This is a work of fantasy. It is not about real people, and if it is, it's not what they would do. (not that you are likely to know them anyway). If you are under 18, go away, since I don't like to get in trouble. If you are turned off by perversion, what are you doing at ASSTR? In other words, go away. If none of this applies to you, great! Read on! Have fun! Let me know what you like!
Oh, and I work hard on my writing...so guess what? It's mine. That's right boys and girls...it's copyrighted...so if you want it? Just ask...we'll talk.
It doesn't seem that long ago when Chip and I first met. We met at the grocery store where he bumped me into my cart. We arranged to meet at the old Toll House dance hall in a few days. I arrived first; it was staid, everyone moving in a slow, dusty fashion. I got incredibly excited as I thought about meeting him, I was creaming all over. Who wouldn't want to meet someone who was sweet, dark and handsome? Chip was the last to drop in, but it was only when he showed up that the party really started. The dancers indulged in a Reel, and then a circle dance, until we danced with just each other. We spun round and round, getting dizzy until we collapsed together. We were deeply into each other and didn't want the evening to end.
After dancing, we went bowling. Everyone who saw us said we were a match made in heaven. We laughed and laughed together, until I was so stuck on him, I'm not sure anything could pry us apart.
Which of course, nothing could. So I went home with him. We knew we were meant to be. It was awkward at first, sitting, waiting for one of us to make a move, to do something.
The room began to get warm and I leaned into his dark silky skin. His first kiss was bittersweet.
"Oh, Cookie, you're so moist!" he murmured as her wrapped himself around my curves.
Then it was downright hot, until the blazing heat had me tensing and rising in desire, and him melting across me. His essence filled my nooks and crannies until we were truly one.
We are never apart now, and everyone always smiles when they see us, an image of wedded perfection.
© Dryad ([email protected]) 2002