Thursday, May 15, 2014

WRITERS WRITE...WRITING PARTNERS FEUD ~ Possible Spice






[READER CAVEAT --  Please read our May 8th blog so you might be able to capture the fun of this piece]

Z:  It's May...it's May... outdoor lovin' begins this day. (He drew two stick figures doing the beast with two backs under a tree with a bird on the top of one)
A:  What's new?
Z:  Mother's Day was last Sunday.
A:  Yup!
Z:  So what are you getting me?
A:  Huh?
Z:  You constantly call me a motherf-er!
A:  Ha-ha!  Let's work.  Get this!  Hey, we got a comment from last week’s blog about that lusty encounter written in the first person.  Very hot, very serious, very intense.
Z:  The comment?
A:  Noooo, our blog.  I didn’t read this yet.
Z:  Let me read that. (He scooted his chair over so they could read together.)

Reader:  I enjoyed your blog, and hope you’ll forgive me for offering my take on the reality of such an encounter.  [That encounter was the base of the May 8th Blog] 

He opened the door and she sort of skipped over to see him, dressed in a long flowing sagging white summer dress, soiled from gardening.  Her breasts, those of a 50+ year old, fell well below the high-waist empire seam of the dress.  She had that half smile on her face when she first saw him, a bit of a blush attached to her cheeks, and that unmistakable need to be near her look in her lush, passionate eyes.  She was out of breath and red-faced from the skipping.

He caught his breath, felt his heart pounding as the unmistakable breast-line that he constantly thought about privately was accentuated by the dress. Those breasts were old and spongy.  They still got that puppet to sit up and bark, or was that toot?  Confusion was becoming part of his world? 
  
She attempted to jump into his arms and they both fell with a thud to the floor.  His hands landed on her cheeks, drowning in the tears of her eyes, for the fall painfully tore off two of her corn pads.  She kissed him with the power of a happy lover reunited… her arms about his neck and he heaved her up from the floor in an embrace of sincere, "By god I did it!"  

They spun and got dizzy, that was the fate of being old.  They stopped, she excused herself to vomit, returned and made a mental note not to do that again. 

She attempted to ignore the week of stank that he developed doing, she did not know what, and put her wrist to her nose to inhale the sweet lavender smell.  Feeling being taken for granted, why didn’t the man take a shower, he knew he was coming.    

Still, she missed him and soon they wrestled tongues. She stopped for a moment and pulled a piece of gum from her mouth, as he looked guiltily away, for it was his well-gnawed gum.

Up in his arms once more, he walked her to the wall of the foyer… both were too old to know why this was what instinct required but he slammed her as aggressively as his bargain basement knee replacements allowed, pushing her against the wall.  The plaster cracked and pieces fell to the floor as he lowered her to her bare feet. 

Still kissing, soulful yet now, more lustful in between her searching gasps of breath seeking to inhale the perfume once again from her wrist, and wondering where she put her inhaler, it was getting breathy in here. 

His arms dropped from her waist and she knew he felt the new roll from far too many jelly donuts.  They stopped kissing and she looked into his eyes, wondered for a half second if he was developing cataracts, winked, and then winked again, and ran quickly up the steps saying, "I have to pee."  He heard her long, loud fart when she reached the top step.

He ran after her, fanned the odiferous drift of butt gas, and waited patiently by the bathroom door listening to the unusual sounds coming from within.  When she finally opened the door, the smell wafting into the hallway took his breath away.  He hoped she had her inhaler; he needed it.

He persevered, eased her against the nearest wall, well, actually inched her there.  He found himself getting tired.  Trying to find that inner stud, he took the elastic top of her dress, pulled it down and freed a white floppy tit on which he put his face.  He went for the darker pink rosette, which was staring at the floor, but missed, searching with his mouth he finally found it and pulled it hard into his mouth only to realize it was a mole close to her armpit. 

Undeterred, he grabbed at the lower part of her dress, and lifted it.  He triumphed, he was the beast, he was the stallion.  He was an idiot, his fingers knotted with the material.  After many minutes, he untangled his fingers and tucked it between them.

Her polka dotted magenta and lime green, slightly torn at the seam, tinted with a bacon stain, granny panties were there for his touch.  All thoughts of caressing the cottony thread worn cloth retreated from his mind.  He reached in his pocket, pulled a fishing knife, opened it, drew the back of the blade up her left leg.  She yelped as the edge nicked her skin and then she cried out.

Seeing the blood running down her leg, he swiftly ran for the First Aid kit.  Once she was bandaged up, he grinned and used his knife to hook the panty side and cut one side then the other.   He tried to grab the sheer polka dotted cloth but they had fallen to the floor. His intentions were known though. He closed the knife and put it in his pocket.  An odor rose from her nether region for she was between douches.

Within that same motion he fumbled with his belt, then attempted to unzip his pants only to get some hairs caught in the zipper. He yelped in pain as she looked on horrified.  The anticipated well formed erection was flaccid, and bleeding a bit.  And a tear turned macho into oucho.

She sought to help him as he hopped and screeched about the hall.  She deftly reached into his pocket, pulled out the knife, opened it and walked toward him.  Horror was shown in his eyes, whiting the edges, as his hands protected his zipper malfunction.  She stumbled on the frayed hem of her dress and fell toward him. He scrambled to jump away but not before the knife, her hand still holding it, speared his big toe. 

Miraculously, after some manipulation, the zipper came free during this foray of complications.  Trying to arrange his expression into that of an amorous lover, his pants dropped to his ankles.   Poised on her knees before his penis presentation, he suspected she'd orally please him.  But alas, she pulled at the knife, noting his persona resembled a wounded bloodhound as she realized the knife had penetrated his toe and was firmly lodged into the beautiful wooden inlayed floor.  She remembered helping him lay that floor, just after they got laid.  Memory tugged at her for a moment, but it was quickly quenched.  She knew that when the knife was removed it would reveal that her floor had a gouge filled with blood. 

Filled with purpose, he pulled her to him despite the awful throb in his toe and the sharp searing pain where the missing skin from his dick slightly gaped open.  He lifted her left leg at the knee and entered her with a well formed one inch erection.  She had been ready to be fucked and asked, "Is it in yet?"

“What?”  His hearing aide slipped.

“Can you hear me?  Is it in yet?”

“Huh?

“Can yoooooou  hear me.  Is it in yet?”

Repositioned the device, “I can hear you, you don’t have to shout."

The loving was quick.  The cumming was quicker.  She felt traces of cum roll and run down her right leg. She looked down sensually.  Her smile turned to horror as she realized it was not his semen, but his blood dripping from the side of his dick.  He gave her a lopsided grin as he became dizzy and fainted to the floor.  His large toe still firmly attached to the floor.  She thought to herself the lust was grander than the fuck. 

They wanted their pleasure but they wanted the other to be it. His eyes fluttered and he regained consciousness. He wobbly stood, put his head on her shoulder and drooled a bit on her neck.   She felt his little knob try to enter her once again. It barely parted her. He whispered, “I missed you so… you are my dream.”

He nipped her earlobe and immediately began to choke when her earring fell into his throat.  She spun him around and used the Heimlich Maneuver on him and smiled when she heard her earring ping onto the wall across the hallway.  He sputtered and thanked her.

The splooge floods out of his wee little willie as he huskily said, “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 you hard but first please get me some pain killers, some gauze, and antiseptic." 

She tripped as she turned to do his bidding, falling and hitting her head on the small table nearby.  She lay motionless on the floor.  He reached for her only to find that damn knife still held his foot in place.  He grabbed for her and wanted to hold her tight as lovers do… not people that just shared fuck, but as people who were in love.  She awoke and looked into his eyes and saw a blurry man, or was it an animal?  She blinked, and felt an insect run down her leg.  She crushed the insect with one big smack of her hand, looked into his eyes and saw the purely honest eyes of man who wanted her… eyes that cried to be in her hold… eyes that spoke of love… and of forevers.  She smiled and looked up at him and simply said, "Tomorrow is another day."

A: (Wipes tears from her eyes from laughter)
Z:  Well, gotta admit, love comes in all sorts of situations.


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








1 comment:

Janie Junebug said...

This is a hoot. I engage in old people sex so I know. And my boobs hang low.

Love,
Janie Junebug

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