deepundergroundpoetry.com
Have no idea yet lol
I found something I'd started once on a blog I kept for a while... Just something inspired by someone I'd met. Don't know if I'll pursue it but felt the need to share. Thanks and as always please forgive me for not responding to comments like I need to. They mean the world to me.
______
She was where he’d instructed her to be.
Precisely eight o’clock. Her hands trembled. Remember, she thought to herself. It’s for the money. You have to have money to save the house.
She kept trying to forget the meeting with him just days before. His study. A veritable study in beige and romantic Victorian lush furniture. All fluid delicious carving and claws. The unmistakable male scent in the air. Sandalwood and a strange purity, an impossible sense of cleanliness.
His face. Haunting. Beautiful. Ineffable. Unforgettable. Dark close cropped impossibly groomed hair. Eyes black as night. She was 43. Her time was almost up. He was merely 21. She was more than two decades older than he. His impeccably tailored suit. Long hands and long tapered fingers like the candles that had flickered before her.
She was aware somehow their meeting was adjourned. But suddenly he reached into a compartment and pulled out something that caused a scarlet blush to rise to her cheeks.
He turned it this way and that in the undulating candlelight. “This,” he spoke perhaps too evenly, “This is an exact replica of my penis. I had it made on commission in Switzerland. This needs to be in your little hand at precisely eight o’clock Friday night. In my bedroom. In my bed.”
She remembered bits and pieces dimly. “Why someone… My age?” she’d asked. “There are beautiful young girls your age…”
The intimidating flash of anger on his face. “I have no interest in young girls. They know nothing. They know nothing of what I…” He paused to let his dark eyes travel over her form. “Require.”
And now… The scent of blackberry and vanilla filled the air. She knew it was time. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
Her hands moved to remove her clothing. She wore what he’d instructed her to wear. The crimson lace bra and panties he’d removed from a white box and gingerly handed to her.
She twirled the… Thing in her hand. It was hefty, to say the least. The impossible lifelike detail… The veins and ridges… Something stirred deeply to life inside her. Something long buried but never forgotten.
She remembered his written instructions implicitly. She took the artificial organ… Though such a word did nothing for its overwhelming glory. How… How could a man be so beautiful and also be gifted with such a member… And so very young.
She began to rub it across her skin slowly, tentatively. Her painfully aroused breasts… Her arms. Lower, lower, down her stomach, further down…
He wrote vehemently to not remove her bra and panties. He wanted the act performed with her dressed in the lingerie. So she carefully pulled aside the crotch of the expensive underthings. She had had much experience in her life. Somehow, blessedly, she was still tight. Surprisingly tight. In fact, in sudden anxiety she almost thought the thing was just not… Going. To. Fit.
But the more she remembered their meeting, the more clearly his face summoned in her mind, her body’s response was overwhelming. Natural lubrication flowed from her. She slipped his likeness inside her. And bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from moaning out loud in delicious pleasure.
It took not even two minutes. Her movements became frantic and rapid as something purely natural seemed to take over every fiber of her being, every pore of her body. In the end, a sudden visceral image flew in her mind, of him actually in the bed with her, laboring above her, his breath in her mouth… She imagined his ejaculation inside her to be copious and excessive, and the thought spiraled her into wave after hot wave of orgasmic contractions… To feel his hot seed inside her… Surely nothing could be more wonderful in the world.
When it was over and she could breathe again, something odd and tiny and shiny caught her eye. It was like a little eye in itself dug deep within the groove of one of the countless eyes that made up the swathes of burgundy velvet wallpaper in his room.
And she realized what it was. She was looking at a tiny, barely discernable camera.
______
She was where he’d instructed her to be.
Precisely eight o’clock. Her hands trembled. Remember, she thought to herself. It’s for the money. You have to have money to save the house.
She kept trying to forget the meeting with him just days before. His study. A veritable study in beige and romantic Victorian lush furniture. All fluid delicious carving and claws. The unmistakable male scent in the air. Sandalwood and a strange purity, an impossible sense of cleanliness.
His face. Haunting. Beautiful. Ineffable. Unforgettable. Dark close cropped impossibly groomed hair. Eyes black as night. She was 43. Her time was almost up. He was merely 21. She was more than two decades older than he. His impeccably tailored suit. Long hands and long tapered fingers like the candles that had flickered before her.
She was aware somehow their meeting was adjourned. But suddenly he reached into a compartment and pulled out something that caused a scarlet blush to rise to her cheeks.
He turned it this way and that in the undulating candlelight. “This,” he spoke perhaps too evenly, “This is an exact replica of my penis. I had it made on commission in Switzerland. This needs to be in your little hand at precisely eight o’clock Friday night. In my bedroom. In my bed.”
She remembered bits and pieces dimly. “Why someone… My age?” she’d asked. “There are beautiful young girls your age…”
The intimidating flash of anger on his face. “I have no interest in young girls. They know nothing. They know nothing of what I…” He paused to let his dark eyes travel over her form. “Require.”
And now… The scent of blackberry and vanilla filled the air. She knew it was time. She couldn’t put it off any longer.
Her hands moved to remove her clothing. She wore what he’d instructed her to wear. The crimson lace bra and panties he’d removed from a white box and gingerly handed to her.
She twirled the… Thing in her hand. It was hefty, to say the least. The impossible lifelike detail… The veins and ridges… Something stirred deeply to life inside her. Something long buried but never forgotten.
She remembered his written instructions implicitly. She took the artificial organ… Though such a word did nothing for its overwhelming glory. How… How could a man be so beautiful and also be gifted with such a member… And so very young.
She began to rub it across her skin slowly, tentatively. Her painfully aroused breasts… Her arms. Lower, lower, down her stomach, further down…
He wrote vehemently to not remove her bra and panties. He wanted the act performed with her dressed in the lingerie. So she carefully pulled aside the crotch of the expensive underthings. She had had much experience in her life. Somehow, blessedly, she was still tight. Surprisingly tight. In fact, in sudden anxiety she almost thought the thing was just not… Going. To. Fit.
But the more she remembered their meeting, the more clearly his face summoned in her mind, her body’s response was overwhelming. Natural lubrication flowed from her. She slipped his likeness inside her. And bit down hard on her lower lip to keep from moaning out loud in delicious pleasure.
It took not even two minutes. Her movements became frantic and rapid as something purely natural seemed to take over every fiber of her being, every pore of her body. In the end, a sudden visceral image flew in her mind, of him actually in the bed with her, laboring above her, his breath in her mouth… She imagined his ejaculation inside her to be copious and excessive, and the thought spiraled her into wave after hot wave of orgasmic contractions… To feel his hot seed inside her… Surely nothing could be more wonderful in the world.
When it was over and she could breathe again, something odd and tiny and shiny caught her eye. It was like a little eye in itself dug deep within the groove of one of the countless eyes that made up the swathes of burgundy velvet wallpaper in his room.
And she realized what it was. She was looking at a tiny, barely discernable camera.
Published 27th Apr 2017
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Anonymous
27th Apr 2017 3:52pm
It's good that you resurrected this from your blog!
27th Apr 2017 6:56pm
This is intensely erotic Toni, and I love that punchline. This could be the start to a series.................
