Thunderstick

Martin

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Jay Chambers

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Why does our heart break, How do our brains not protect us. When we know that people disappoint us. When we know that people leave us. We know that people fail themselves. We know t

I invite you to a quiet, cozy restaurant, relatively empty, and the night is falling tenderly. The old clumsy waiter lights up candles while you’re reading the menu, and I admire yo

A Tale From the Shack

So recently I ended a relationship with a woman from Ukraine...and I wonder if her behaviour is what I should expect from others.

Can women accept that I help refugees?

True story . Memories from years ago with my loved one . Unfortunately she is not with us today , but the memory of her will always be with us who loved her.

Hot evening at home .

At 4pm we agree to meet downtown for dinner, we both agreed to find our own way to the destination and thought this would be a fabulous way to start our evening adventures. I though

A MEMORABLE MEETING

This happened so long ago that I could hardly remember how old I was, probably something near fifty. It was a dark and stormy night a few days before New Year's Eve.

The Boiler Room

This piece I found just recently when clearing the rubble in the garage. To recall it, that last date mentioned was followed by another laconic verbal sparring, a series of which ev

My Wife's Diary

Mountaintop hiking,
good food and unexpected heat…

The Picnic Date

One evening, as I settled deeper into my armchair, the monotony of the day seemed to weigh heavily on my soul. It was an evening like any other, marked by the quiet hum of routine a

Echoes

I first fell in love when I was sixteen. This happened at summer camp. The funny thing is that I didn’t even want to go there. I was going to spend those two weeks at home.

My First Love

Why does our heart break, How do our brains not protect us. When we know that people disappoint us. When we know that people leave us. We know that people fail themselves. We know that pain is inevitable and our heart still breaks every time. We can close our eyes and as the hollow feeling drops through to our core, we can smile and say nice things to the next person in our life, knowing how difficult each movement is. Why do we continue to connect with new people on such a deep level when we know all these things will cause such sorrow, is the pain of loneliness as strong as the pain of loss or betrayal.&nbsp;

Are we less hurt if we remain apart from others and allow ourselves to be less scarred by the disappoints of love and friendship. Loneliness is at least something we can understand and know what to expect, we can adjust ourselves as though adjusting to a new job or a new house. Learn to understand. Something that almost seems impossible with the ever changing relationship with another person.&nbsp;

A pros and cons list….. well my list filled with cons and therefore a lifetime of loneliness wins against a lifetime of betrayal, frustration, blame, sacrifice, loss, excuses ect ect….. we eat, we work, we sleep, we play. All is simpler by ourselves.&nbsp;

I invite you to a quiet, cozy restaurant, relatively empty, and the night is falling tenderly. The old clumsy waiter lights up candles while you’re reading the menu, and I admire your looks — you know how to get in style, classically. You’re flirtatiously touching me with your toe, your eyes saying, “Drop it!”. You order lasagna, and I go with pasta — never conversely.

Another whiskered white suit leisurely floats out in the spotlight equipped with a bottle of Chianti. His smile is of a Joker’s, and his eyes treacherously touch your bare pinky back with a tiny mole in the lumbar curve. Joker’s eyes are right on. I see a momentary change in his behavior but don’t care — such old pricks are never anything but a shabby pack of cards.

The cherry-red wine reflects the candle lights and your bust to my luck, and the glasses are clinking gently — no more words applied. Instead, your dazzling teeth show up for a moment, hidden by ardent lips, leaving a red trace on the glass edges after you sipped a little, keeping on staring at me. Memories seize my limbs. Just another flashback of how you tasted me first before we wasted the exact red wine three or even four years back — the same taste, slightly tart, with a delicate flavor.

I imagine a familiar arousal swirls around your abdomen, gradually spreading from toes to bows. Here's me sitting in front of you and looking at you admiringly. No hustle, no hesitation, no limit.&nbsp;

You are wearing a little black backless dress with a beautiful waterfall neckline, open lacy straps, black stockings, and no panties, right? I gently take your hand; you’re rubbing the glass leg, snatching my glimpse. As always, my palm is much warmer.&nbsp;

Your fingers are so cold, so tender — I gently stroke them, squeeze them with pleasure, and warm them. I’m leaning closer, slightly lifting your palm, and kissing fingertips, one at a time.

We sit silently, drink wine, casually finish the main course, and wait for dessert. I’m telling you how this dress suits you — your tiny shoulders are so beautifully outlined, and one of the straps drops — you hesitate pulling it up.&nbsp;

You praise my wit, as usual, but again, you never believe me and sweep away the lavish compliments I pay. Come on, I've never lied to you!! No way you escape me tonight — you knock me off my feet with your look.

Accidentally, I drop a napkin and notice your crotch between the widespread knees under the table. No panties there — I was right. God, I want to settle down here, lick your toes, bite your thighs, and sink in between your pinky petals. I notice the lacy edge of the stockings, which makes me horny. I lean closer, caress your leg a little… and feel your scent. I don't want to get up, but you ask me to — people are watching, for Christ's sake.

I look into your eyes, begging you not to torment me with your usual riddles. In response, you put both hands onto your knees, catching a waiter's dissolute glance. I wish there were nobody around. You're gently patting your knees, and your eyes touch mine again. Then, you ask me to lean closer — I feel a piece of silky lace in my hand and its warmth. The warmth of your magnificent body…

My bewilderment is your triumph; I take a deep breath. I am confused when leaving you pantyless and… defenseless and soon wholly defeated.

The plot never thickens: kissing in a lobby, patting in a cab, fucking at my apartment. However, this time, it does.

Once the cab lights disappeared in the evening haze, I found myself standing in front of the old shack with a door losing battle to a bark beetle. The place looks long abandoned. Is it a sort of temple? It's no surprise the door is locked. I was a little boozed up, so I tried to push on it with a shoulder — it finally gave way to us just after a few rounds of my humiliation. In a complete doom and gloom inside, I could hardly see you stripping. But I felt your lips, tender and impatient; I just couldn’t stop kissing you!! I never did…

Your tongue gets interlaced with mine, your lips are so delicate, and your hair smells so nice... You’re leaning towards me, and it’s damn worth each and every moment!!

I grip your hips, pull up your dress, and squeeze your firm buttocks like peaches — the scent of your juice, coupled with your fragrance, appears to dance graciously inside my brain. I squeeze your tits, enjoying their soft skin and shape. I vigorously massage your boobs so you could feel me under your skin. Your hair is messy, your cheeks are burning, and your lips are somewhat swollen outside. I’m fatigued already, but you aren’t even close — you’re ten years younger, babe...

I was afraid your little minx wouldn’t show up. Gosh, I was wrong!! You want me as much as I want you. I’m patting your thighs, your eyes are wide open — they’re just irresistible. I pick you up, and while you’re snuggling into my arms, I eliminate your bra latch with teeth. Your long pink nipples drastically cheered up, finally breaking the lacy shackles.

In the moonlight, I drop you down the smelly battered chair right in front of the window, almost seeing through your naked body. I could even savor the symmetry of areolas around each nipple.

Baby, you’re the wildest thing I have ever met in my entire life, and that’s why I never married you. But I know you still love me. You don’t fuck just to fuck. I’m exposing the groin against your head and running my fingers over your spine. I see your eyes twinkling and your lips poking out. "Come on, baby," I beg you, patience isn’t my virtue.

I knew it wouldn’t be long until you gave in. I move your head a little closer so that you don’t have a choice unless you sink into my balls. You make yourself comfortable in the chair, licking my genitals with your eyes closed. I grasp your ears, regulating the rhythm. You’re groaning like a real bitch.

My shaft goes back and forth right into your mouth, liberating your hidden desires. I feel the night's heat in you, and I love it!! You shudder slightly with the first push, like you’ve never done it before. You sit up straight in the chair, grasping my ass and taking it deeper with each new thrust. You swallow my balls, making rounds, giving each a thorough exam. I’m all shivering. You’re happy to examine my testicles and penis, penis and testicles. Some rough movements of your tongue tend to intensify my ending, but your tender lips make such a perfect compression around the tip that I don’t want to cum fast. Finally, I pull you closer by the hair and pour your throat with my liquid. Yeah, I’m done. Your turn, babe.&nbsp;

I got into your vulva, slightly rubbing your blistering clit. You're all wet, and I’m caressing you inside with smooth moves. You are so vulnerable; my power over you overwhelms me. I caress you more intensely; your loud moans turn me on more and more. Your beautiful breasts claim their glory in my filthy grip. You stroke my cock, I gently squeeze your nipples, massaging the areolas. Then, I ran your hand down to the clit so you could feel that moist of yours. What a lovely view!! You’re so good. I hope this tension between us never ends for years, but it's somewhat delusional.

I turn your butt around on the chair, poking against me. You grab the chair back, your knees stand still on the chair, and I carefully remove your red heels off your feet, which, for some reason, are still on. Your legs are gorgeous, with a thick brown down over the velvet skin. I tenderly kiss your buttocks, grip your hips, and begin piercing you delicately. You tremble, producing some inaudible sounds, which I assumed you were pleading guilty that way.

I set the rhythm, and you fiercely put your hole onto my penis. I keep an extremely delicate demeanor, my moves are balanced, and I want your sensation now.

Again, I gently squeeze your C cups so heavy I could hardly hold them, enjoying some natural elasticity and warmth. Your moans were louder as I continued exploring your tight shell. I felt natural heat inside. The soft petals enveloped my penis, and gently stroked it. I couldn’t help your shivering, but I guess you were cumming.

I let you rest for a moment, resting inside of you. We continued standing on all fours. I hold you tighter now, trying to kiss your back as much as my long neck lets me…heh heh.

We lie beside each other on the stinky carpet, now exhausted. You're so graceful in your nudity, relaxed, and enjoying yourself, even though it’s pretty cold. I gently outline your eyebrows and nose with my fingertips, stroke your cheeks, and caress your lips, bursting with kisses. You squint from my touches, and I look with pleasure at your beautiful, lush breasts with some swollen nipples. Your light brown public hair mesmerizes me like it used to all past years.

I feel sorry for damaging you, your labia and vagina walls must be sore, but you've been pouring out another date with all your juice, and that's how we're used to it, too. I’ll remember you stripping in the moonlight, seeping through the old broken window. I’ll remember your blue eyes permanently closed, gazelle long legs, gorgeous gown… And your words never said I will remember, too.&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

I glanced at my watch — almost 7 a.m. Tuesday morning. I was worried you would have to bring up the tiniest and the finest part of me in your stomach to our beloved hubby. Or you take pills? What d’you usually tell ‘im?

I've just noticed the splendor and elegance of the window frame, emphasizing the grandeur and elegance of the room. Four sculptured lotus flowers decorated each corner of the ceiling. It's obviously not a temple, but where else could one spot some real stained glass? I’m far from it, but it generally looks more gothic than Roman-style leaded glass. The walls are thin, and you see these lancet windows with arch tops in old Europe in multiple colors, usually black, brown, or red. Today, colors are faded, though. I don’t want our feelings going that way, too. I just can’t accept such a course of events.

At the outset of the Ukrainian invasion, I looked to help where I could. Through my businesses and contacts, I was able to send foods and other goods to help refugees and those escaping the bombs and missiles. As I own a number of properties, I also decided to provide three apartments to people needing to leave Ukraine, also providing work and support while they built new lives. So far, I'm hosting 4 women and have hosted 8 in total.

Anyway, while helping these women, I continued my search for a partner and met Lyudmila "Milly". From our first conversations, I explained that I was helping women from Ukraine in England and she accepted this, but had many questions. All of which I answered.

We met in Poland and I arranged a web call with the girls here and we seemed to have addressed her concerns. It was then that we decided that we would try to live together in England.

Almost from the first day, we had issues. Milly wanted to know why I continued to help these women. Why they had my number and could call on me. Two of the women worked in one of my restaurants and whenever I visited this business, she wanted to come with me...and I never refused.

After about a week, Milly asked me if I could find other jobs for the two women working for me...and I explained that due to their limited English, opportunities were limited, but I would speak with friends with other businesses. Then, after an argument, she told me that I had to throw the women out of the apartments and have nothing to do with them. I gave no belief that anything was happening with these women and allowed Milly to travel with me and speak with the women I help at any time.

I explained I couldn't remove the accommodation or work from these women and Milly became aggressive and violent. I had to call the police and had Milly removed from my house. I provided her with a ticket to return to Poland and told her not to contact me again.

After speaking with the girls I host, I was told that they were not shocked and I should expect this from other women. Now I wonder, do I need to look for relationships elsewhere, while I continue to host and help people who need it?

Milly was a really nice woman in many ways, beautiful, funny and usually happy, but I cannot remove the help these other women need. I wonder, am I wrong?

True story . Memories from years ago with my loved one . Unfortunately she is not with us today , but the memory of her will always be with us who loved her. 

I went to the bedroom took of my clothes and lied down.I like to lay naked under the cover. You came in . You started stripping, slowly..Your black dress wich you look so sexy in fell to the floor .Your black stockings that covered your legs, that lace bra and panties also black , was hot on you . You look so amazing in everything you wear honey, and you always turn me on.You came to the bed and sat down.I moved towards you..I put my hands around you . My hands started caressing your breast ...Oh, I love your tits, perfectly shaped for my hands. I undid your bra, it fell to the floor without a sound.I continued to stroke your now naked breast, I felt your nipples getting harder from my touch. I teased the nipples, my fingers pinched them....I kissed your neck, while I moved my right hand down your belly , further down. My hand reached the front part of your panties..You felt my cock on your back, how hard it got being so close to you. You turned around embracing me tightly your soft breasts pressing against my chest. Your erect nipples felt so good on my skin....And we kissed, a deep hungry kiss. Our tongues danced wildly...lips parted but close.My both hands moved down your back,  to your firm ass...I slid them under your panties and stroke your buttocks , ah, the feeling of your soft naked skin drives me wild. My right hand moves to your right leg, to your inner thigh...I inserted my hand in your panties and rubbed your smooth pussy, the clit... Your pussy is so soft and wet honey....Honey, stand up " I said" I pulled down your panties and kissed your wet pussy . I tongue fuck you and lick your juice for a while, God you taste so good . You moaned , I could tell you liked my mouth between your legs ....Suddenly you push me down on the bed. You started to stroke my cock, fingering it slowly, teasing me. You feel how hard it gets .You begin to lick it , all along the shaft, up to my now swollen cockhead . You put it in your mouth and start sucking....Mmmmm you know how to turn your man on....While you are sucking me, my hand is stroking your now very wet pussy , I put two fingers in your hole , In and out, so slippery ...My thumb is teasing your clit. While your tongue and lips gives me heavenly pleasure ...... Honey , " I say " Ride me, please.....Sure baby " You say " With pleasure . You sit down on me, slowly you sink down , all the way ... My...my " I say " The sensation of feeling your wet , slippery pussy around my erect cock , all the way in . You start riding me. Slow at first and then faster . Seeing you on top of me, your tits and the sweet feeling of your divine tight pussy caressing my swollen hard cock . I want to fill you , explode in you , Ride me baby !!!! I want to cum inside you ... I feel how wet you are, your juices drip all over my cock and pelvis ... I love it .... Fuck me honey , faster....harder ...Feel my pulsating cock....Ahhh I am coming baby ... feels so good .....Come with me .... Squirt all over me ... Feel how I fill you with my sperm..... Let me lick you clean after.....

I have read a few responses, the choice to be alone is not always an actual choice but more of a choice of acceptance. I accepted the fact that I am alone and that I always will be alone and that it is much easier to be alone. For having people close to invites pain into your life. Most people let you down and hurt you anyway. So why continue to search for something that has a high chance of suffering... Good luck to those who find others to care for them. Love is rare. Death and taxes inevitable.

Lonely is not always a choice 

At 4pm we agree to meet downtown for dinner, we both agreed to find our own way to the destination and thought this would be a fabulous way to start our evening adventures. I thought instead of taking the car I would take the transit system, unfortunately this time of day rush hour was starting and the buses were packed full of people.

I got on the bus and there was no room so I had to stand and hold onto the hand strap to prevent myself from falling over. At one stop the bus hit the brakes very quickly and I was moved into the person ahead of me, it was embarrassing because I had a hard dick and the person in front of me was a women. I thought to myself she must have felt my cock press against her ass from behind, I was embarrassed. But pretended it did not happen.

A few stops later as people were getting on and off the bus, this women reached her hand down and without anyone looking purposefully grabbed my cock then let it go.

This is crazy I thought to myself, but I never acknowledged this because I know I was meeting the love of my life Lidi for dinner downtown and i am very loyal to her. As I got near to my stop the bus was even more packed and now and I was almost against this women and she could now feel my big sausage and she kept pushing herself back on purpose so her ass would touch it.

Finally my stop approached and I got out, I turned around to see where this women was, and she was now on the street in front of me. I shook my head and thought to myself what a crazy bus experience, as I got close to the restaurant I called you on the phone and you said you were already there. As I entered the restaurant I saw you sitting inside waiting for our seat. One thing I noticed was you had the same coat on as the lady on the bus... it turns out that was you!!! You just looked at me and smiled and laughed.

Just then the waitress showed us to our seats. We sat in a private booth.

The waitress came over and you ordered a nice wine and I had some ice water, just after the waitress left the table I could feel your bare foot start going up my leg towards my balls ,and I was surprised and aroused at the same time. Finally your beautiful foot was rubbing my cock, and I was so hot that cum was dripping out of my dick hole. You looked at me and said, David I want you to shoot your load on my foot right now!!&nbsp; I couldn’t believe this…….

I undid my zipper to expose my cock under the table, we then held hands across the table and looked into each other’s eyes, and it was magical. At the same time that you were stroking my cock with your foot you started to sense I was so close to releasing my juice.

The waitress came back with our drinks just as my juice started to shoot out, I made a loud noise and it scared her, the waitress sat our drink down then smiled at you and said ‘you are a very lucky women’.

After eating we got up and walked by everyone and no one even noticed my juice on your foot.&nbsp;

This happened so long ago that I could hardly remember how old I was, probably something near fifty. It was a dark and stormy night a few days before New Year's Eve.&nbsp;

The snow fell, making up snow banks about twenty inches high, accompanied by a violent gust of wind called a real arctic blizzard. Or, it could be that my memory is exaggerating the stuff. But that is not the point.&nbsp;

It was my shift in the old boiler room where I worked. I was called urgently because another operator who was supposed to maintain the things that night suddenly got sick. I was glad the shift had dropped out of the blue: there would be no inspections at that time of the year. And I hoped to get a good nap after setting things up.

The boiler itself was ancient, but the pumps were pretty quiet. The stormy weather couldn’t leave me alone, banging the large windows.

I was about to lie down when I suddenly heard the doorbell ring. When I unlocked the deadbolt, a vast white coat flew in. Looking closer, I recognized a spinner from the mill. No better idea came to my mind of what brought her here but the weather itself.

She looked something around forty, as I say — was entirely covered in snow and, apparently, completely numb. Since I quit drinking a long ago, I could easily smell alcohol — she was wasted. However, I stepped back as if inviting my Snow Queen to come over to the light of my shack.&nbsp;

She looked startled, if not surprised, watching me take off her crusty coat as if she had expected me to be someone else. Suddenly, I heard her confident and soft voice: she said she had missed the last bus and was heading up downtown and wanted to warm up a little. She walked deeper into the light of my room, looking around discreetly. Something told me this was not the first time this woman had been there.

I remember awarding her with the loveliest smile I could ever make of myself. She looked like a plumpy provincial working woman with impressive curves, a fatigued round face, and very sensual puffy lips.&nbsp;

She was dressed poorly — a shabby wool dress enveloped her heavy posture. The dim light did not let me observe her body accurately.&nbsp;

I took the lady by the hand and led her to the sofa. I had nothing to offer her but a cup of tea. She was silent; not a word I’ve heard from her ever since she shared her story briefly. And I was not a prying type.&nbsp;

It was a real heat inside, so she fell onto the sofa and seemed to fall asleep immediately. The pumps circulated steadily as the blizzard howled, but she seemed to care less. I threw my sweatshirt on the floor, lay down, and finally was ready to nap...

I was woken up by my guest lying next to me and kissing my face and eyes, kissing my lips. I wasn’t expecting such a course of events but hoped for it deep inside. Who am I kidding? I felt awesome.&nbsp;

All that was left on her was her bra — no panties whatsoever. I have to confess I haven’t touched a soft female body for quite a while since the divorce. She was very sensual and quickly responded to my moves.&nbsp;

I had never been a big fan of heavy chicks, but this time, I was totally knocked out by her looks the first moment I saw her. With my right hand, I touched her large butt and, with the left squeezing her huge tits incarcerated in that old bra. We never stopped kissing. Her red lips were mesmerizing, and her hands visited my body's nooks and crannies in some kind of magical dance. And suddenly, a wave of arousal washed over me. For some reason, she seemed like a humble and sensitive girl.

She looked terrific lying all naked on the floor. She was a real gem. She sat on top of me, but being quite a big guy myself, I did not feel any extra load above myself. I grabbed her juicy buttocks with my hands to synchronize, not daring to take my eyes off the heavy breasts perpetually shaking. The intensity of the movements increased. Two enormously gigantic silhouettes interlaced on the wall in some contorted moves. After a few minutes, a vast love spasm ran through my body from tip to toe.

The boilers hummed, and the blizzard moaned. It has never been that hot in the boiler room...

The following day, waking up, I didn't recognize any sign or a scent of an astounding creature visiting me yesterday. Or was it just a dream??

This piece I found just recently when clearing the rubble in the garage. To recall it, that last date mentioned was followed by another laconic verbal sparring, a series of which eventually led to the beginning of our official divorce process (assets, liabilities, income, expenses, etc.). That misery I felt reading it has been pursuing me until now. I almost have forgotten her facial features, though. However, it’s not that simple, given the flamboyant looks. Those days are gone, washing away my sorrows and blurring my grievances. An immaculate dream that never comes true. Did she love me? I never had doubts about that, and I still don’t. It’s probably my inborn rigidity that constrains me, building fences around my pathetic self. No affection, even to people you care about, cannot last for ages. A hard heart longs for solitude. Nothing but these memoirs that helped me find peace of mind.

Home alone. Again. Over and over and over… ain't it funny? Am I just a fuckable fancy doll? It’s so convenient, for Pete’s sake. Well, the story of my life. I’m too stupid to get a job. Ginger means it when she calls him a snag. But is it his fault? Chores never divided, I know where I belong. But I feel empty inside, like a bubble going up in the sky, flying solo as usual. What a short path from “you're my everything” to just nothing. That's crucifying me.

Today, I got a strange phone number glamorizing dust on the rear windshield for the second time. The number is different now. This I remember well. First, I thought it was a butcher's boy, Andy. His stupid pranks of a kind that had driven me insane have come to naught since he met Sally. Besides, he was just sixteen back then. Burning with curiosity, I wrote it down in my notebook instead of wiping it off. And I dialed it right there at the gas station. It was Sammy's. Weirdly, a guy with whom we attended the math class. We never dated or anything alike, nor did he have a crush on me. But his tone was quite intrusive and persuasive, so I just hung up. It’s the second time he's been intruding during a month, I believe the first message was his doing.

8 a.m. My beloved husband is already gone. I couldn't sleep a wink. Sammy's voice didn't get out of my head. I thought I had nothing to lose if I saw him. Besides, nobody cares about what I feel and what I do. Hell, I’m going to call him again.

2 p.m. Agreed to meet in the back parking lot behind his office building. Funny, but I recognized him; he was so cute, and I couldn’t help but hug him. I was just small talk like “you never changed,” and so on. Then he said he'd better be going back to work and suggested we meet Friday night or any time convenient. I hugged him goodbye and felt my body move in for a kiss. Amazingly, I couldn’t stop it.

We began texting after our first date and seeing each other much more. Lyfo's, pizzeria in the mall, Cedar Park by the town hall. Today, we drove into his house just a block away from downtown. Without hesitation, I'd give myself to him, but nothing happened. I’m still so happy today and can’t stop smiling.

My husband was called off from work. All the morning hours were spent sitting in the darkness of our tiny living room. Saying no word, just sipping coffee. He's usually on the phone 24/7 when he works from home. He then told me his dad would stay with us for a few days. I can’t stand the old man, nor is he very flattered to see me. My father-in-law is a douchebag. Besides, he's the boss and always hurts many people. What's even worse is that he's got no respect for women. That's what I hate about them both, the way they think it's their right to treat a woman they do. Gosh, they're worth one another and the life they live.

To this day, I’ve been extremely hesitant about sharing all that happened to me almost three weeks ago through paper and ink.&nbsp;

For better or worse, it’s never caused disgrace deep in my heart. But again, in no universe, I've ever thought of cheating on my husband. I believe he hasn’t, either. Three weeks have passed, but I still don’t feel even a hint of guilt or anxiety. Although, whenever my memories bring me back to the scene, I fall into silent hysterics. That's why I'm writing it down.&nbsp;

Recollecting events, I'm still feeling horny. I think my panties are wet, and my nipples swell any time I remember how Sam is different from my husband. Sammy and I couldn’t hide that sexual tension between us any longer. It was Sammy's birthday. We decided to celebrate it at his home. We had time until 6 p.m. when I had to rush back home to the other side of the town.&nbsp;

I'm lying barely naked on Sammy's bed; my eyes are shut. He's gently getting rid of my pinky panties and starts pulling my clit with his finger. He’s kissing my stomach and below the waistline. I'm trembling from tip to toe. A delicious languor is stealing over me. It didn’t take long until I felt that impulse inside. He was thrusting me like I believe he’d never done to any woman before. Gosh, he's got a really gigantic shaft with a huge purple tip.

Those days I'd been grateful for my hubby are long gone. It wasn’t even his size but the entire process, quick and sort of detached. Always the same missionary position, slow moves, but at the same time, always in a hurry to get somewhere God knows where.&nbsp;

It's been entirely different with Sam. It was never a routine like you know what the odds are. No lustful glances, no hints. Just instincts without a word. Sam never was flirting with me, no, because I didn’t want to and wasn't used to it. I’ve never been used to massage or even simple caressing. I once thought I'd never closed my eyes with my husband, just as I had to keep him under control. I know it sounds stupid, but this is how it works.&nbsp;

Sam grabbed me by the hair and started going deeper, but now from the back. That was the first time I was taken from behind. I was on the edge and just moaned and then murmured something stupid.&nbsp; Suddenly, Sammy pulled his dick out and came on my back. I didn’t know what to do but didn’t care — I had already come for the second time. It was a more substantial and much longer culmination than the previous one. It may sound dry only because I lack proper words to describe everything.&nbsp;

Then, after a few minutes, Sam laid on his back and asked me to ride him like a horse, or I’d rather say — a stud. I chuckled and closed my eyes; I felt only pleasure that seemed everlasting. A few minutes later, I came again, so powerfully that I passed out for a moment. My pussy was burning. That’s about it.&nbsp; What’s done is done. No regrets now.

It is a
bluebird Montana morning in early June. The air is crisp, cool even with a temperature
in the low 40s. My new partner is visiting, and we are meeting for a hike up
the mountains behind my house. She arrives about 11 am. As I greet her, I smile
as she hops out of the car beaming with a vivacious natural beauty. We hug and
I ask about her trip, she smiles and says it was delightful because now I am
with you! 

After a brief
conversation and putting on hiking boots I grab a heavy backpack I prepared
especially for her arrival, and we start up the ridge behind my house. The air
is warming but it is still cold as we pass through shaded woods, smelling the
fresh pine scent and brushing the last of the morning dew against our legs. We
float up the trail without a care in the world.

Climbing
higher and higher we scramble up a slope of loose rock. I have her go first and
place a push up on her tight muscled butt to steady her progress. She glances
back with a mischievous grin saying: “thanks for the hand”. In about an hour,
we reach a high promontory with endless, breathtaking views. The Gates of the Mountains
lie to the north showing what Lewis and Clark would have seen as they explored
the upper Missouri for the first time.

The view to
the south reveals a majestic scene. The high mountains are still draped in the
glistening embrace of winter glory, snow-capped and shining for our viewing
pleasure. My partner turns to me with a tear streaming down her cheek, uttering
a soft—oh my, thank you so much! 

I lower the
backpack of goodies off my shoulder and wipe the sweat from my brow. Within is
a thick Pendleton wool blanket that I spread on the smooth rocky slab. The
breeze has dropped almost completely as the sun beams down upon us. What
started as a cool spring morning is becoming unseasonably hot. I pull out a
bottle of a fine Oregon Pinot Noir and pour 2 glasses into wine tumblers that I
had carefully wrapped for protection during the hike. 

We carefully
set them aside to breath and the wine to open so we could enjoy the full
flavor. I take out an assortment of fruits including huckleberries,
strawberries, a sliced honeycrisp apple, various cheeses and a smoked sockeye salmon
fillet. The wine had opened, and we take our first sip and gaze into each other’s
eyes. We eat the delicious and delicate food slowly and savor each bite,
kissing slowly and passionately in between each course.&nbsp; 

The sun is
beating down on us now with an ever-increasing intensity. We were over-dressed in
the cool morning air, but now our bodies continue to sweat profusely from the
intensity of the hike—or is it from the rising passion within us? Beads of
sweat form at the hairline of my exquisite natural beauty’s face…the droplets
shining in the sun. We embrace and slowly remove our sweat-soaked clothing
until only under-garments remain.

We lay
outstretched on the wool blanket holding hands and staring up at the trees and sky
feeling the warmth of the sun on our exposed skin. We talk for hours meandering
gracefully and seamlessly from subject-to-subject sharing hopes, dreams and
ideas in a stream of consciousness that is ethereal as if we are floating in a
distant world. 

We continue
to enjoy the wine and the food is now gone. Almost out of nowhere the sun has
plunged out of the western sky revealing a sunset like no other. A few clouds
have formed on the vast horizon and the evening alpenglow is popping with an
endless aura of pinks, oranges and reds streaking into the building night. The
last brilliant orange crescent disappears behind the horizon, and we suddenly
emerge from the trance that had enveloped us realizing that darkness is fall
and we have no headlamps. The descent off the ridge in the dark would be far
too dangerous.

My girl gives
a deep look into my bright blue eyes, and I feel a hunger in her stare that
penetrates straight to my heart and all the way to my toes ignited a heat in
other parts along the way. We have grown quite close but have not yet
experienced all of each other. The temperature is falling but we refuse to
dress. We have the wool blanket and our body heat to keep us warm. I can see
her ample breasts rise and fall with each breath and there is a seductive bounce
from her pounding heart that shakes the lacey bra covering her bosom. 

We hastily
fumble to strip away the last of the skimpy garments separating us from total
connection. We make passionate love like two teenagers fucking for the first
time. We hold each other tight quivering is a tantric orgasm neither of us has experienced
before. The night air of the high mountains is now very cold as the inky black
of night descends upon us. 

We look up
at the stars surrounding us in a glorious splendor. It is as if we could reach up
and simply pluck one from the sparkling night sky. We hold each other close and
wrap up in the wool blanket…with all the warmth we have ever needed and talk
the entire night, never sleeping, never letting go of each other and not
wanting the night to end…

One evening, as I settled deeper into my armchair, the monotony of the day seemed to weigh heavily on my soul. It was an evening like any other, marked by the quiet hum of routine and the silent passage of time. Yet, within the confines of my quiet room, a surge of emotion stirred within me, an urgent need to voice the story that had remained untold, festering like a wound beneath the surface of my existence.

I reminisced about the days when ambition fueled my every decision, a time when pride overshadowed the need for simple acts of kindness. She was the antithesis of all that I embodied—a beacon of light and love so pure, it seemed she had been crafted from the very essence of happiness itself. Our youth tricked us into believing we had an eternity ahead of us, but I was too engrossed in my own world, too blind to see the treasure I was neglecting. We were young, both of us at the threshold of 30, believing we had all the time in the world. I was too caught up in my own pursuits, too blind to see the love I was squandering.

She wanted more than my love; she sought my attention, my presence, my acts of kindness—elements I failed to provide. My realization came too late, only after she had decided to walk away, leaving a void so profound that all my subsequent efforts to fill it proved in vain. The warmth of her presence, once a constant in my life, had become an elusive memory, impossible to recapture.

Decades have passed since then, each day a stark reminder of the love I let slip through my fingers. The sound of her laughter, once a melody to my ears, now haunts me like a specter, a reminder of what I've lost. In my quest for redemption, I endeavored to become a man worthy of her love, yet the stark reality is that without her, I am merely a shell of the man I once aspired to be.

They say time heals all wounds, but some cuts are too deep, too profound, ever truly to mend. I miss her, not just the joy of our past but the future we never shared, that we were never afforded the chance to explore together…

As I penned down these thoughts, the silence of the room enveloped me, the rhythmic patter of the rain against the window serving as a mournful accompaniment to my reflections. My tale, a narrative of love lost and the enduring shadow of regret, echoed in the stillness, a somber reminder of the fleeting nature of happiness and the consequences of one's failings.

I've learned too late the value of kindness and the importance of giving love and oneself wholly to another. If only I could turn back time, I would do it all differently. But life doesn't afford us such luxuries. All I can do now is live with the echo of my mistakes and the absence of her love.

My tale, a reflection of a man looking back on a life of missed opportunities and unfulfilled love, ended not with a conclusion but a quiet resignation to my fate. It is a story of what could have been, a lament for a love that once was, and the enduring ache of a heart forever marked by its loss.

But for mom and dad, returning from the resort and finding their home ruined was a nightmare. Unfortunately, my lousy reputation made them think so.

That's how I ended up at the scout camp. There was nothing but kayaking and canoeing and evening bonfire parties. But this trip was the best getaway as I hooked up with Zoya, probably the hottest chick I’ve ever met in my lifetime.

I fell in love with her at first sight—and I was her first crush, too. She was a tall, slender blonde with the rarest striking green eyes and smooth, tanned skin that made everybody crazy. And she had these soft, fluffy, pink lips that I could kiss forever.

She used to wear white shirts, and I loved her V-cut shorts. During that fortnight, I couldn’t think of anyone else. But she had many pricks around her that drove me insane, though. For example, Zoya wouldn’t have to execute the art of eyelash batting to get anything she wanted. On the brink of an eye, another spotty volunteer will show up with her water or ice cream and take the best place on the beach by her knees. Her only glimpse would be enough for any guy to stand up and run. At the disco, many curious guys stood in a line, anticipating their turn to rub or kiss her on the cheek. Zoya’s gorgeous face and voluptuous body did their job.

However, she was cold as ice with all. Including me from the very beginning. She naturally was like that. It seemed like she allowed everyone to show signs of attention, but she didn’t single out anyone. I managed to invite Zoya for a slow dance. And the one that followed after. Never switched. Held her tight.

After swaying with Zoya, I insisted on buying her some ice cream and bought ice cream a couple more times.&nbsp;

The most exciting memory is how I rubbed sunscreen on her back the following day, though&nbsp;

I left the camp with a broken heart. Zoya and I lived in different towns, but we didn’t dare ask for a phone number or address, but I never forgot her.

I couldn't get her out of my head and thought about her day and night. Of course, it was childish. I had plenty of other classy and filthier women, but Zoya's eyes have captivated me until now.

Even when I started dating girls, none of them aroused such bright and robust feelings as Zoya did. I don’t know for sure, but isn't it a trace of the first feeling, the most gentle and genuine, left in our hearts?

When I turned twenty-nine, I married Jenny. Jenny was an avid reader, extremely intelligent, savvy, calm, and pretty. She was a good wife and great mom, and she still is.&nbsp;

But there was no spark of passion in between. We were good friends, nothing more and nothing less. Unfortunately, I was stupid enough to trade that God-given lady and peaceful life for eternal solitude and… memories that got me and will follow me until the day I die. But those days were long. I was still young. Somehow, I thought I was a player, and the life of a family man made me sick. That's how infantile I was.&nbsp;

For Jen, it took little time and effort to make an ideal wife in this regard: to babysit our daughter and me 24/7.

She never gave a damn about my fondness for partying and carousing. My week-long hangovers, numerous side affairs, gambles, and so on and so on and so on—all that didn’t bother her.

My buds could call me late at night. I could take off without a word right there where the providence pervaded me.

Jenny was stupid enough never to blame me for all the sins I committed. She managed to keep the house clean and cook so well that we seriously considered capitalizing on her talent! What amazed me the most was how Jen managed to cope with her nursing shifts with that poker face she developed through the years. Did she love me? Oh, well, how did I, a narrow-minded sexist, never having much faith in love, know? In love with yourself, you usually neglect the feelings of others.

A few years later, when my business proved some stable growth, we decided that Jenny should quit her job. With more free time, she’d dedicate more time to our baby.&nbsp;

But one evening changed everything. I went down the street to a bar with my friends. And I met no other gal but Zoya in the flesh.

More than twenty years passed, but I recognized her immediately. From a beautiful girl, she turned into a beautiful woman. She had gorgeous platinum hair, and her impeccable figure was favorably emphasized by a short red dress.

I reminded her about those old days in the camp. She laughed and said she’d never recognize me. That evening, I did not leave her out of sight. We exchanged numbers, agreeing to meet during the week. We lived in the same town, which was a shock for me.

It’s no surprise that I didn’t even think about my wife the days I was seeing Zoya. Jen trusted me like a mother trusts her kid. For me, she personified something that was never connected with sex. But Zoya was different. I couldn’t stop thinking of her that night.

The next day, I invited her to a fancy restaurant that Jen had never been to. I noticed a dozen of dirty eyes watching her.&nbsp;

As I wrote, we started seeing each other. A month later, I told Zoya about Jen. She wasn't happy with that at all and insisted on a divorce.&nbsp;

The avalanche of stupidity is growing up. I left my family for Zoya, a woman I had hardly known. We settled down by the beach, and for so many years, I felt happy with a woman I thought I loved. I did anything Zoya asked me to. I felt like a baby. Spending sprees, fancy restaurants, and anything she wanted, like we were sixteen again.

But with time passing—just a few months, actually—I’d noticed my dream woman was only interested in my credit card. She’d never ask how my day was or listen about my problems at work. Her eyes lit up only when I gave her something. We were complete strangers—totally empty and superficial sex addicts.

I came home in the evening and told Zoya that I was having problems with my business and would have to file for bankruptcy. She felt sorry for me. Nothing more or less. When I left for work in the morning, she was gone. She left a short note saying that we couldn't be together.

Jen never forgave me; she had the right to do so.

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