Note: Initially, this was an exercise in writing. I read on another Blogger’s page that it was good practice to write a little something every day even if for nothing more than to keep the creative juices flowing. The desire to write this story was inspired by that simple idea. I CANNOT write erotica. Overall, it was actually meant to end up being funny. I promise, that is all it was. )
I always hated standing on my toes. It reminds me a lot of grade school gym class. ‘6 inches’ the P.E. teacher would say after I had already been through hell just touching my toes and reaching for the sky about a thousand times. I was already a healthy skinny kid so I hated P.E. anyway. I hated it so much I failed it all the way through high school. Over everything else I hated those damn ‘6 inches.’ That was torture on me back then for some reason, just as it is now; years later, standing on my tip-toes, nearly blind and in the dark to everything around me, and wondering what He was going to do to me next…
How I found myself in this predicament was simple. I had a drink with friends, came to my home, turned to lock up, and then a strong arm snatched me around, pinning me face forward to the back of the door. Before I could react in some crazed-survivalist act of retaliation, He wrapped his other hand around my neck, pulling me closer to him so he could whisper in my ear. “Oh, Baby…” It took me a minute, but as soon as my senses returned, I realized I knew exactly who He was by his near-breathless tone as well as his use of my very own words.
Without a word from me to alter or deter the situation, I was silently led through my darkened house by my determined, but careful, ‘Familiar’ who knew exactly where he was going as if by memory or scent. To the outside world, this five-foot eleven, tattooed, buffed, and WW-whatever that bloody show is called, Contender, was not one to take kindly to being crossed. In my case, he was not one to be denied.
Inside my bedroom, illuminated very little by the moonlight shining in through my window, I could barely see that the bed that had been made when I left was in a mass of tangled sheets and pillows and my comforter was nearly on the floor. He had been waiting a while, I understood, but it was still not yet a very good time for me to say a thing.
The air was thick with his strong manly presence when he moved up closer behind me. Standing still at the foot of my disheveled bed, he softly ran his slightly calloused hands up the back of my shirt and around the front, kneading my complacent skin into full submission. Every part of my mind and body came alive in that instant; aching, yearning, almost pleading to be stripped of my clothing in anticipation of the insurmountable pleasure that only he was able, I knew lately, to give. But still… I had to wait.
When his hands were finally satisfied with his desperate need to touch, he pulled my hands up from my sides, holding them into the air, slowly guiding my fingers to the black metal canopy railing that surrounded the entire top of my bed. Then I felt him. I didn’t realize he was naked until he pressed his throbbing flesh up against me as he moved to whisper again in my ear. “Stay,” was all he had to offer.
“Stay,” was all he needed to say. I had no problem with that. It had been three long weeks since I had seen or heard from him. I’d waited anxiously every minute he was gone for his return. What I did have issues with, after he quietly disappeared somewhere in the darkness of the room, was standing with my arms up over my head, hanging on to that damn bed railing with my feet 6 inches off the freaking floor!
I know, its kind of corny and maybe a little bit sexy, but it was something fun to write. Like I said, I cannot write erotica. This is about as close as I can get. Comments are welcomed.