Message-ID: <18147eli$9812200447@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: <URL:http://www.qz.to/erotica/assm/Year98/18147.txt> From: Silverlink <silverlink@altavista.net> Subject: (Silverlink) Now that he's gone (F-solo rom festive) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Original-Message-ID: <1998121923081076942@altavista.net> Now that he's gone Copyright 1998 Silverlink You may distribute this story as you wish, provided that you attribute it to me. I apologise if this is rubbish. It's my first attempt, and is probably pure cheese so do not feel obliged to be kind. This story is rude. It has sex in it. Do not read if you're not supposed to. Now that he's gone ------------------ The little lights twinkled gently on the tree. They had chosen them together. Kelly sipped her tea and watched the play of colour on the baubles they had bought and the silly, gilded cherub ornaments she had picked up just the previous week on the way back from work. They'd made Chris laugh when she hooked them on to the branches, and she'd accused him of having no taste. She had known Chris for a few years, but they had only moved in together last January in a rush of love, excitement and New Year's resolutions. For this first Christmas together, they had needed to buy decorations; having just moved away from their respective families, they'd had to buy so many household things for the first time together. It felt like a real bond between them. She had always felt they were going to be together forever. Now, here she was, with a mutually owned tree in the front room, joint custody of a frozen turkey and a man who'd gone away. Kelly sighed, then started as she realised that her thoughts were once more turning to his cheeky smile. The flat was just too empty without him here. It was impossible not to see all the space that he wasn't occupying - and so cold in these draughty rooms without another body to keep her warm. Not only was she lonely, she was horny too, but it was only him she wanted and he wasn't about to make himself available, not now. Wandering through to the back of the flat to their bedroom, she placed her mug of tea on the bedside table, and sunk down onto the faded blue bedspread that she'd brought from her parents' house but which had become completely theirs. Damn, she thought, it smells of him. The musky odour was faint but distinctive. This was the smell of her man. It was home, it was love, it was sex and comfort and, unfortunately, it was misleading, just the last traces of his occupancy lingering in the cloth. She realised her hands had strayed to her breasts. Beneath the lavender-coloured pyjama top, her nipples slowly were coming to hardness, her body deprived of another's touch and reacting to the familiar scent. Rubbing her nipples with her fingers through the brushed cotton fabric, the pressure combined with the friction of the soft cloth sent a thrill, gentle but unmistakeable through her body. Shit, she thought, maybe it'll make me feel better. The buttons were soon undone, and although the warm pyjama top still provided her shoulders with necessary warmth, her breasts were now bare. Firmer now, she squeezed the nipples between her fingers, rolling them gently around a little, then taking a breast in each hand she squeezed, enjoying the sensation. How many times had he lain here in this bed, next to her, with his lips on these nipples? He'd loved to suck them, taking one breast in hand and caressing and squeezing gently as his lips and tongue enjoyed the warm, pink tip. His other hand often slid around to caress her bottom. Oh, how he'd loved to pet her bottom! He'd stroke it, pinch it, slap it gently. He never seemed to tire. Chris used to say that he loved her curves. She wasn't fat, but she was a curvy woman alright and he'd adored it, tracing the indentation of her waist before moving down... Kelly's hand slipped down beneath the elasticated waist of her pyjama bottoms, and greedy fingers soon found a home in the moisture her excited body was generating. How she'd loved him fucking her! Before she'd met him she'd been with others, but now... now she could only get turned on by him. They were bonded, to her mind, together, a pair. She belonged to him. She was his lady. She was the one who should be riding him, feeling her moist insides sliding up and down on his erect cock. Yes, she should be riding him. Kelly knelt upon the bed, facing the pillows and tugged her pyjama bottoms down, baring her arse and allowing full access to her hole. Her left hand strayed back to her breasts, rubbing them with her palm as the index finger of her right hand slipped just inside her, and then out to rub the small but sensitive clitoris. She moved her hips back and forth, rubbing her sex parts against her second and third fingers as she stimulated her breasts. Kelly could almost imagine that he was beneath her, hiw hands rubbing her engorged nipples as she fucked him, rocking back and forth and feeling the length of his cock inside her. Her clit was rubbing onto the base of his cock as she pushed herself onto it as hard as she could. With his scent in her nostrils and her fingers dripping with her own juices she pictured his face, his bare chest, the brown hairs upon his belly. It was then, as the excitement headed for a peak that she began to speak. His name first, quietly. "Chris, Chris, Chris", then the dirty words he loved her to say when they fucked. "Yes," she murmured, quietly to herself but with the intimacy of a lover, "fuck me, yes fuck me my darling, give me your cock. I love your cock." This always used to get him so excited, and she loved it too. She was his dirty girl when they were like this, and she adored watching the contorted expression of ecstasy as he shot his warm sperm into her. "Give me your lovely come, I want it inside me, come on Chris, fuck me oh yes fuck me come on fuck me..." She lapsed into silence as an orgasm shuddered through her body. For a moment she was frozen still as the shock of pleasure hit, then she slumped forwards onto the bed, her face upon the pillows and her hands still beneath her on her body. As little aftershocks ran through her and her hot insides contracted in the spasms following orgasm, she found herself surprised that she'd been able to get so carried away. Physically she felt marvellous, but no matter how satisfied, there was still an empty place inside that the orgasm couldn't reach. It felt great, but Kelly was still lonely. When the sensations subsided she pulled up her pyjama bottoms, and then sat up and slowly buttoned her top. Reaching for the tea at her bedside, she found it still slightly warm, and she drank it down quickly. Her throat was dry. She stood up and walked to the kitchen, placing the empty china mug in the sink. That one mug looked lonely too. Had the both of them been there, they'd have used the big blue teapot instead of putting a single tea bag into a mug. She missed him. It wasn't just the sex, although that had always been fabulous. She loved him. It was as simple as that. It was so hard to get used to his not being there. As if to answer her thoughts, the phone rang. She ran to answer. It was him. It could only be him, this late at night. Strange, how much warmth it brought to her face, warmth that she only had found when, lost in orgasm, she had for a moment forgotten that he wasn't there. "Hello love." "Chris! Hello! How's your mother?" "She's fine. She sends her regards." Kelly sat down on the carpet and cuddled the phone to her ear. On the conversation went for a time, as he talked about his old home town, and how it was nice to be back but how much he was looking forward to coming back to his real home. Waiting for it wasn't going to be easy, but soon it would their first Christmas together. The End. -------- Witten by Silverlink for Christmas 1998. I hope it's wonderful for all of you. No, not the story. Well, that would be nice, but I would not dare presume. I meant Christmas. 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