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Short Story: Breathe
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Short Story: Breathe Hello all, A slight departure, this. Here's a short story I wrote as a project to understand my sexual brain (like any other of my gender of the species, I process with both heads  ) and at the same time attempt to empathize with the sexual brain of the opposite sex. That my missus had to fine-tune me over the years shows that I was willing, if not somewhat still clueless as to what women want. It's about the cues and clues, and most of all, every woman is individual and different. And that, my friends, is why we love them so much!!"Breathe" She floats as she breathes, slow, shallow. Aware of the sweet smell of her sweat, her breasts rise and fall in a rhythm of their own. She sighs. Imagines she should grind her hips, but there is no resistance, no friction. Patience. She knows it will come in time. Soon... Ahhhh, it was there in the parking lot, after all. Earlier, she had been afraid, even angry. Sitting around their car, they called, whistled, grabbed their crotches. Three men, in their twenties or thirties, it didn't matter. She had still a good distance to walk, and she felt the jabs from their eyes, prickling her full legs. She was conscious of her cheeks rubbing together in her denim shorts, felt a slight dampness below despite her fear and fury. As they continued to call out, she was sure they had followed, their hands now groping her bottom, grabbing her belt and holding her there. She must have hesitated in her walk for they had stopped yelling. Or could she no longer hear? Catching her breath, her composure, she resumes her journey appearing not to hurry, but not dallying either. She feels, more than hears, the crunching of gravel as a car approaches slowly from behind. It is them, but with an attractive woman in the front passenger seat. The two men relegated to the back seat leer at her, in spite of her hurling angry looks in their direction. The one closest to her runs his tongue along his cheek, to and fro, as if to simulate her oralising his member. She holds her breathe as they drive out onto the road, thus not identifying which car is hers. As she enters her car she takes stock of the moment . . . was she dressed too provocatively? She always dresses this way. Her shorts are not too sexy, although her hips have a wonderful sway. Her top is a body suit, but her bra is firm in its support. Still, for her thirty-three years, she could pass for twenty-three easily. Next time she shops here, she decides, she'll bring along Jim or her . But that's not what brings her here now. She glides over the parking lot but knows she won't slow down until she slides her hand between her thighs. As her fingers roam past her trimmed thatch of hair below her navel, her flight begins to falter, leaving her suspended over her gray Nissan. She sees herself as she had sat earlier that afternoon. Now she floats here, not aware of her fingers, or the sweet softness between her legs, but she knows that what's unfolding below is a result of a sensual acceptance. She was frightened earlier, and had shot out of the parking lot as she discovered a trickle along her thigh which was not sweat. Had she been so frightened? Or worse, had the moment whipped a forbidden chord, something vile and wrong? She wiped at the wet trail as she safely drives away. Bringing her fingers up to her face, her emotions prevent her from distinguishing this wetness. She speeds home. But now as she witnesses from above, she had not sped away, rather, she starts up her car and heads back toward the men. She passes slowly as they renew their leering and obscene gestures. She acts not afraid yet she tingles with fear; she does not stop until she parks near the end of the lot. She decides she will return to the store and make a show of having no fear. She questions not why she'll return to the store, save for personal bravado and the sweat of this moment that had passed between her and them. She feels moist inside and slowly examines her face in the rearview mirror. She's blatantly attractive, she decides, large eyes, full lips surrounded by a full face. Reddish-brown hair, milky skin, and just barely sweating now. She opens the car door, feeling exposed immediately. It's now dusk, yet she adjusts her eyes from the privacy dark tinting of her automobile. They are out there, of course, and she feels a swelling dampness of knowing; full knowledge of what they would like to do to her. Closing her car door, she walks slowly toward the store; its lights taking power over the failing sunlight. She feels their eyes again, probing and sliding, salty and vile. Her heart races as she enters the store. A young clerk ogles her swaying hips as she saunters past his jewelry counter, stopping at a display of sunglasses so as to allow him a longer look. She resists the idea of bending over to the lowest tier of merchandise. But she muses on the notion, and it makes her glad. She squirms in her own deliciousness, rubbing her thighs together as she walks. She makes her way around the display so that she might see those others through the storefront window. Looking at the window, she spies her reflection. Her lips appear pouty, and she's sticking her chest forward and her bottom out as well. Her image is invaded by the images of three males, one coming up behind and overtaking the other two in undisguised intent. This sight runs a shock through her. They are approaching the store now, and she turns further inside, having abandoned the fancy of the younger man. She is slightly afraid now, more of meeting a familiar face, thus ending this delicious game. Intentionally, she finds herself in the swim wear area, and picks a revealing one-piece from a rack. There are but a few customers in the store now, and all of the dressing rooms are available. The three men have spotted her, but remain a distance away. The dressing room has tall, louvered doors but she knows that from the right angle, they might see first her shorts, then her white panties fall to the floor. They may even see as she reaches up to hang up her body suit and bra on the hook up above. They are closer now, though she doesn't look at them, she knows they are watching as she brings the swimsuit over her legs. She admires her appearance in the mirror, but decides she needs some expert opinion. She boldly steps from the room and up to the sales desk. The suit is low-cut and reveals a large portion of her chest. The bottom cuts into her crotch slightly, and the v-shaped back covers little of her muscular, shapely bottom. "Do you have this in a five?" she asks the saleswoman, though she ignores any response, save to turn slowly and model the garment for all the world to see. She's suddenly aware that she can scent her own musky smell, her loveliness swollen to the point of self-pleasure. She measures her walk back to the dressing room, making the most of her show. Inside the dressing room, she knows she will have to buy this suit, if nothing else, to save her from the clerk's knowing stare. She wants to dab at the moist place with tissues in her purse, but suspects the contact would cause her to cry out. She thanks the woman as she heads to the front of the store to pay. A wave of disappointment hits her as she discovers her admirers are no longer in the store. She glances outside, but their car is not there, either. Upon paying for her purchases, she imagines she'll ask Jim to take her to bed tonight, maybe as soon as she's home. As she floats above the parking lot, watching her walk toward her car, she thinks that maybe, just maybe, Jim must wait for another time. Possibly just a little bit later. Will he know? Would it matter if he did, this is a just a game, after all. Copyright ©2013 Eros_y_pasion |
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6/17/2013 12:53 pm |
i have try to contact member here but i am unable to views members profiles..anyone who is interested in making new relationship...moreover i am single as you see on my profile....you can mail at my contact lauragorge11 g mail dot com..waiting to read your letter in my inbox
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