Copyright 1999 Del Edwards (a nom de plume)
Patricia was sitting at the dining room table munching the last of her cold cereal. She was gazing straight ahead out the front window in a semi-trance when some movement out in the cul-de-sac snapped her back to the present moment. It was the man next door returning from his morning run. His name was Hughes... Dan maybe. Nice looking fellow in his mid forties she guessed.
Obviously in good physical shape, lives alone, about an equal but infrequent number of male and female visitors. He came and went on an irregular basis. She had no idea what he did for a living but knew he took care of the roses planted along the front of the house. She had seen him out there just the other day pruning away the suckers and low growth so the life energy would go up into the higher new growth and buds.
She always got the urge to plant and prune in the spring too. Even though she was living in a rental, she planned to spend part of the morning sprucing up the front yard. Hughes seemed like a nice man. She was fairly sure he would be willing to let her borrow those pruning shears for an hour or so. Somehow she got sidetracked with other chores in the house and it was almost an hour before she approached his front door. It was standing wide open. There was no screen door. She saw the button for the doorbell but decided she would just step inside the threshold and call out.
Just as she stepped across the threshold she heard a sound that pulled at her somewhere in her abdomen, well below her navel.
There it was again. It was coming from somewhere inside the house. She took a couple of steps into the living room. There it was again. It sounded like a cry of pain.
"Hello?" she said not too loudly. She moved to the middle of the living room. There it was again. The moan had come down the hall from the other end of the house. She took a few steps and waited. It was louder now and the intensity of it tugged at her. She moved further down the hall. There it was again, louder and more imperative than before. It was coming from the last door on the right. The voice sounded again, not a word but an intense animal cry. She could see bare feet on the bed but the configuration of the room left her only a view of a dresser standing along one wall across from the end of the bed. The intensity of the cries impelled her into the room.
What she saw froze her entire body. She could not move. She stood motionless, frozen in fascination. Finally she spoke," My god, I thought you were hurt or something!"
It was one of those balmy spring days that begged to come into the house. Hughes obliged, opening several windows and doors to get cross ventilation. His jog had been ordinary. He poured a second cup of coffee, put it in the microwave, set it to warm the coffee and went to the bedroom. He stripped off the sweaty workout clothes and tossed them into the laundry basket along with the sweat socks he had been wearing. He slipped into a light robe, got his coffee from the kitchen and settled at the dining room table with the morning newspaper.
Thirty minutes later he was preparing for a pleasure session. He arranged two pillows against the headboard of the bed and stacked two others to the left of where he would be lying. From a dresser drawer he took a hardbound book, leafed through it until he found the double page spread of a beautiful blond woman in a satin bustier, matching stockings and high heels. He propped it against the pillows on the left side of the bed. From the nightstand he took a plastic bottle of massage oil and went to the kitchen where he flipped open the pour spout and microwaved it for forty four seconds. It was pleasingly warm in his hand as he returned to the bedroom. He sat the massage oil on the nightstand, opened the drawer and took out a black sleep mask. Easing onto the bed he placed the sleep mask on top of the pillows that were propping up the book. It was within easy reach even when he relaxed against the pillows that were piled against the headboard.
After opening the robe he picked up the oil bottle and transferred it to his left hand. First he squeezed several drops of oil onto the fingers of his right hand. Then he directed several drops onto the head of his penis, which he was holding in his right hand. Caressing the head felt good and it began to grow. His gaze was on the photos of the beautiful woman in the champagne colored satin and lace bustier. The first grunt issued from his throat as he increased the speed of the stroke. Then there were more sounds as the size of his penis increased. His fingers worked on just the head and he could feel himself stiffening even more. He added a couple of drops of oil to the head and moaned as it began to swell to full definition. The eye was opening now and the head was shiny and taught. He slowed the stroking and then stopped while he used his left hand to put the sleep mask in place over his eyes. When he restarted the stroking of the burgeoning head, the moans of pleasure came from him stronger than before.
Occasionally there would be a scream of ecstasy and he would stop the stroking. After perhaps forty or fifty seconds he would resume the tantalizing strokes to the slightly shrunken head until it was swollen and ready to spasm, spit and then shrink. Each cycle was accompanied by his moaning until there was a scream of pleasure and the caressing stopped. He had become quite good at estimating the amount of time that passed while he was blindfolded and riding the pleasure rollacoaster just below orgasm.
His fantasy mind worked even better when he took a specific image of a beautiful woman under the sleep mask with him. When he was about ten minutes into his twenty-minute allotment of high pleasure he thought he heard a woman's voice saying "hello?" Oh yeah, the windows are open, must have come from outside he decided. He went back to making love to the beautiful blond who was still wearing her bustier and stockings but had quite willingly removed her panties so that she could engage him. She knelt astride him, excitement in her eyes, making her own sounds of pleasure as she moved. It seemed very real when she said,"Oh god, I thought you were hurt or something."
"Nooooo,not hurt," he groaned at her.
"I want to run and I want to stay and have that," a woman's voice said. But it wasn't the woman under the sleep mask with him who spoke. This is new, he thought. Have I taken myself so far into pleasure that I am hallucinating, he wondered. He decided to play along for awhile and see where it led.
"If you are going to stay, take your clothes off," he said as he resumed stroking the head of his penis.
"Okay but promise me you'll leave the blindfold on," he heard her say.
"Ahhhhh! Unhhhh! Then describe how you're undressing... Ohhh!" he said to her.
Patricia knelt and removed her shoes and socks. He was moaning and caressing just the very swollen head of his penis.
"Ooooooh, are you still here? Ahhhhha!" he said.
"Yes, I just took off my shoes and socks," she replied.
"Moooore, take off mooore," he told her.
"Now my blouse," she said to him.
He stopped stroking and took his hand completely away from the rigid member standing straight up into the air. "That was close," he said evenly. "Almost came."
"My bra is off. I'm naked to the waist," she announced.
"Finish," he growled at her as he squeezed his rigid penis.
