I managed to do the big tasks.
So, I managed to save everything from my database. That’s good.
I could have easily exported everything to later import, I didn’t do that. That’s bad.
I need to figure out how to use what I did save to get this correct.
P.S. I’m having a few other issues here and there. Hopefully, they will get sorted soon enough.
Refused. Rejected.
He constantly flakes and I don’t have time for that. I wanted a good hard fucking. I need to shove his head down between my legs and force him to eat me. Not meant to be. I want someone regular.
I put the phone down. I flip over in bed. My hand delves beneath the comforter and slips over my thinly clad body.
Since the weather hasn’t cooperated and we are going directly from summer to summer with a short span of autumn/spring as the buffer, my pajamas are decidedly light. I wear a tiny pair of boy shorts and a fitted little t-shirt. That’s all.
The worn, soft fabric of cotton rubs against my finger tips. The gap between top and bottom reveals a slice of soft, supple skin. As my finger tips trace over it, I shiver, wishing and thinking of your touch.
You. I know. Wouldn’t. Let. Me. Down.
My knight. Rescue me. Alas, distance separates us this night. My hands slither beneath the soft cotton of the alluring t-shirt. I cup the fullness of my breasts and allow my finger to strum back and forth over my raspberry nipples.
My hips squirm. Sooty lashes flutter down on my chocolatey eyes. My back arches and I sigh softly. Pinching and tugging, I tease my nipples. I know your hands, the weight and feel of them on my tits. I think of their nimble touch. I think of your weight pinning me against the firm mattress as you lavish them with attention.
You encourage the sweet moans and sighs of passion with your taunting touch. Your mouth, so beautiful with the full thick lips that curve all to easily into a knowing grin, hover over my nipples. Your tongue snakes out and wets them as you feel my hips pressing against yours, rubbing, grinding against your cock.
That cock, glorious hardness that I need.
My unrestrained antics tell you I want it. I need it. I crave it.
Inside. Of. Me. Now.
I see you pause. I watch you rise and divest yourself of your boxers. You resume your place. You tease us both. Your cock rubs, rocks and rolls against my slit. The head nudges my clit. Sending waves of pleasure and turmoil through me, I writhe beneath you.
“More, please” I say. Huskily and drawn out tones begging for what I need. Your hips grind faster.
I shatter, splinter into a million little pieces as I cum. Hard. Loud. Shaking. Pleasure so intense I squeal. Your hips continue to move. I feel yet more pleasure building. As it crests, you thrust your cock into me. Your teeth grit as you feel the explosion around you. My cunt massage your cock as it pulses and creams.
Sooty lashes rise. A fine sheen of sweat on my brow, I throw off the light blanket. I pull two fingers from my juicy cunt. Bringing them to my lips, I lick and suck them clean, wishing you could watch. Wishing you could taste them on my lips.
Now listening: Pulp:This Is Hardcore:Radioactivo[5:14]
Technorati Tags: desire, Rejection, fantasy, masturbation, pulp, this is hardcore
Suit. Dess shoes. Silk tie. Cuff links. Dress shirt with French cuffs.
I said it before and I say it again: I lust after well-dressed men. We agreed to meet for dinner. You rushed. I arrived early and the hostess tucked me into a dark booth in the back.
Watching as you dash into the restaurant, your briefcase clutched in one hand, your overcoat draped over your arm, I sigh. In this instant, in this moment, you are perfection personified. You arrived directly from the office, your breathing heavy.
I wave, signaling you. A sharp nod acknowledges the wave then you wend your way to the booth. Tossing your briefcase unceremoniously into the booth, you take two extra steps, bend and press a soft kiss and a whispered apology to my lips. Your jacket blankets your briefcase.
We eat dinner. A local Mexican restaurant, we enjoy margaritas and tequila shots. We laugh. We touch. We flirt across our meals. The tension rises, clearly combustible.
We communicate with the waiter. The bill arrives. A card emerges. Paid.
We gather our things. We extricate ourselves from the booth. We saunter from the restaurant. Your hand engulfs mine. We make our way into the night.
We decide to walk to my home. The night is young. The sky illuminated by the high rise light show and the air temperate, swirling around us, teasing the hem of my skirt.
You laugh as I bat my skirt down, rail at the breeze. Your hand tugs mine, I fall against you, my head upturned. Your head lowers; your lips kiss mine.
Kissing, in the middle of the sidewalk, hot and passionate. Your tongue pushes past my cherry ice cream smile. My arms creep up, wrapping around your shoulder. Standing on tip-toes.
I break from the kiss, lips swollen, breathing heavy. My dark eyes sparkle in the dimmed evening light. Still hand in hand, I pull you behind me, a force with which to be reckoned.
We walk, rushed in silence. The sounds around us muted. Our heavy breathing, our footfalls, the swish of material the soundtrack to the race.
I smile and mumur a greeting to the doorman as we slip into the buildling. I tug you after me, although you are beside me as we enter the elevator.
Soft thuds accompany the falling to the floor of your coat and briefcase. You attack. Pressing me against the wall of the elevator, a free hand jams the button to my floor. Your mouth already returned to mine, your tongue plunging into my mouth.
You break the kiss, your hands roaming over my body as mine roam over your back and shoulders. Your mouth is against my ear, whisper how much you want me. Grinding against my hips, I feel the rock hard lenth of your cock through the layers of our clothes.
The door chimes, signaling our arrival on my floor. We somehow manage to scoop up your briefcase and jacket and exit the elevator. Your hand cups and caresses my bum as we walk the long length of corridor to my floor.
Keys in hand, when we reach the door, I slip the key in, unlock the door and we step inside…
Technorati Tags: fantasy, sex, foreplay, french cuffs, suits, well-dressed-men, kissing