; that you have been his most stubborn yet most rewarding experience.
You smile and thank your dentist. After all, it was your first time to have a tooth pulled. (Thx for sharing this one and letting me post it Jasper! :)
It’s over, done, fini. Our affair at best was half-baked. All I really wanted was my dough. I kneaded you. I was young, untested, full of sugar and spice, and kneaded love. You never buttered me up, or even sent me a flour. All you ever did was mix me up. I was nuts about you. I hated being treated like a tart. I wanted to be more than the frosting on your cake. I measured up. What was the batter with you? I’ve been burned. I knead time to sift through my emotions. I’m putting my heart on the shelf to cool. It may never rise again. So flake-off you crumb!
(as seen in a recipe book)