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From: john_dark@anon.nymserver.com
Subject: {deirdre}JDR"Date"( MF )[1/1]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
The following story is posted for the entertainment of adults. If you are
below the age of eighteen or are otherwise forbidden to read electronic
erotic fiction in your locality, please delete this message now. The story
codes in the subject line are intended to inform readers of possible areas
that some might find distasteful, but neither the poster nor the author
make any guarantee. You should be aware that the story might raise other
matters that you find distasteful. You read at your own risk.
The enjoyment of these reposts can be increased by reading the "Coming
Attractions," which includes the titles to be reposted in the next week.
These stories have not been written by the person posting them. Many of
those e-mail addresses below the author's byline still work. If you liked
the story, either drop the author a line at that e-mail address or post a
comment to alt.sex.stories.d. Please don't post it to alt.sex.stories
itself. Posting the comment with a Cc: to the author would be the best way
to encourage them to continue entertaining you.
The copyright of this story belongs to the author, and the fact of this
posting should not be construed as limiting or releasing these rights in
any way. In most cases, the author will have further notices of copyright
below. If you keep the story, *PLEASE* keep the copyright disclaimer as
well.
=======================================================
Disclaimer: my stories, like the private sex fantasies of many people,
often depict "breaking some rules". Do not read this story if you believe
fantasy stories should never depict situations undesirable in real life.
Be warned that you may not be comfortable with the sexual situations. Do
not read this story if you are less than 18 years of age.
Permission granted to repost, to make available online, and to publish
in low-cost CD-ROM archives of alt groups if attributed to deirdre.
Permission granted to publish in periodicals and anthologies of this type
of material if attributed to deirdre and an author's payment is sent to
AIDS research in the name of deirdre. -- deirdre
=====================
====
Date
by deirdre
3/31/96
I stood there, looking at Bobby. He was standing there in the doorway
to my apartment. Smiling from ear to ear, obviously happy to see me.
Suddenly he was practically on me, his arms around me.
"Bobby!?" My mind was racing.
"Let's go out! Right now!" He sounded like a little kid... so happy.
"I just *had* to see you right away--I *missed* you so much!"
It was so soon. How could he have gotten home and back here so
quickly? And his reaction to seeing me! He must have come straight here
from the airport. After being gone for a week! What was I going to do?
He obviously hadn't listened to my message. I thought, as quickly as I
could. Tell him right now? Just like this? "Bobby...," I started. I
couldn't go on.
"Come on!" Still enthusiastic. Pulling me out. I felt guilty. I
hadn't *planned* on my seeing him at *all*. And I realized that I was
going to have to face up to it. To tell him over dinner. It was only
decent--I know it had been a chicken to do it on the answering machine
while he was out of town, but I'd been beside myself worrying about how and
when I was going to do this, and I'd been possibly a little drunk.
Fortunately I'd been, well, *kind* in my choice of words, if that is
possible under the circumstances. But now here he was. And it seemed like
fate was going to make me do it properly. The door closed behind us.
Suddenly he was kissing me there, in the corrider, in front of my
apartment door. He *can* kiss. *That* wasn't the problem, I realized.
Well if he'd kissed me like that more often, maybe things would have been
different. I felt trapped, being kissed right there, but I realized a last
kiss was only fair, I suppose. And I didn't mind getting one more of those
kisses. I gave in and started returning it.
And wondered. What was I doing? What was I doing kissing him like
this? Is this breaking up with him? I felt his body against mine. His
tongue. The way his hands moved across my back and through my hair.
"Let's skip dinner," he whispered in my ear.
I shouldn't. I couldn't, but I couldn't get out of it! It was either
tell him this instant or go along with it. But the moment was right for
only one thing. I unlocked my door as his body pressed against my back.
Then we were back in my apartment with the door shut behind us.
One last time. I wouldn't hate him in the future--I knew I wouldn't.
If only things had been just a little different. We were going to have one
more memory. He could be *so* good. Suddenly I was off my feet, in his
arms. And then on my couch. And my pants were undone.
I lay there. On the couch, staring at the ceiling. My fingers were
in his hair. He had me in heaven, his tongue, probing and dancing,
carrying me away.
My knees were raised, to each side of his head. I was about to faint,
I was breathing so fast. I didn't remember it like this before. Ever.
He was kissing my cheek. And my ear and my neck--I felt I must have
blacked out for a second, and then there he was, on top of me. Or rather
over me: he wasn't crushing me. "Did you like that?" he asked. Stupid
question! Then I felt him guiding himself into me. Well, not quite: he
rubbed it up and down my vulva. And his fingers on me. And rubbed it
again. I could tell it was so hard. I imagined the feel of it entering
me. He kissed me in the mouth. "Do you want me in you?" he asked.
I didn't answer. "Do you?"
"Yes!"
He plunged into me. I was ready. I was so, so ready. He kissed me
again, on the mouth, not moving yet. "I love this so much," he whispered
in my ear. "With you."
Then he was moving. Harder and harder. I was gone again, I could
tell, no worries left in my mind. I looked up at his face--the desire was
written all over it. I briefly wondered what *I* was looking like,
overcome by desire, but I couldn't hold onto a thought like that for long.
It was so *right*. But I wanted more--my body did its best to get him
into me faster, deeper. I wrapped my legs around him locking my feet.
I hope I didn't scream. I know I moaned--I get so embarrassed about
that though I guess it actually makes it even better for a guy. Who
wouldn't want to have someone moaning?
And then we spooned--in my bed. And did it again, but much more
slowly. I felt it was hours I was lying there, him inside of me. I didn't
want it to end--I wanted to go to sleep like that or something. How could
something feel so right?
I didn't dare turn the light on. He'd fallen asleep. I stared at the
ceiling, thinking about him, thinking about sex and love, and thinking
about the conversation we hadn't had. And thinking about the phone
message.
I found his keys in the dark and managed to get out without waking
him. The streets were completely deserted as I drove over--it must have
been 3AM. I got into his apartment. Something made me keep the lights off
while I crossed the room: guilt about sneaking around, I suppose. I
reached the phone machine, and then had to turn on a lamp to see what I was
doing.
I often wake up first in the morning and find myself staring at Bobby
while he sleeps. And after all these years, I still wonder: was the phone
machine working when I left that message?
====
Date
by deirdre
-30-
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