Vicki Marie’s Sexy Summer Reading Series: One Chapter A Day
THE BACHELOR CHAPTERS: A THINKING WOMAN’S ROMANCE
He took my ankles, one in each hand, and used them like handles to pull me closer. On my back, and with my legs stiff in the air, I broadened the spread, making the opening elegant, graceful and wide, exactly the way he liked it.
“I love your dancer’s legs, with those pretty red toes, and those sexy red shoes. I get hard thinking about it.” He was hard now, on his knees, and naked, picking me up under my ass with one enormous hand, and holding his dick in the other.
“Look at that pussy.” Lamar spoke to himself, his eyes fixed between my legs. “That could be the perfect pussy.” Guiding his dick with his hand, he touched the head to my lips, moving it up and down at the gateway, coaxing the folds to open. He could see the tight black hole, the target at the center, the lips forming a broad, pink border. Like a painter preparing a canvas, he spread the gesso across the surface, coating the rosy labia and his rigid dick with a slick, glossy veneer.
There was a sacrament to this action, and it was my moment to watch. I imagined a classic pinup photograph, the hot moment frozen, and printed in magazines designed for arousal. My perfectly straight legs, shapely and feminine, capped with bright red toes and held taut inside the shiny red stilettos, framing his black body inside the heart of the wide V. His chest and biceps were a wall of muscle, his figure more like a superhero’s than a man’s, the strength profound and reverent, and in sharp contrast to the delicate legs of the classic white frame.
But this was not a still image, it was the prelude to a moving picture, the setup before the cameras began rolling, before the man in charge declared action. I inched toward madness in the moments before he entered me, watching as his eyes consumed my exposure. I posed, still and speechless. This man wanted my pussy. He saw it, he picked it, and he kept coming back to it, kept kneeling before it, kept idolizing it with reverence and greed.
As always, the entry was incomparable. All my senses gave way to his penetration. My breath left me. My eyes fell closed in prayer. I always fail here with language. I can’t evoke the impact with words. Is it a homecoming, or a reentry, or a reunion? When I was younger, I would explain the sensation with the declaration, “I was born to fuck.” For me this is the dope moment of sex, the first puff of the crack pipe, when there is finally truth in consciousness. This is not the coming, or the fucking. This is not the performance, and not even the thrill. This is the being, and it is also the very beginning, and in that eclipse of emptiness and in that rush to fullness, it is also the end of all I will ever need to know.
TOMORROW: Chapter 51
Copyright Vicki Marie Stolsen, 2014, Forever Forty-Four Publications, Publicity Rare Bird Lit, Tyson Cornell, Tyson@rarebirdlit.com, Distribution by Ingram, Available online and in bookstores in paperback, eBook, and audio format.