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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.

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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.

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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. 😉

Caresses and Courage

Artist of the week: Mort Kunstler; pinterest.com

Holding Alyssa in the witness relocation program until the trial kept her out of harm’s way, but for my benefit, kept her alone with me for weeks. Day after day, I became her amanuensis, dictating the exact details from the crime that she had witnessed. Night after night, I became obsessed with her golden hair, her supple breasts, the loose bathrobe, and legs that I desperately desired to wrap around my waist and swallow my big ego. I was sure she felt the same way toward me as I often found her watching me out of the corner of her eye.

On the last night, I gathered all my courage to kiss her. Her soft, full lips melted into mine as her fingers caressed my neck and ran through my hair. Opening her robe, she invited me in, wrapping it around both of us. Finding her waist, I lifted her to my chest as we violently crushed our mouths to each other’s and stumbled to the bedroom.

The next morning I awoke naked to find her gone. She would not testify against those who meant to do her harm. And I understood, letting her go, still dreaming of our one passionate night spent together. But then I smiled, remembering her words. She had given me clues in her dictation as to where she would go – and where she wanted me to find her.

Escape to Passion Cove

Artist George Gross; pinterest.com

On our very first night together, Jolanda’s heart fluttered with wild affection for me. She told me so. Mine was no different for her, and we fell in love in that very moment.

Ours was a date that lasted a week, beginning with a helicopter flight to view the twinkling lights of the bustling city. Then it was off for a drive along the rocky coast with the ocean view to our right as far as we could drive. The wind wafted through our hair and a sunset over the horizon painted the sky pink. One of those beaches became our final destination, and a hotel by the water accepted cash.

Finding a quiet cove where the waves rolled up in soft foam, we let our impassioned hearts break free as we tore at each other like beasts. On a beach towel under twinkling stars, kisses became luscious desserts and caresses the buffet. When pleasure ripped through our bodies like thunder through lightning, our lovemaking intensified and excelled in orgasmic delight. Sea water rushed to the sand as our bodies moved with the rhythm of the waves.

That week was only the beginning. The cove was our point of contact, our pleasure cruise. Every month since, we have returned there, just to relive that experience. Yet no matter how many times we visit our Passion Cove, our pleasure only grows, outdoing the old experiences exponentially, making our love a wildfire that can never be extinguished.

Painting Dreams

Artist Edwin Georgi; pinterest.com

Under twinkling stars, the waves rolled up to the rocky beach. Like a spotlight over lovebirds, moonlight shone down on their beach towel.

“Okay, I have a surprise for you,” he said.

“I love surprises,” she grinned, her eyes beading wide. She shifted around to face him.

“Kiss me first,” he teased. “Then I’ll tell you.”

“Tell me first. Then I’ll kiss you. If it’s a good surprise. It is a good surprise, right?”

“Oh, the best.”

“Gosh,” she shrieked, “then let’s have it already!”

“And I should make it that easy for you?” he said, raising his eyebrows.

“Surprises are not surprises if you have to work for them. Those are called wages.”

“Fair enough,” he nodded. “I’ll just come right out and say it.”

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched him motionless, breathless. The pause was just way too long. “Well, say it!”

“The company’s sending me away,” he said.

“Away? From me?”

“No. Away from here. They’re giving me my annual bonus and since I was top salesman last quarter, they’ve offered me a vacation, any place, anywhere, for a week.”

Her eyes lit up. “And the surprise is you’re taking me with you?”

“Maybe, but that’s not the surprise.”

“Then what…?”

“I want you to dream a little. If you had unlimited money and a chance to do the most romantic thing on earth, what would you do?”

“Hmm,” she groaned. “Let me think… the most romantic thing on earth… I know!”

“Tell me,” he said. “But don’t tell me from there. Come here and whisper it to me.”

Grinning mischievously, she slid around the towel so that she was behind his back and leaning over his shoulder. “Let me tell you what I have in mind, my sweet lover,” she whispered sliding her fingers lightly over his strong round shoulders.

“I’m liking the tone of this already.”

“Oh, you’ll approve,” she assured him. “But don’t interrupt. I’m just getting started.”

Her breath was hot on his ear and her words slipped over his earlobe like a sensual tongue. With brilliant description, she painted the most perfect dream he had ever heard in his life. But she was a little overambitious. “Oh my,” he groaned. “I don’t know if we could do that.”

“Says who? You said dream.”

He was silent for a whole minute, scrutinizing her beautiful face. “Okay. Deal. Let’s do that.”

“Really?” she shrieked.

“Yeah, but it’s on my terms. I’ll bring everything you need. And we’ll enjoy our week together. Doing exactly that. Every single day.”

“I love you.”

“Now how about that kiss?”

“Hmm,” she flirted. “I think I’ll make you work for it.”

Immoveable Mountains

ed tadiello

Artist Ed Tadiello; pinterest.com

As immoveable as mountains
Worn from stormy gusts
Is my love that draws you near
And anchors your heart to mine.

Deep in your eyes is the flame
That kindles my love afresh.

There are riches in these hills,
Treasures of gold,
Treasures untold,
Refined and shimmering bright.
Is my love
That glistens for you.

Alone at Last

ed tadiello

Artist Ed Tadiello; pinterest.com

It had all started with a kiss. His lips on hers. In public. In the restaurant. Hundreds of witnesses. Henna’s ambiguous response to his advances did not deter his unwavering determination to capture her heart. He persisted. She pulled away. Yet all the while, day after day, he wore her down, made her promises that only he could keep and gave her gifts that only he could give. After a chance encounter at her friend’s wedding, she found him and danced with him and fell in love with him. In their dance, they touched, electric cords of passion coursing through their veins, uniting their hearts to one another until there was nothing else they could do but find their place of longing and rest, of solace and tranquility. So they found this place, off the beaten path, in secluded woods. It was here where they would consummate their deepest affections.