Midnight Escape

Artist James V Griffin; pinterest.com

Under moonlit skies that glowed deep purple through the haze, I sprang to attention, crushing myself behind the trunk of a tree in the forest. Waiting. I panted heavily after sprinting to this point, our midnight rendezvous. Sweat trickled off my brow and glistened in the moonlight on my robust pecs, bi’s, and tri’s. At a spot slightly lower than my belt buckle, my loins pressed hard against my tights as I thought of how I had left her.

She was on her bed, all spread out in a beautiful white flowing dress, like a darling lover that owned love in a thousand ways or a bride with the most lovesick groom. Yet sadly neither of these was true. Cassia was the proverbial princess stuck in the castle, under guard by a dragon – so to speak. The fire-breathing monster, otherwise known as her fiancé, was Centaurius – an arrogant swine who worked for her father and held to the belief that Cassia was his servant girl and lived to honor and worship him alone.

Cassia was miserable. That was until I snuck into her chambers late at night and told her that I loved her. It was absurd to think that a servant boy like me could love a princess like her, but it was true. I told her there was a better way outside the castle walls. A place where she could be free to live and love without suppression or abuse.

We talked all night and I told her how beautiful she was, not only on the outside – which was incredible as it was – but on the inside, with her sweet charm and her gentle voice and her smile that radiated from a place of pure love and joy of spirit. I told her how I had had a crush on her for years, while she never even knew I existed. By morning, I think she had changed her mind about me and began to see me in a different light.

I returned to her chamber the next night and we kissed for the first time. But for fear of the guards, I left before we went any further. Night after night followed like this and we desperately wanted each other. Finally, we could stand it no longer and made love in silence on her Egyptian cotton and goose down sheets. Trying to keep silent was a challenge. When we were writhing in rhythm and she was biting hard into a pillow and moaning like a she-wolf, I was sure that we would be caught. Thankfully, no one interrupted us in what was so good and lovely and ecstatic.

Finally we made plans to escape. We would meet at midnight on this day at this very spot in the forest, far from the castle grounds. But it was risky. At first, I worried that I wouldn’t see her again. For her to leave meant risking everything just for me. And what could I offer her but my love?

And then suddenly, my heart leapt for joy. My panting had just subsided when I saw her through the trees, rushing through the forest in her long white gown, like a bright ghost in the woods. As soon as I saw her, I ran to her, too. We met in a strong embrace – a victory celebration of sorts. I could feel her breath on mine and we kissed long and hard, knowing that she was finally free! They would come looking for her. But not tonight. As our kiss deepened and our clothes were shed, we seized the moment, latching onto each other in the cool night, making passionate love under the moon that had witnessed our daring escape.


Desiring Penny

Artist Samson Pollen; pinterest.com

All flights from New York that evening were grounded. Ice on the runway. They wouldn’t even let anyone consider taxing out of the gate until noon the next day. That resulted in a stroke of luck for me when it came to getting close to Penny Lynn Foster, my secret crush and the love of my life.

Desiring Penny was something that had begun in my heart from the first moment I met her. She was a charm, a jewel with a thousand crystals that shined so brightly that I could hardly see for a few moments before realizing I was in the presence of someone extraordinary. Her bright, bubbly, courteous, and downright sensual personality won me over, as well as her fiery red hair and thin low-dip t-shirt that hugged firm breasts. I wanted nothing more than to have her on my flights and keep her there.

As a pilot, I had the option of choosing the flight attendants that worked well with me, so naturally, Penny ended up on most of my domestic flights and every single international one. On those long flights across the Pacific, when my co-pilot would take over for a while, I would spend some time in the quiet silence – while passengers were lightly snoring – and got to know Penny through friendly conversation. We would talk and flirt a bit, then laugh and flirt some more. I learned more about her during that time than any other time we had been grounded together. I learned what she loved, what she despised, what she wanted to do with her future, whom she had dated, and many more questions and answers that let me into the world of beautiful Penny Lynn Forster, whom I had fallen in love with.

Now as flights were grounded and we were holed up at the Meridian together, we found ourselves strangely in two corner rooms at the end of a long hallway of otherwise empty rooms. The other members of our crew had found their own accommodations for the evening as many of them lived near our airline’s New York City hub.

So it was that night that I decided to take a chance. I knew she liked me, too, but I also knew that regulations prohibited pilots and flight attendants to fraternize – on or off the plane. So it was a risk, but one that I decided to take. After all, my heart could take it no longer.

It was well after midnight when I knocked on her door and it creaked open. I grinned, wondering if she had known that I’d be coming over to her room. Inside I heard the running water in the bathtub, so I slipped inside the living room area of her hotel suite and shut the door. Steam was coming from the bathroom, so while she was occupied with her bath, I took to the bar and poured two drinks over ice. I wasn’t exactly a stealth ninja fixing the drinks. When the glasses clinked together, I heard her delicate voice from the bathroom.

“Make sure you shut the door, Davey,” she called. “It’s awfully drafty with it open.”

I stepped into her bathroom with a wide grin. She seemed pleased to see me in just a bathrobe – loosely tied at the waist, revealing body parts in a tasteful yet teasing way. How seductively delectable Penny looked in the bath, covered with suds.

“Care for a drink?” I asked, handing a glass to her. I sipped mine. The tonic went down smooth.

“Care for a bath?” she flirted with wanting eyes, her tongue sliding sweetly under her teeth on the “th” sound of the word “bath.”

I was silent, sipping my tonic and staring at the body that I wanted to bathe more than anything in the world. She was appraising mine as much I was hers.

“You must be even more exhausted than I am,” she said, “coming in from Chicago in that weather. Why don’t you let me … take care of you for a while? Isn’t that what flight attendants are supposed to do? Attend?”

After I placed my drink down, I slipped off my bathrobe. Her eyes widened in delight.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I said as I stepped through the suds into the hot bath, joining the girl of my dreams.


Author’s Note: This pic actually came with a short story written in 1965 that began with the same first sentence as my story: “All flights from New York were grounded.” I took this sentence and ran with it, obviously changing the story and making it my own. 😉

Weak Assumptions

Artist Elena Berezina; pinterest.com

As the heavy downpour pelted our canvas tent, thunder resounded across the forest like the crash of cymbals in a symphony orchestra. The wind picked up in gusts that rocked our tent, but the foundation had been well set. Consequently, we remained safe and secure from harm inside our haven from the storm that raged just beyond the thin fabric of our tent.

Calantha lay back on her pillow over her sleeping bag. It had been a long day of hiking to get here before the storm broke. Together we had helped each other climb cliff-wall precipices, cross narrow wooden bridges over steep ravines, and wade through river rapids that practically swept us to our death. We never would have made it if it weren’t for one another out there.

Now as I observed her satin blonde hair, her full tempting lips, and her smooth round cleavage beneath her sheer silken negligee, I was painfully reminded of the promise we had made each other at the start of this exhibition.

No touching. No flirting. No teasing.

She was engaged to a rich tycoon who owned an industry that prided itself on taking advantage of the weak and defenseless. I had assumed she had just wanted him for his money. I had assumed a lot of things about Calantha before this hike, before we had spent time together, before I had fallen in love with her.

Now as I unabashedly appraised her delectable body, her long lustrous legs, her white cotton panties, her dainty pink nipples that peaked through the silky material, I wished in a dream that she could be mine. I wished she would forget all about him, his money, his power, his prestige – none of which I could compete with.

Then I noticed that although her eyes were closed, she wasn’t sleeping. She knew I was watching her, needing her, longing for her. Her eyes opened weakly as she frowned in frustration, fighting her feelings that must have mirrored my own.

And then quite spontaneously, I slid closer, throwing all previous promises asunder. I kissed her, feeling the warmth of her lips on mine. To my delight, she kissed me back, sliding her tongue easily into my mouth and pressing against mine fervently. She moaned and panted in sensual pleasure.

Yet she still fought her feelings. “No!” she whispered heavily, but still kissed me hard. “We can’t do this, Davey, we…” She stifled her next words with another kiss as she moaned deeper. “I don’t…yes. Oh, yes. We must. We must,” she finally panted with tears in her eyes, throwing her arms around my neck.

In the end, our overwhelming desire for each other won out. We had fought the forest and arrived at the tent victorious. We had also fallen madly in love and there was no use fighting it any longer. In sync with wild nature that raged outside our tent, we let loose every inhibition and made love that night to the sounds of howling winds and crashing thunder.

An Escort Across Wild Plains

Artist James V Griffin; pinterest.com

Panting in gasps, I dropped to the dusty ground and clutched my right arm. I winced and felt the place where the bullet had torn flesh. At least we had finally made it out of harm’s way. But who knew how long it would last? Anyway, we had no choice but to camp here. This was our only opportunity to rest before we continued westward. Plus, a storm was brewing in the north with thunder rumbling under heavy cloud cover.

In the light of the campfire, I saw that my shirt sleeve was soaked through with blood.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood,” said Primrose anxiously as she scooted closer to me. She pressed an expensive-looking silk handkerchief to my wound.

As she did so, my hand covered hers and immediately the magnetism of allurement coursed through our bodies. Our eyes met and her deep browns sparkled with the reflection of the firelight. Her gaze was seductively sensual, imagining in one moment all that she wanted in a western romance.

“I’ll be all right,” I said. “Thankfully, the bullet just grazed my arm.”

“I’d call that deeper than a graze,” she replied. Her fingers were a delight on my skin, surprisingly warm and gentle. As they worked on my arm, I caught my breath and leaned back, allowing her better access to me. I also noticed that her long flowing dress was filthy, having been dragged through the dirt when she was yanked from the stage coach by brigands. Part of it was ripped at the top and was slipping down to reveal a lovely breast.

“There’s too much blood,” she said. “We’re going to have to remove this shirt.” Her eyes lifted to mine, waiting for my approval, a hint of lasciviousness showing in her bright gaze.

I tried to unbutton the top, but my right hand wouldn’t move that way. When I tried to force it, it stung like it was stabbed with a knife. I winced again.

“Let me do it,” Primrose said, her fingers plucking one button at a time, opening to my wide chest and sturdy abs below. I could sense her resistance to her own feelings, caught somewhere between wanting to act as my nurse and treat my wound, and wanting to feast on my skin that was laid bare before her.

She left my shirt hanging at my waist as she watched me and lightly panted, her emotions writhing with desire. “I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t gotten there when you did.” She paused and leaned closer. “You saved my life.” With that, she crushed her lips to mine, her right hand resting gently on my cheek as our tongues met.

“You’re traveling alone across the western plains,” I said. “Maybe you need an escort.”

“I don’t even know your name.”

“Call me Davey.”

“Are you for hire, Davey?” she asked me, her lips full and swollen in the light of the campfire. She was leaning into me now, pressing her body to mine, feeling something of mine pressing back.

“Primrose,” I responded. “From you I won’t take a dime.”

“You saved my life,” she replied flirtatiously. “There must be some way I can repay you.”

I grinned, gazing into her eyes, lightly sliding a loose tendril of hair away from her beautiful face. “I think we could think of a way. Don’t you?”

“Absolutely,” she smiled meeting my mouth again with hers as my hands lifted her hips up to mine.

Bathing in Love

Artist Albert Slark; pinterest.com

Barbets and finches chirped and warbled with songs echoing across the forest as the bright afternoon sun kissed the green ferns of our own tropical world. The scent of hibiscus tickled the air as the waterfall cascaded over rocks, pouring into the reservoir where we stood waist-deep in warm tranquil bliss. I had always wanted to take my darling Chloris here when I had the chance. It was an old swimming haunt of mine, and when I wasn’t filming in the outer reaches of the jungle with the crew, I would slip away unnoticed and find this place, my haven and retreat, my sanctuary of sorts.

With Chloris here, everything finally felt right, and I knew why I had discovered this hidden cove in the first place. As quiet as the nature that surrounded us, we spoke very little, but we aroused much. Our bodies melted into one another as our mouths met and the tepid water enveloped us. As we kissed, nibbled, and licked, our hands explored and tantalized. Soon fire built up within each of us like dry pines set ablaze in a forest of torrential passion.

After a long, deep, wet, heart-thumping kiss, she slid her hands below the surface of the water and found her target – my bathing trunks – which easily slipped off underwater. We grinned mischievously into each other’s mouths as our delectable kissing persisted. Spinning her around, I brought my tongue down to her neck, teasing and tormenting her inner desire until we succumbed to the forces that drove us.

Later, arriving back on set, the make-up girl noticed how flushed I looked and wondered where I had been. I said something to the effect of taking in the pleasures of the jungle, but also that I was in a hurry to finish this scene. After all, I had to get back. My Chloris was still waiting for me under the falls, bathing in the love that filled her heart.

Our Private Declaration

Unknown artist; picssr.com

Immediately after work on Friday afternoon, I hopped on the Harley, revved her engine with a loud pop and drill, and bolted down the interstate with the wind through my hair. The rocky coast lay to my right as foamy waves rolled over jagged boulders on the beach. Stretching to the horizon, the placid ocean seemed to echo what was in my heart – pent-up sexual energy that fretted in wait for high tide to crash upon the shore.

With every loving thought of Cecilia, my mind became an ocean of desire that longed to find her and wash over her all of my sensual prowess. The fifteen-minute drive was almost unbearable – the pounding in my heart, the throbbing in my loins. I had to find her before my lovesick heart burst.

Finally I reached the top of the hill where the wind was stronger, the view was more panoramic, and Cecilia was waiting for me. Lying barefoot on the grass in a silk blouse and tight mini-skirt that hugged her curves, she appeared to be sleeping. But at the sound of my Harley, she sprang up with a wide smile and the wave of her hand.

I dropped the kickstand of the Harley near the grassy hillside where she lay and rushed to her with breathless anticipation.

Surprising her, I lifted her into the air to her jubilant laughter and spun her around twice. When I brought her down, I pressed my lips to hers. “Cecilia, I could hardly wait to meet you here,” I breathed into her mouth as my hands held her waist.

“Same here,” she replied matching my panting pace. “What do you say we enjoy that picnic we planned?”

I looked around for the food, the plates, the picnic blanket, but there was nothing but grass. I think she had something else in mind as we kissed deeper, longer, fuller. The heat between us was a palpable thing and we could barely contain ourselves. As we kissed, we moaned. As we moaned, we drew nearer. Cecilia was unbuttoning her blouse as our tongues met and bathed each other.

As she sat down on the grass, she drew me over her and opened her legs, allowing my hands to explore her creamy smooth thighs. At the same time, my tongue found her neck and made her moan from a place deep within.

Cecilia and I had always been madly in love since the moment we met. But as both of our lives were lived in the public eye, it was impossible to be alone without the gossip and scandal that accompanied it. So today we finally found a place.

Our field. Our picnic. Our private declaration.

Moonlight Dreaming

Artist James V Griffin; pinterest.com

Moonlight from the open window delicately brushed Primrose’s cheeks as I held her close. I could feel her warm, wanting breath panting over my mouth.

Her voice was desperate, longing. “I have to have you, Davey. Tonight.”

I watched as the moonlight danced flecks of silver in her bold brown eyes. Her brunette hair cascaded in waves down her back and every pore of her creamy smooth skin cried out for the nourishment that only I could give.

With one hand behind her back, I brought my other one to her dress and pulled it down over her shoulder, exposing the top of her breasts. As her fingers slipped around my neck, she pulled me in and our mouths met. Her lips were softer than clouds drifting in a summer sky and I pressed mine to meet them with red hot passion. Our tongues licked each other’s meticulously slowly, teasingly. Warmth spread through every corner of my body, delighting the senses.

Finally we could take it no longer as I scooped up her legs and brought her to my bedroom.