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From: Eli the Bearded <usenet-tag@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
Subject: [repost] Eli: "May" {mf oral} (9.5-10-10 CR182)
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Archive-name: eli-may
Subject: May
Keywords: mf oral

Michael Handler's Review: 9: "The BOFH gets laid!" _Far_ too much of this
   reads like my life...
Ava Petit-Mountain's Review: 9: Hopkins-esque turns of phrase enliven a
   startlingly mild Eli story
Celeste's Review: 9.5 10 10 (reviews issue 182)

			May

			   by Eli the Bearded

   "Hard is the herte that loveth nought/In May."
    -- Geoffrey Chaucer

May comes in looking cute-as-can-be in some snug-tight jeans and white
cotton tee. She's got one of those bodies that's not thin, but looks
so much better than most thin bodies really do. So anyway, I see her
and she looks great and I am momentarily happy-glad-grinning to just
see a body that looks that sweet. May happens to be the woman I love,
but that is not entering into this, not even my belief in her good
looks. (I'm sure you've noticed how when you love a woman for herself
she will always look better than she did before you knew her.)

Like I said my flash of joy is momentary-brief. Not because of May or
anything between us, never, but because my worries clamped down hard
and fast on my thoughts stronger than the sighting of May could
prise-wrestle away. I have a deadline approaching on a project, you
see. I had most of the thing done, but then the customer ups and
changes the specs. The change is slight, but it violates some of the
main assumptions the code was based on. There is a big-thick- ominous
pile of changing ahead to meet the new state of affairs. And then
there are the additional modifications to support those new features.

Wasn't it the Red Queen in _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ that said
"It takes all the running you can do to keep in the same place"?
That's me right now. I feel just like that. God damn.

"Caught-cha smilin', bub. /You/ know what /that/ means," she says.
Actually I don't know what it means but I am not so sure that I don't
want to find out.

She walks over and *plomp* sits on my lap. "None of this," wrapping
one arm 'round my neck, and pulling the reference book away with the
other. They say you've been in hack mode way-far too-fucking-long when
this sort of activity triggers a priority interrupt. She dropped the
book to the floor, not quite a solid thud, and put her other hand on
my shoulder. This is a for-sure priority interrupt alright.

"Hello," I say.

"And hello to you, my pogo-boy," and she gives the tip-peak of my nose
a quick little dart of a lick. I hug her about the waist, and start to
lean my head on her shoulder.

"Uh, eh, ah!" She jumps up grabs my hand and pulls me up. Then she
gets her hand so startlingly close to my crotch grabbing the waist of
my jeans. She flashes an oh so wicked- tasty little-vicious grin,
raises one of her plucked-to-a- mere-suggestion eyebrows, turns and
starts pulling. No way, no how, no project is stopping me.

Out into the rich dark air of the warm summer night. Gibbous moon
trees-obscured sitting low on the horizon leaves the area dark, darker
as we wander from the house. I had been happy to take the job in
Dover, N.H. All my old family is in New Hampshire, mostly way up north
though, and the real estate here is woo-woo-woo fantastic after
Manhattan prices. Let's just say it is a large parcel of land she's
pulling me across and the neighbors are way too far to notice.
Besides, "Live Free or Die:" every licence plate the state gives out.

Funny what one thinks at the least likely moments staring at a
callipygean rump. Unable to resist, I give her one smart rap right on
the the right-honorable rump. "Don't tell me I waited too long," she
says, after the squeal of course. Just after the next clump of shrubs
she stops abruptly. I don't see it at first, but she pushes me down on
it so I can't miss it, she has laid out a large-thick-soft blanket
over the ground. Prostrate before her standing body I grab her large
hips and pull her crotch to my face. I kiss-nibble- begin to lick when
she gently hits me saying, "Nein. Nein, mein Liebling."

Confused and feeling affronted, I sit back. In nary a wink she's got
the tee thrown aside, I see the small nipples free-hard-dark in
pale-slim light. Falling only slightly slower her blue jeans quietly
rumple over near her shirt. Even in the present absence of light I see
and know the panties. Redder-softer than the finest red velvet cake,
these are silk panties I have not seen in months.

Over she leans and soon I have May mouth against mine, her tongue
tasting me, and me tasting sweet-spicy ginger and her. I'm opening my
shirt, she's opening my jeans. And I am at attention to greet her
hands when she gets 'em open. She pulls back from my face and goes
down. A lick and a soft- tease bite and then she pulls down my
underwear. I put one hand in her long-soft-straight hair and the other
on Magenta.

Her warm wet mouth with just a hint of dangerous teeth makes for
instant pleasure-joy-happiness when applied correctly. May applies
herself. I taunt and tickle and touch and squeeze the breast I have.
My hair hand holds follows and almost exerts control some moments. Her
tongue works wondrous wonderful wonders on my wand.

I arrive at pleasure-the peak-the moment and I come into her. May is
not stopping for that and continues until I relax-release-calm myself.
She sits up, I lie down, she lies on top.

"Thank you," I say oh-so quiet-silent-slow to her ear. She pecks my
cheek. "I needed that," I add. She kisses each of my eyelids.
Love-pride-joy-happiness-warmth-affection- adorement overflow me and I
hold her strong-tight to my chest.

Elijah
------
can you tell it was finals week?

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