WRITERS WRITE...WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ A TOUCH OF SPICE







Z:  It's May...it's May... outdoor lovin' begins this day.  (He sang to the window)
A:  (Ang noticed that Zi was wearing a sombrero and pointed to it)
Z:  Cinco de Mayo on the fifth.  I'm going to party el Mexicali style.
A:  How?
Z:  I got a coupon for half-off tacos.
A:  (Shaking her head)  Whatja working on?
Z:  Nothing.
A: (Attempts to peer over his shoulders)  First person voice, oooohhhh.
Z: (Blocked her view)  You’ll see it when it is done.
A: Looks done.
Z:  Half-baked.
A:  Speaking of which, there are peanut butter cookies just out of the oven.  I left them warm and gooey on the counter.
Z:  (As if suddenly hypnotized, he follows the yummy scent, but glances back for a moment, proving his faculties were still intact)  No peeking.
A:  Of course not.  (Once he was out of the room she jumped into his chair)  I’m not peeking, I’m reading!

You run to see me, dressed in a long flowing white summer dress.  I catch my breath, feel my heart pounding as the unmistakable breast-line that I constantly think about privately is accentuated by the dress.  You have that half smile on your face when you first see me, a bit of a blush attached to your cheeks, and that unmistakable need-to-be-near-you look in your lush, passionate eyes.

You jump into my arms and I swing you about.  That corny sort of swing that one often sees in old movies.  We can be corny at times, and somehow it seems right.   As I slid you back down to the floor, your hands land on either side of my cheeks, drown for a bit in my eyes as if you hadn’t seen those eyes for ages and had to make certain they were still there, that the emotion you feel for me is reflected right back to you.  You bring your face down slowly and then the last inch is hard and abrupt, kissing me with a power of a happy lover reunited. 

Your arms are now about my neck and once again I have lifted you off the floor in an embrace of sincere joy.  We spin and spin, laughing.  You ignored the week of stank that I have developed working nearly non-stop, as we wrestle tongues and hold each other tightly.

I walk you to the wall of the foyer, aggressively, I push against it.  You adore that aggression, you can’t get enough of it.  You crave it with a need that won’t stop when it comes to me.  I’m not sure why you want me this way?  I don’t think you do either.  It’s instinctual, chemical, spiritual, and natural.  Neither of us get it, but we know it is impossible to ignore it. 

I lower you to your bare feet, still kissing, soulful yet now, more lustful.  My arms drop from your waist.  We stop kissing and you looked into my eyes, deeper this time.  I saw love in yours.  It has been there from the beginning.  You try to hide it, rarely say it, but that love doesn’t stop, a constant tide that moves through me and into you.

In my eyes, you see an animalistic, primal want of you.  I take the elastic top of your dress and pull it down, free a white tit on which I bury my face,  I go for the darker pink rosette, pull it hard into my mouth then, I grabbed at your skirt, jerk it upward, tucking it between us.

Your panties are there for my touch, and I touch them, tease them, run my hands over them as if I own them, but then again, I do because I own the lust of you and they are part of that.

I reach in my pocket, pull a fishing knife, open it, and draw the back of the blade up your left leg, hook the panty's side, cut it, then cut the other, grab the sheer cloth and pull it from you.  My intention obvious, I close the knife and put the knife in my pocket.  Within that same motion I open my pants, drop them to my ankles, lift your left leg at the knee and enter you with a well-formed erection.

You are so ready, so eager.  You bite my shoulder as I enter you, roughly.  It is quick.  The cumming quicker.  You feel traces of it roll and run down you right leg and know how much I wanted you, lusted for your pleasure.  Somehow, the lust is grand.  We both understand that.

We want our pleasure but we want the other to be it.  I bit at your neck as I fill you once more.  I whisper… “I missed you so, you are my dream.”

I nip your lobe and return to your neck, pull at the skin with my suck.  Below, the ooze floods out followed by, “You are my desire fulfilled, but for this one moment then I desire you again… even more than I did before.  Each day brings me more want of you.  Today, I want hard!”

We hold each other tight as lovers do, not people that just shared sex, but as people who are in love.  You look into my eyes and see the man, not the animal.  That animal ran down your leg.  You see the purely honest eyes of man who wants you, all of you, not just the body, not just the sex, or pure lust.  Eyes that cried to be in your hold… eyes that spread love… and of forevers.

A:  (She added a comma here, a quote symbol there and grinned, while muttering to herself)  Hmmmm, this is really good.  (Suddenly, it appeared on the blog.) 
Z: (From the kitchen)  You’re not peeking, are you? 
A:  Of course not.  I didn’t peek at all….read and blogged it, but didn’t peek.
Z:  It wasn't edited!  (Pounding footsteps could be heard coming from the kitchen into the office.  He roared his displeasure as he realized the story was live on the internet, but his protest came out weak for his mouth was full of cookies.)

[READER ALERT  --  Look for Part 2 of this blog on May 15th ]



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Angelica Hart and Zi ~ Vixen Bright and Zachary Zane
www.champagnebooks.com - www.carnalpassions.com - angelicahartandzi.com








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