(This story is inspired by a prompt idea from Sierra Kummings – great idea, thanks!)
“Your timing sucks” her voice was rather distant. She had no desire to restart the travesty of this tryst. Weeks had become months, and right now as she was just entering the freeway for the Poconos she could not believe the irony of the moment. Paul, the guy who brought her through the winter doldrums had called her out of the blue. She regretted telling him in the early moments of the conversation that she was being ‘ordered’ to the cabin by her husband. Paul was incessant, yet she was long past the need of his manipulation to assist her waning sensuality.
“I can be there by midnight, I really need to see you” he said, his voice the pleading tone of a 12 year old missing his favorite toy. He spoke of the planets being aligned, and then he magically whispered he missed her tits in the worst way. Yeah, Paul always had a way to go right for the romantic jugular. Jenny was now convinced. She thanked him for the surprise call, and then kindly asked him to please lose the phone number. Knowing his penchant for paranoia, she knew she wouldn’t hear from him again, and with a disconnect, she was alone with Mark Knopfler jazzing up the beltway to the family cabin.
A year had passed since the last time she and Spencer had been to the cabin. She imagined the wine, the candlelight, the passionate embrace of a man she feared she no longer knew. She loved him because she wanted to, not because she had to. Their children now college bound, were healthy and happy, yet, somehow things with Spencer had been drifting for months. Thus, Paul came into the picture at the perfect time. Her workload had increased with the online sales, and she and he put in many long hours, the kind that eventually make it ok to bang each other on the conference table to end each night before dragging home to their own separate lives. Spencer had his own delicious legal aid at his bequest for weeks before she’d decided to take the leap. Then came the accident. Somehow seeing him hanging on for dear life reminded her of the man she’d fallen in love with decades earlier. When he came out of the two week coma, he recognized her and smiled. Together they chose the quaint reality of their second chance and decidedly moved forward, dedicating their time to each other. The only thing still missing was their sex life.
The drive moved from late afternoon to the setting sun peeking through the mountain vistas. She would arrive around 8 PM, and the surrounding area would be relatively remote. Vacationers were not quite ready to overwhelm the area, so her peace would be her own. She imagined uncorking a bottle and a lone yard chair and the sunset.
She then imagined her fingertips, unconsciously sliding along her inner thigh while she planted her left foot on the dash. She wondered if she would show any lonely men and then motor away on the freeway in the next couple of hours. A smirk came across her face, and her fingers traced a new dampness on her panties that would gradually soak themselves by the time she hit the gravel of the cabin road. Smiling more, she realized how relaxed she was already, along with feeling remarkably horny, but not for Spencer, nor for Paul, here is where the yearning returned, and she couldn’t figure out why. She loved to touch herself casually while driving, always careful to maintain her dignity to passersby, knowing that later she could finish in the privacy of her land.
By the time she hit the gravel her fingertips were soaked. She slid her fingers out from between her legs and wiped the dampness off on the hem of her sundress, chuckled a bit at the fade in the material in that very spot where her juices would often be discreetly taken care of after a long drive. To the onlooker you would never know by the paisley design of the fabric, but she knew, and this was exactly why she wore this sundress for the drive.
The cabin was dark, windows open, sunlight streaming through the maples and pine. Their neighbors were a quarter mile away, the trail hadn’t been groomed so she knew the area was deserted. She pulled up the car, stepped out with an overnight bag and keyed her way into the dark cabin. The smell of winter mixed with spring pine was evident, and her serenity began to take hold immediately. The stove was readied with kindling so the light of a match began the slow purr of a delicious evening of relaxation. The covers were pulled off of the summer furniture and thrown in a corner and she laid herself on the couch and finished her travel’s in a matter of minutes, explosive, wet, an animalistic moan of such strength she later smiled at the beauty of her privacy in the middle of the woods, entertaining the animals. She closed her eyes and was fast asleep.
What felt like hours slipped by, when she was awoken to laughter. Her nervous response caused an immediate need to cover her nakedness, pulling a wrap around, she stood up to look out to the wooded lawn. What she discovered next would be a certain reality that would now move her life toward that journey she’d been trying to figure out for months, but just the surreal nature of the sight caused an immediate calm – Sarah Murray was lying back in a lawn chair, a copy of Anais Nin open on a naked thigh, her legs open to Jen’s eyes, another hand twirling her hair, and that infectious smile she’d missed for so many years, since the day she’d hung herself from the clothesline in the Murray’s neighboring back yard.
“No, no I can’t. I must be losing my mind,” she thought to herself. She couldn’t get over the general peace that had suddenly come over her. She should be terrified, but instead, she smiled and began to move toward the screen door, keeping Sarah in her sights …
(to be continued)
This is a difficult post. I have some friends here, that when you read this, I don’t want you to be concerned, just know this is the aftermath of my thinking.
I am tired, it has been a long year. I’ve struggled with depression in mounting furies throughout the last few years. When Robin Williams took his own life, I began to wonder about how long he coped with his own affliction. However, clearly the difference between that gentleman and me is vast – he is an entertainer, one that touches the lives of many. I touch the lives of a few, a large enough few that my actions are important to all of them. I guess the Robin Williams analogy only speaks to how a person in a vulnerable state of mind would make choices based upon another’s actions – however distant or close they are to that individual. It is the inspiration that can be tiresome.
Today, this day, I have struggled with depression and anxiety. I actually formulated a plan in my head. One that I will no longer carry out, but the fantasy of it, was rather horrific. I’ve tried to determine the onset – I believe it is mostly situational, but there certainly is the chronic side of things, that piece that never really departs, just perhaps goes on hiatus some days more than others. Today was a day, when the visit was rather wrenching. I imagined the quickness and that scared me a lot I suppose. I’m writing this here, because no one beyond a couple of my bloggers knows me in the actual capacity I lead in my normal life. Most of you know me as a struggling writer trying to find an avenue, a niche, a purpose to tossing these words around.
I am compelled to write about this here, because you are a safe audience, and I am noting that many of you struggle with the same illness, persona, state of mind, and for that and your words I am grateful. I spend most of my days influencing people younger than me about the importance of staying alive, living through our struggles, but I seldom explain or reveal to them how tired I am when I go home, and how much I would rather sleep my weekends away.
Today, I want to thank a couple of bloggers. They will go unnamed for their own anonymity, but to suggest my life is so miserable to want to put an end to things, is a bit selfish – a reality I have always espoused around tragedies that I have had to attend under similar circumstances. Those stories are the words that caused me to reflect upon my own worries, and realize there are far greater torments all around us all the time.
I appreciate people sharing their lives here – their real lives are far more important than the daily read of which, we sometimes have to reconsider the value. The real words, those that reveal our innermost fears and wants and hopes, those are the ones that allow me to sit back and say, yes, I will go forward, because that is my responsibility. I will allow my demons to come along for the ride, yet always be conscious of their own fallibility in their efforts to bring me down.
I appreciate your listening audience, and wish you all a bounty of … words.
Ok, so I’ve been welcome to the opportunity to create an identity in this site. In a word, this has been a fabulous outlet for my seamier side. I feel excited that I have had an intriguing venue to turn on a lot of people here, if that has been the case. I originally began this site to remove the more sensual material from my more public site. I named it:
Along the way, there were some unfixable bugs on that site, so recently I began transferring material to this present site. I guess the purpose of this post is to explain my motivations.
In my writings here, I’ve been able to play with a lot of what is in my head all the time. This site has given me a lot of freedom to explore my fantasies, my insecurities, my beliefs, and lastly my provocative state of mind about the beauty of ‘woman’ as I do love her persona. Inevitably I have wanted everything I write to help me piece together the elegant nature of my lovely partner of over 25 years.
In that time, I’ve written a lot of poetry, that though I would love to, cannot share with my spouse. I do not fault her for this, I believe this is all on me and my inability to communicate my needs to her over the course of our marriage. The bonus has been my ability to tap into my sexual desires has enhanced our intimacy more than I might have ever imagined. Yet, there is that lacking need that brings me back here to satisfy my needs. A rather fascinating aspect of this site, and all of the ‘WordPress family’ that delves into their darker side, to me is the penchant to touch on that which we are told to be taboo. In here, the freedom to spark the lascivious is rampant, and remarkably enticing. I find myself imagining the delicious worlds of the many people that write phenomenal erotica here, and I am left with envy sometimes. However, more gratefully, I would suggest that your story lines have allowed me to take liberties with my own secret passions.
I love the delicious and provocative nature of woman, and I will be the first to admit that I do objectify the female gender. Ironically, there is a lot of opportunity here on these sites to emphasize that objectivity, so that said, it brings me to my primary thoughts with this writing. I am thankful there are so many delightful women here, wonderfully comfortable in their own skin so that a very satiated man like myself can continue to put effort into writing that simply (hopefully) brings pleasure.
I want you to feel delicious and desired. In a manner of speaking you’ve let me try to do that. However, I remember the first few writings I delved into vulgar aspects of descriptive words, and though some was received positively, I always felt that really wasn’t me. I know today it is not. I have a tremendous respect for all of you, and my only desire is that on occasion my writings will help arouse your senses to a level that helps you recognize how beautiful you truly are.
Along the way, there has been occasion to meet people on a more personal level here, and I like the risk. Thanks for reading everyone. Have a provocative and elegant night!
So I decided it might be the time to discuss my desires with this blog. I actually enjoy the possibility of people getting to know me here, so rather than give you a chance to be taken aback down the road, I will explain my motivations in word. I am in a state of depression, most certainly, it carries me through my every day, and I haven’t quite figured out how to shake it. I am not a huge fan of medication, I have an addictive personality – oh, ok, let’s talk about sex.
That confusing segue is purposeful. I want you to think I have lost my train of thought because of a preoccupation. But in a manner of speaking I haven’t, I just want you all to know now, I am always preoccupied with sex, or as I like to more candidly suggest, the elegant mystique of ‘woman.’ That has been a primary motivation for this site. The writing I do here allows me to journey along the confusion that is constant in my mind. I know all of you self-analysts out there are suggesting to me in the light of your monitor, that maybe a little less focus on sex might tone down the depression, and you are probably correct. But now the confusion and inability to recognize simple tools to step out of that depression leaves me vacant to the world around me.
I have spent my entire day, as I do often, writing words to help describe my fascination with the opposite sex. You will seldom see me write a piece that is about a guy, I haven’t a sense of that, but I do have a visual and creative obsession with the sheer beauty of ‘woman’ and it in regard to ‘she’ leaves me constantly compelled.
I have a happy marriage – wow, boom on that. Who’d of thought, a guy, preoccupied with sex, trying to step out of his depression is also a happily married one. Now is the time when all of you immediately surmise that this guy thinks he’s more unique than others. I know that is what I am thinking, and am well aware it is a crock of shit. But that said, I am a married man, who spends a lot of time trying to create this ‘ghost writer’ of erotica, probably primarily because I am feeling unfulfilled in some aspect of my life. By the way, sex with my wife is ok, I always initiate, but am never turned away … but that is another essay I suppose.
So, as I try to imagine a plausible way to close this writing, I want to first thank you for listening to me, those of you that are still here, and I want to say that I hope you understand, everything I design and create about my exploration of the beauty of woman is completely genuine in how I live my life. I sometimes feel as if God, or that entity for those that just reacted, enjoyed playing with my head while I missed out on so many chances to get laid in my younger years. Yup, I’m an old guy too … walk away now! 🙂
I’ve enjoyed releasing a little frustration with a self-effacing start of some hopeful dialogue of my life as it is. If you’re interested in more, come back and visit again. For now, I bid you adieu