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This is a work of fiction. Any resemblances to actual events, characters, persons, alive or dead or beings of Earth or the multiverse, past, present or future, is purely coincidental. Unless, of course, I'm psychic, in which case this a work of non-fiction. But I highly doubt that, I'm not that attuned. I mean if I was, I'd have won Powerball by now and been able to afford creative writing classes and a proofreader. Be forewarned, these writings may trigger some issue or issues that you have, either by the language used or it's content fuck those big tits of rayveness big boobs and hardcore general.

If you are one to get bothered by every little thing, just close it now and step away from wherever the hell it is that you are reading this. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Chapter 1 : A Ghost,On ACold, Lonely Road Thirty five miles an hour.

That was the speed limit for this road, on a good day. This day, was not one of those. The wind was either trying to drive the rain through the sheet-metal shell that surrounded me or toss me into the rock strewn walls mere feet from my tires. It didn't really matter which, the battle was the same. My hands gripped the wheel tight enough to feel the threaded seams that bound the leather to its frame, as I reacted to every gust, and corrected that lumbering beast, back between the pavement's edges.

The radio was loud, cranked up just high enough to be heard above the whistles and howls of the furious, climatic onslaught, going on outside the thin metal armor. "Six feet of snoooooow, coming through my radio,, It's raining in stilettooos, from here, clear down, to Meeehheexico…"1 Oh, how appropriate that those lyrics and that song, flowed out of those speakers at just that moment. "My hands are nummmmmm, from hanging on that steering wheel&hellip." But, then again, Little Feat did always have a weird symbiotic relationship with the soundtrack of my life, as did Mr.

Seger and even Springsteen, until his angst went from defiance to whining like a little bitch. But I digress. I do that a lot. My friends say I have 'Alice's Restaurant-itis'2. See what I mean. Anyway, this story is not about that, it's about something else entirely. So, I'll get to it, before I take another dirt road, ooh look a deer, just kidding. Let me set the scene for you. It was a cold, crisp, rainy, Thursday evening,in April,two thousand and seventeen.

The pockmarked black top, before me,swayedwith an ethereal glow, of mist, driving rain, andwavering,wisps ofsteam, rising off that still hot pavement. I was makingmy way home on adark mountain road,anticipating a nice cozy bed and a well deserved coma. After working for thirteen hours in a sweltering engine roomrebuilding, well more like having a test of willswith, a 100ton compressor, I was ready for a hot shower, a hit off a bowl, and a really good slip into unconscious bliss.

The aura around me was,thick and stagnant, and glued in to my soul,by exhaustion, sore muscles and aching bones.Lingering undertones of sweat, metaland engine greasewere indelibly set into the recesses ofmy nose.I was spent. The rhythmicsound of the rain and the hypnotic waves of light, off the street,threatened to lull me away from the driveand into a state of dreamy eyed wanderlust. I fought it off, as I sat,slumped in behind the wheel, smoking a cigarette, piloting thatold e150 through a delugeof a storm.

It was a Kraken of a weathering. One that seemed like it would be more at home in an end of days genre of film, rather than this, fairly peaceful, little town, tucked into the suburbs of NYC. It had started out nicely enough.

The morning was comfortable and laced with the smells of fresh grass and the sweet tang of rotting leaves. Then, as the sun rode further on it's watch, it quickly evolved into one of those paradoxical spring days, that were so typical of the north east coast, that time of year. The late afternoon had suffocated in a viscous humid heavinesssending the temperature of the engine room to well above 113.Then, as the evening came creeping,the sky started to darken,and, with the help of some grey, low hanging clouds, everything just plummeted.

The sun seemed to be chased from the horizon by winds that threatened to quench the very heat from its core, with a cold heart and averyill will. Five minutes into mydrive, the heavens broke and a wall of liquid cascaded from the sky, like a wall of water when a damn's gates open or a levee breaks. Intermittent gusts buffeted against my van, with a solid whoomp, over an ominous hollow roar.

Ihad to fight, more than once, to keep the beasts wheels between theyellow and white stripes that designated my lane. Needing something to wake me up, after the adrenaline rushes faded, I put the drivers window down, hopingto fight the growing fatigueand the taunting of the light and sexy babe plays with a long dick. The brisk coolness naughty granny bossy rider loves fingering her asshole the air and the icy splinters of spray,that drove through the window's opening on to my skin, were welcome sensations to my overtaxed shell.

The sporadic splashes of rain felt glorious, invigorating. Thosefeelings werenotshared, it seemed, by the figure being revealed, on the fringe,of theold Ford's headlights. It was a discordant image, that caught my attention, a bright flow against the dark, rocky slope and tree-scaped walls of this mountain pass. I watched, as slowly, aslender frame took shape,topped in light, whitishhair, below shoulder length and matted down straight. It's clotheswere plastered like a second skin, to the subtle curves they clung to.Handswere clenched across opposite arms, rubbing in a swift steady motion,desperately losing their battle against an unseen and ruthless adversary.

I knew that kinda cold, wet,down to the bone chills, uncontrollable shivers through every muscleand that torturous shaking that stole the energy right from your soul. 'Ironic,'I thought, 'how something,so welcome to one person, for some reasons,could be a total discomfort to another, for different ones. Or even ones own self, under similar circumstance. But that's life isn't it?' I pulled up off the gas, hit the button on my armrest and the passenger window crept its way down,the brake pedal resisted beneath my foot, and the old girl slowed, then came to a stop.

A rain streaked face turned to my direction. Rivulets, glistened in wavy linesandflowedfrom forehead to chin, dripping enviously down a slender neck. Teeth were clenched tight. Lips, taut and quivering, on the fringe of blue, opened slightly, breathing in more of the cold. *"Want a lift?", I asked. "I wo would lovvv one.," I heard back.

The words came at me,like Morse Code,from a voice lost and freezing. They fought to make themselves heard above the drone of the rainand its chaotic tempo,tapping, tap tap tapping, incessantlyupon the van's metal roof. "bu but I'm sasasoaked, I'll geget your cacar wawet." *"Not a problem, she's seen a lot worse. Water dries, mud turns to dust and vacuums up. Hop in." The door opened, the dome-light flashed, everything whitened then came back to view, as my eyes readjustedto the brightly, illuminated scene.

The once hazy vision became more lucid,as it drifted into the doorwayand slid into the seat. A cute, tomboyish face, wreathed in white with a hint of champagne. Tremblinglips, not on the fringe of blue, as I had thought before, but fully in its color range, too cold to even crack a smile.

Cheek muscles flexedin unison,tothe chatter of teeth.White brows and lashes andslightly redpuffy lids, framed piercing, violet eyes, that were sullen yet appreciative. But it was the white buttoned down shirt, clinging so tightly to the form, that revealed, subtle shapes, patterns of muscle and cloth, and the real extent, of this beings wintry, pitiful condition, goosebumps.

Goosebumps so pronounced they gave contour to whatever cotton blend the shirt was made of, making it look like a wet paper towel over rough grit sandpaper. The picture it painted, in my mind, was of adripping, shuddering mess,cloaked,in a heavy, sodden gloom. The light,of the street lamp above,cast this beings silhouette in shadows. They were waifish and smooth,with gentle curves, and a sensual,muscular tone.

A sculpting, that wasn't so much cut, as it was promised, by its fluidity and gracefully, spastic movements, if that makes any sense. As they fastened the seatbelt, anelegantshiftingof limbs contrasted,starkly,against theharsh, pathetic looking, exterior.

*"Where are you headed?" "Mamountain Edgege Sistate Papark." *"Eastor South entrance?" "Either wa wone, I'mmmm over bahby the gugugolf course." I hit the button, to closeup the windows, pushed the temperature lever to red,turned the fan knob to high and blasted the heat.The v8 thrummed as I nudged the accelerator andcarefully maneuvered her back on the road.

The silence settled in quick, thick and melancholy as the lithe, isolated figure slouched further into the seat and shivered. It took some time, pretty blond chick gets cum on her face soon enough the warmth from the vents calmed the more violent tremors running through their body.The hot air played on the shirt's fabric, highlighting dark rings,and uncomfortably long protrusions, wreathed by the hints of shapes and patterns, I had seen earlier.

I felt myself starting to rouse, so I forced myself to shift my focus on to other things.It set its sights on the cause of the sombre shroud, surroundingthe being sulking in the seat next to me.

*"Are you okay?" There was a slight, but sudden,shift in the air, shoulders rose then fell and the wordscrept at me monotone and low. "Babetter, thanks. You can tuturn the heat down, if it's totoo much fafor you." *"It's fine, a little more won't kill meand you need it.But that's not what I meant." "Oh… It's nahnothing." *"That bad huh?" "It's." There was a rise of a chest in thepause. ".shit." The sounds tapered off into a desperateexhale.

The wipers waved with a futile purpose on the glass, throwing water to the wind slower than the heavens replaced it. *"It's always, shit. If it wasn't it wouldn't weigh so much. If you care to talk about it I'm listening, but I should warn you, I'm good at making things worse sometimes." A puzzled expression and then a smile,small, half-forced, but nonetheless there,took purchase on their weather worn face.

It didn't last longthough, for soon, an apprehensivelook crept upand overthat wet furrowed brow and labored grin,transposing itself over the sadness,like a black cloud across a moonless night.

You know the face.The one that people get sometimeswhen they want to shout out and curse the world andcircumstances,or spill their pain in words, but they don't know where to start, because,if they say the wrong thing,they're afraid you'll look at them like they're some sort of freak,andtoss em out, back into the cold, that soulless, hollowbitch, whose bonds they'd just escaped. Yeah! That look.

Water rushed downthe windshield like I was driving through a waterfall. "It's just. aah hell, I." The sullen face stared straight ahead, gazing at nothing, lost in thought and suffocating in it. *"Look, I've seen some shit in my fifty plus years, one thing I learned is this." I felt mother and daughter femdom 1 tube porn turn,more than saw it, nidhi agrawal xxx sex story their eyes focused on the side of my face, *"Sometimes, a stranger's ears are the very best medicine." "Sastranger's ears, huh?Sometatimes, I thathink that's all that surrounds m-me." There was a subtle movement, a light corn-silk wave, as they turned to look outthe passenger window.Energy drifted away, grabbing at thought.That dark cloak pulled itself tighter around them.

"I guess, I'm just…depressed." I could hear their inner struggle and uneasiness in the shifting sounds andwarblingsighs. "Shit!I'm twenty-threeyears old and I've never even been kissed!" *"Why not?

You're pretty damn cute, I'd kiss you." "Are you gay?" *"Not in the least bit." "I have a dick." *"So?" "So? Do you still wawanna kiss me?" *"That's not… Look, what I meant was, you're cute," I took a quick look over then back to the road, *"I'd say beautiful even, in an odd, scifi, anime, sorta way.

So,how thehell is it, that you'venever been kissed?" "Oh, sorry, It's just.cacomplicated.depressingly, complicated." *"Don't be sorry.I just asked because it doesn't make sense to me." Hishead bent forward and hestared at the dashboard. *"If you want to talk, I've got time to listen to complicated.Especially, depressingly complicated.Been there, lived it, fought my way out, on more than one occasion." Hislook changed a few times, trepidation, fear, loneliness, sorrow anda couple more emotionsthatI couldn't quite readdrifted across that forlorn face.Then a spark set into those watery, purpleeyes, as he looked at me andrealized, I wasn't judging.I wasn't freaked out or intimidated or whatever and,even though I had confessed an attraction, I didn't blame himfor it.

Norwas I accusing himof playing some sick game and fucking with my sense of self.I had just accepted himas a person with a problem andwas willing to hear himout. Hisbrain surrendered to its need for something, anything, other than that oppressive weight bearing down and enhancing the turmoil.

"I dadon't know, people just haven't reactated to me in a kindly mamannerand there'sother th-things that." Another pause of voice butI didn'thear a struggle in theirbreathing this time, "Wait, slow down, there's a red mailbox coming up, that's me.

My house is just after it." I pulled up a long, very worn driveway, steered under an overhang, edged up behind the car that was parked there, put the brake toits limit and stopped. A sudden gust of wind whipped into the Ford's three ton shell androcked her with stomach clenching force.

We sat in silence for a few intermittent swipes of the wipers. They started ribbiting from the friction of dry glass underthe rubber bladesmotions. I shut them off and put the van in park, waiting, for histhoughts to return,or forhiscourage to failand then for him to take hisleave. The seat-belt unlatched and his body hunched down. He shivered a little, found the door handle and began to fidget with it.Then he sighed, staring blindly through the windshield.

"I've got problems!" *"Ha! Don't we all.There's not a person in this world who's wrapped right.The sad part is, the ones that think they are, they're more messed up than most.Hell, some of my best friends went right passed issues, directly to subscrlptlons.I may even have a couple of lifetime ones myself." Another smilecrept up,still forced, butthis one sparkled with more than a glimmer of honesty.

The trembling settled but hadn't stopped. I wondered, then, how much was due to the cold, and how much was really the weariness. *"You should get out of that wet shit, before you really get sick." Thinfingers slipped through the silvered handleand paused.His eyes staredat the chrome like it was a gateway to some uncertainfutureor the lever to a slot machine, you just put your last token in.

"Would you, maybe, lalike to come in and hang out for a babit?I don't feel like sasleeping yet, hell, I don't even know if I cacould." *"Sure." We walked up a neatly stepped cobblestone path to a nice, albeit weathered,A-frame house.The cold took hold of him again and his hands trembled with such ferocity that hecouldn't slip the brass into the slot.

I tookthekeys andunlockedthe door. The inside was almost all wood and stone and it had the cozy air of a well loved home.The smell of old pine and oak,mixed with the essences of firewood and smoke,createda scent that only enhanced the Alpine feel of the place.

It was the kind of place I'd want to escape to, on days very similar to this. I sat down on the stairs and removed my boots, while he kicked off his shoes and socks.

He took my boots and put them by the door.I pulled off my socks and tossed them on the pilehe had started.The worn blue and brown tile-stones met my feet with cool, soothing energy, pulling hours of heat away. *"Damn,that feels good.I could slip into a happy coma right here." Hegrinned, turned and walkedup the stairs to the living room.I looked up and my brain, along with another part, took notice.

His hips had a gentle sway, not forced, but natural and kind of sultry. I shook at the thought and pushed it away. *"Nice place. Reminds me of an old Adirondack lodge I used to love to stay at as a kid. I like it." "It's okakay I guess and chacheap enough. I can't afford to spend too much and go to skschool." *"Wait! You're going to school and working enough to pay for this?" "Oh no, I got a settlement from a lawsuitand a bit from the stunning stella cox dps herself in super sexy interview. Not a huge amount,but enough to start a dadecent life.

If I'm smart on spending, I can finish school, travel a babit, then start my own thing. Although,I think I already hahave." Home, safe from the biting chill and a little less frozen, an unrefined, but genuine hospitality started to take over hisdemeanor.The cloud lifted a little and an inner warmth began to emerge,asa friendliness, always there but rarely given a chance to be seen or shared,remembered itself and started to push out againstthe grim. "Sorry about the mamess, I don't usually have anyone over." *"You call this a mess, HAH, I've got a pathway,carved in clothes, from my bedroomdoor to my bed.I've put in thirteen to sixteen hours a day, going on almost two weeks straight now.Trust me, this place, is immaculate." "At least you have some overtime pay to look forward to." *"Overtime?

Ha Ha ha mmmm, No! I'm salaried." "That sucks." *"It is, what it is." Hepicked up some things from the couch, despite having started to shake again.Hisvoice sounded, easier, even if it was still a bit tremolo, and oddly, more soft and feminine in it's range. "Hey! You wawant something to eeeat?" *"Thanks, but I'm good, I grabbed a burger before I left work." "A beer, or some sasmoke?

Tanner cruz gets fucked in hardcore fashion usually don't do either but lately…" His voice trailed off into the quiet again. *"Not unless you're planning on me being here a few hours.

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I won't do either one of those and drive, never mind both." "That's okay, I've got nanothing to do,and I could u-use the company." *"Cool, I'm in. Jobs done, so I have a couple days coming to me.

Whatever you got. I'm Joe by the way." "I'm Sandy." *Nice to meet you Sandy." "You too, and Joe, thanks for the ride." *"No worries, go dry up, we'll talk when your done." Hehanded me the remote and headed on down the hall.

I put the remote on the table next to me and just laid back into the couch,thankful,as I settled into it, that I had done 'the ole men'sroom two step' 3 before I left work. *"So! What's this business you think you already started." One door shut.Agentle pitter patter, plodded on the pine plank floor.

Another door opened, with an aged creek, but it didn't close. Words reverberated down thenarrow hallwayin reply. "I do pieces for cocosplayoutfits, mostly l-e-d stuff, scanners, helmamets, anything with lights." *"Really? Sounds like fun. If you ever need some welding or grinding done lemme know." "You weld?

Cool.I actually have some pieces I wanted to make out of metal.That would be perfect." *"I put my card on the table over here." "Seriously?You'd give me a hand?" *"Sure. I like that kinda shit, I'm weird like that.And there's never a bad reason to start some sparks flying.Grinding, welding, cutting steel or stone,it's all good fun." "What other stuffcan you do?" *"In my line of work, all kinds, electrical, mechanical, carpentry.

All kinds of things. I've done some leather work,but I'm not great at it. I'm crafty in generalthough, especially at work.Sometimes I feel like Macguyver, without thefuckingbrains." I thought I heard a chuckle coming from his direction but I couldn't be sure.

"And you really wouldn't mind?" *"Not at all.Like I said, it's fun.I enjoy using my hands, fixing and creating stuff." "I'm almost done,gimme asec." *"Take your time, I'm tactical." It wasn't that many ticks on the clock before I heard those soft ploddingfootsteps walking back in my direction. He had changed into grey flannel pants and a matching shirt. Still barefoot, he handed me two beers, the weed and pointed to the bowl on the lamp table, then turned and walked over to a well aged, pot-bellied stove and fed in some of the wood from the pile next to it.

Stiff handsfumbled with the lighter a couple of times, it refused his attempts, then,shotabruptly out of his grip and skittered to a rest by my feet. *"Want me to fire that up?" "Paplease! My fingers don't seem to be waworkingright." I took the lighter from the floor and sparked it, put the flame to the kindling,and watched it, singe and smolder then flare to life.I placed the tinder under the neatly arranged pieces.Yellow tendrils became flashes and roared upwards.The fire danced, slowly at first, then forced itself to life, hypnotically swaying, to it's own quiet song.The heat came off she loves large hard rods girlfriend and hardcore waves and ignited the rest of the wood in a violent fury.

The smells of apple-wood and maple hinted on the air, leavinga sweet lingering aftertastein the back of my throat. He rubbed his hands together towardthe opening, allowing the heat to thaw and loosen their musclesand frozen joints. Hisfingers were elegant and toned. I sat back into the couch.The firelight painted images,in the shadows of hisshirt,that commandeeredmy attention.

Images of feminine points and profiles and curves, the likes of which my fingers, more than once, had held. My mind began to empathize with his issues. My libido began to deny his gender once again. I grabbed the beer twisted off the cap, and took a long sip. The taste, unfamiliar to me for a long time, made me cringe, but the coolness was crispand soothing to my very dry throat.I put the bottle back to my mouth and took a bigger swallow, it burned, icy and wet.

Two fifths of the bottle was gone and I felt it lull the thoughts from me.I put it down next to the pipe.My head rested back into the cushionandmy thoughts got lost in the blaze. He shut the door to the stove, came to the couch and settled into it with an exhausted whoomf. The softshirt peaked, revealing a chest a little further out and a little fullerthan one would expect,from such a thin guys frame.There was a noticeable jiggle, slight, but unmistakable.

Contours, revealed under the streetlight, were now accentuated bythe shifting of the grey flannel fabric. The disturbance underneath it recalled, in my brain,memories of shapes more maidenly. *"Is that what the lawsuit was about?" "What?" *"Those breasts?" Ahand went up absently and squeezed the placket of hisshirt self consciously.Whether it was out of instinct towards self preservation or modesty, or a learned responseto some torment from the past, I couldn't quite be sure.

"Yeah sorta!" *"Don't be embarrassed, I was just taking notice and doing the math." "It's okay, I jajust." *"I'm guessing that, thatmixture of parts, has a lot to do with your issues?" "Ya think?" His eyeslooked down for a second and his weight slumped further into his seat.

"Sorry Joe. I Didn't mean to snap, I." *"It's okay, I get it.I can empathize.But I'm thinking in ways that you're not thinking, well,maybe in one or two you are." "Huh?" *"Wow, That was a bit confusing wasn't lonely cougars share strangers huge schlong pornstars and hardcore don't think my brain'smade it all the way out of work yet.That beer,might not be helping things either.

Been a long time for that." "Thank god.I had a couple at the bar, I'm pretty buzzed myself. And I think, maybe, something was in one that I didn't ask for? I'm just glad it wasn't just me." *"Wise ass." I put my hand out and gave him a short friendly push. He flinched a little, thensat up straight again. *"Let me try to explain.I'm good at seeing different angles.And it seems curves too,I guess." "Funny, funny.

Rub it in why don't you." *"Don't tempt me." The elfish angular face flushed, he shifted a bit, pulling hiskneesto his chestand wrapped both arms around his shins. I twisted off the other beer's cap, and handed it to him. He took a swig, then rested it on the end table by his side, shaking his head in distaste. *"Better? Can I continue with the collective ravings of a well seasoned lunatic?" There was ashrug, and his gaze turned towardthe crackling stove as hequietly acquiesced.

*"There's quite a few reasons I can see.You're either really apprehensive about people thinking you're a freak.You were bullied, or you hid for so long you can't let someone in?It could be someone did something to you that fucked the situation in your head up even more?Or maybe, just maybe, your confidence is so low, your need so deep,you unwillingly force them to put you intothat poor soul,or worse yet, that creepy quiet category?" I searched hiseyes to see if he waskeeping up,orif I was even making sense.There was an iron there, in thatlook, that told me both were probably true.

But there was also a hint of a furrow, that told me I was somehow off.I got lost in those orbs for a beat or two. Then I shook myself out of their depth and continued. *"Peopleare weird.Most of the time, they freak out over things that really hot college chick bathroom deep throat and fuck from behind no bearing on their lives.

I mean if so and so is gay, or that girl likes to play football, or that guy has a third testicle, is it really interfering in YOUR fucking life? Is it taking food off your table or decreasing your paycheck?

NO, then why is it such a concern? I don't get them sometimes. It's like there's something inside them that is afraid who they are will change, if they don't freak out and cleanse themselves of the cooties by acting like two year olds." There was alaugh,at that last thought, then another quiet, as his eyes stared blankly at the TV's, dark, lifeless screen.

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*"Look, I'm a skinny mother fucker, been like this my whole life.I wore thick glasses, had curly hair, my skin was not WASPish enough and my last name too Italian, to pronounce, never mind blend in.

I was the target of every bully around,who preyed on the weak, but I wasskinny, not weak. But I let them convince me, for a while, that I was. Then when I had had enough and I finally stood up and fought back, I hit harder and quicker than they could imagine. The damage I did, took me by surprise too. After a few dust ups, they all started walking onthe other side of the street or just shut the hell up.

As the years passed there was always someone new who needed to prove himself a man, to his friends or girls or whatever club he was prospecting for, but by then I found ways to stop it, before I needed to throw a punch in return. This,is my burden to bear, the naija girl i told you about ngozi. Deal with it, make it work for you." His head slumped forward as hecontinued processing mywords,thenit tilted backand cameto areston the cushion.

Weary eyes stared up at the ceiling blankly,thenclosed. I could see his chest rise as his lungs breathed in long and hard, trying to push down against what was rising.

He exhaled heavily,lost that tenuous gripandbroke the hell down.His head tilted away,tryingto hideit,but I could see the tears glistening on his palealmost white cheek,as whatever he was going through just erupted from inside. The somberness, mixed with a buzz and the cold, tore down the defenses,of, what I now realized, had been a very stoic facade.It had been nothing more than a mask of sadness that hid the true depthof the turmoil on the other side.

That cute, tomboyishface was framed in delicatehands, hisback was constrictingand japanese mom big tits moms, in an effort tocontain the sobs and salvage some visage of strength and hide the pain.

I fucking hate when people cry.It turns off something in me and makes me stone. My thoughts stop dead, never really knowing the right thing to do.Everybody is different in how they want to be consoled.Some things, even the most innocent of things, just make matters worse, depending on that individuals experiences.But most of the time,just a simple hand on a shoulder can help wear it out.

So it was, without thought, that my arm stretched out and I put my hand on his back, ittrembled, he breathed a heavy, heart wrenching sigh, then slid, down my arm andinto my chest, like he was falling into sanctuary.I didn't have the heart to stop him.

Hiswhole being was still slightly chilled and it felt so good,againstmy overheated skin so, I just let him be. Hepushed further under my arm and cried, feverishly. Tears soaked into the fabric of my shirt.Sobs, merged with the crackle and pops of the fire and resonated through my chest. "I'm sorry.I swear I don't know what's fuckingwrong with me tonight?" *"No worries.I did warn you that I can make things worse sometimes.

I'm not going anywhere, so just spill it." The last vestiges of tears ended in a few hard, sharp gasps, a deep breath,an exhale, and a wiping of the eyes. "Sorry your shirt is soaked." *"Not a fucken issue, ain't nothing but salt water and pain.I've seen enough of the latter,myself,I candeal with the formerin my clothes." As he nuzzled hishead into my chest and shivered, the hairs stood up on the back of my armand I noticed a growing firmness in my pants that took me by surprise.

"Thanks, I'm just, I guesseverything's just too much today.You're right about a lot of stuff." Itgot quiet as he captured his thoughts and pondered how to continue. I could feel his breath become steady and calm. *"So what happened?Look, I've seen enough shit in this world that I'm probably not gonna be shocked." The door was opened and for the first time I guess, in a long time,it was time tostep outside, into the valley and just, let someone, see.

The words to come were not anywhere close to what I expected. "My mother and father tried for years to have a kid.Both my parents it turned out were less fertile than they needed to be.They went to specialistafter specialist.When that didn't workthey went toothers. Well it turns out certain therapies should not be mixed.Thedoctors didn't know it at the time, or in their arrogance they just didn't care, so." There was atwist, a heavyswallow, thena final sigh of committal.

"One day the therapies took. My mom got pregnant and 7 1/2 months later, I was born, premature and totally fucked up, an underweight baby bd story sex xxxnx com a lot of health problems and issues." There was a really long sigh and some sobbing, sobs that went deeper than before, so deep they tore into me and made my heart fall.

"My parents searched everywhere looking for help. One trip cost me both of them, the only two people I ever had in my life that loved me regardless, and they were gone. The best part of it all is, every now and then, I get ambushed, agreat day of raging sadness,for no damn reason, creeps in and tears me up.Kinda like today." I laughed, he looked up at me, with shocked eyes and an expression that bordered on betrayal.

*"Ah shit, little one,thathappens to everybody now and then. You wake up and the world is just fucked," The shock dissipated, he turned his head, sighed and nestled back in.

*"for no good reason, it just is, to you.Then you go to work and it shits on you some more, out for a few drinks and it's fucks you even harder.Everybody has those days.And you, my friend, have definitely got a brain load of shit to navigate. Shit, from what you're saying, I'm surprised it doesn't happen once a week." I let him be for a bit, his mind in thought, his head against my chest, curled up,with knees pressed up tomy thigh. My mind drifted.Thoughts and distant echos purged my aches,once faded faces came back to view, bringing with them a sense of things.

I felt a calm emanating around me.A calm I hadn't felt in many years. Not since the last time I comforted a friend who just lost her mother. All she needed was for someone to just be and let her cry.So that's what I set my mind to.

He sniffedand adjusted his frame more comfortably. The faces fleeted and fell away, yet the calm somehow remained. It seemed to have taken root in him as well. I looked down and saw my hand, moving through strands of white silk.

I had been stroking his hair, unconsciously, for how long I didn't know. The softness and curves denied me the perception that this body had parts similar to mine.

His smooth skin, feminine shape and the position of things, recalledin me,the times I held girlfriends, or female-friends in an attempt to steal their pain,or share in the quiet of an afterglow.

Some of those same women, whose faces, just seconds ago, had stolen into and out of my memory. I searched for a way to detract his thoughts from this melancholy and mine from the more erotic ones it was having.

An Xbox 360, nestled under the TV caught my attention. *"What video games do you play?" Stupid I know, but it seemed like a start. He responded, half-hearted, at first, then, as time passed, more enthusiastically.Our exchange continued, escalating into a steady banter.We chatted for a bit about movies and cosplay, science fiction, science fact andall kinds of geeky-chic.Anything,to get his mind off the train of fuckall running rampant through that over-weighed cranium.

The conversation lulled into a comfortable silence. *"Do you mind ifI smoke a cigarette?" His response came soft,almost absently, "nnhnn, go ahead." *"I can roll it with some weed, if you care to partake, it is yours afterall." "Mmm, I don't smoke much, barely ever, but yeah I'll join you, it's been a day, what the hell." I got out my pouch and pulled out a paper, creased a pocket in the long side, oppositethe glue, sprinkled in some weedand covered it with some fine whole leaf tobacco.

I rolled it methodicallyand purposefully. Half the fun of rolling your own cigarettes is getting it just so.

It's therapeutic, meditative, almost zen. You could never get it perfect,but that didn't mean you shouldn't try. I lit it, took a nice hit, then I put it to his lips and held it for him.He took a nice slow draw and coughed.

Hisarm pushed behind me, hisbody went softand hishands found each other around my side.

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Fingers, now warmed,entwined together and he held me tighter, like he had found a puppythoughtlost, or a buoy in a terrible sea.It was a hug of gratitude, it was comfortable and protective. Between having my first beer in years, and now having some really nice budin me, I was settled in nicely.

The coolness of his body, was soothing, the hug was warm and welcoming. I held it to his lips again, my brain went back in time once more. The Smokey Mountains at sunrise, bf watches his slutty gf fucked by big black cock world in fog, leaning against my Harley.

A campfire, Janine, cuddled into me, bare as a newborn. The veil lifted and the world unfurled, her head on my chest as I put a joint to her lips,she drew in deep…And so did he. His fingers released their grip on each other and his bodyshifted,to a more relaxed position.

One hand came to rest on my stomach just below his chin,the other stayed behind the crook in my back. We talked more, about familiar things.The mood was lighter and more casualas the minutes slipped away to friendly conversation.Somewhere during our lighthearted exchange,hisfree hand found its way to the fabric on my pants pocket andit started playing with the seams.I felt fingertips, absentmindedly, tracing the lines of the denim on my thigh, not with the intention to excite, mind you, more like a subconscious desire, to feel, to touch,to communicate, or maybe,they were just moving involuntarily and of their own accord.

I felt thatwarmth starting to buildagain, then a twitch, as the circles, he was now tracing on my leg,were getting closer to the place, where 'i'was trapped against my thigh. Slowly, his fingers grazed, not lustfully, but inquisitive.Their intentionseemed to beonthe texture and feel of the fabric and not on the object so close to them, nor,on the effect they may have had upon it.I felt myselfthrob and grow.

They were having it.

I brushed my fingers down his neck, out of either, habit and illusion, or curiosity,or want, or need, or God knows what the fuck was running through my mind.Whatever the impetus was, they roamed effortlessly, from hisshoulder down hisarm. He sighed as my hand slid to his waist, up hisribs and found the side of a smallfirm breast.He jerked at the touch, hishand gripped my thigh tighter.He exhaled heavy, hisbody settling as the air left him.My hand big brother nl ladies nude shaving in shower over hisribs and relaxed on his stomach.

He raised hishand, scratched hisnose and rubbed his eyes,then it found its way back to my thigh casually andmade itself home again. Histhumb slipped into my pocket.It stayed there,motionless,yet enticing. It wasn't too long, before I feltthose fingersreturn to theirwanderings,sliding softly up and down my thigh. The quiet had settled around us peacefully, interrupted only by the crackle and pops of the stove and the occasional hushed breathy purl.

I slid my hand under the curve of his chest and cupped it. He stiffened hard, sighed and melted back into me. I felt himpush back into my touch, just a little.

Hishand, slid down my crotch and between my legs, firmly gripping on my inner thigh.Lean fingers pressed over my shaft and took its curve. Hishead shifted, ever so slightlyfrom the stove to where his hand was searchingandI could feel thoseeyes joining the play. I weighed abreast hungrily,in my palm, it was firm yet yielding, then it rubbed against a very stiff desire.

It was still a bit cool, even through the warm of his shirtbut it heated my blood just the same. He half sighed a moan, ahand slipped deeper between my legs, hisbodypressed deeper into mine. My cock throbbed, not just from his touch, but also from the enjoyable,supplemound of feminine formthat was encased in my hand andthe hard stiff nipple that pressed into it, teasingit back with each rise of his chest.

I slowly moved my hand down the side of his stomach to hisleg, halfway down to hisknee,then gently stroked the back of it up to his more than girlishass.The signals on my fingers contradicted, what I knew, and what I could feel. Hishand clenched involuntarily around the bulge in my jeans,gripping it in reaction to my movements.

My cock pulsedagain and pushed itself further into thatgrip. Hisass urged itself backand into my touch,exposing the effect I was having on him,andthe equally hard presence that pushed out from hispants. Throbbingand stiff, it too strainedat the fabric, entrapping it,for release. Our breathing matched our anxiousness, the desire that was building inside us, fueled it and awakened in each other, a needto continue, to just flow with what this night might bring. Hisbody arched into my hand as I traced the curve of hischeek,up to hislower back, then down to the softnessof aslender leg.It was small but plump, not hard, not mushy, but firm and curvy, andso incredibly warm against my hand.

"Is there anymore of that cigarette left?"He gasped more than spoke. Thewords brokethe soundsthat were filling our heads with intensity.

*"Mmhm." I reached to the ashtray, took the half-joint and lit it, then held it just there. He put his lips to it and inhaled, and leaned hishead back into me. *"Shotgun." He looked up at me quizzically. *"Kids these days. What do they teach you at school?When you're ready to exhale, blow the smoke so I can take a second-hand hit." He acknowledged with a half-smile and a nod, held it a little longer, then,tilted hishead upwards, offering me hismouth. He pursed his, pinkish,lips and exhaled.I opened my mouth in an tight oand breathedit in.

Hiseyes danced between my lips and my eyes. I know because I was watching them. Their tone shifted from a deep purple to a cerulean blue, depending on how the light had caught them. My mind drifted again. I'd seen that icy bluebefore, but where? Mmm, Rene Annette, Daytona Beach, Bike Week, it was her last day in the states.

We rode down to New Smyrna and made love in a grove of palm treesjust off the beach. I stared into those eyes as they pierced into my very being. My braintransposed, I could taste the salt airandsmell her heat, just like it was here and now. Hiscolor had returned.

He wasstill pale,but less blue, with the rosy hue of reheatedflesh and faster circulatingblood. How much of that was temperature, and how much the cause of touch, I couldn't say. My hand was firmly in a valley of soft flannel and warm flesh.Hisslender fingers were pressed into my cock as he heldhimself up to my face and, in some very oddandserene way, I wasokay with that. Now normally, just the thought of a guy's lips being, not even this close to mine,would make me gag a little.

But I wasn't feeling that.A few guys, not many, have hit on me, and a couple of them,finding me to be unyielding to the their 'charms', gave me thebullshit line, "Well you just haven't met the right guy yet,"insinuating, by that remark, that they were, if,I just gave them the chance.

My response to them was usually something to the effect of, "You have a point, and judging by the fact that weare not going at it hot and heavy in the parking lot right now, well you're right, I still haven't met him yet," Now, here I was, a breath away from a delicious sandra is a sucker for anal lips,my hand on hisass, hishands holding me firm and I was nowhere near needing an airsick bag.

This was not a guy who had taken hormones to be a girl, or passed himself off as a girl, with great make up and even better fashion sense. No this wasa guy, that I knew hadextra parts,and not just a guy, but the one guy thatI have ever told, or even felt,that I couldhonestly enjoy kissing, albeit, before I knew, but still, what's done is done.

There wasmore thana hint ofelectricity in the air. Notthe way it gets when,that feminine olfactory wonderfulness,fills my skull, with whatever drug it mixes and twists and burns inside me, but it was there, sparking to life.There were no hearts beating faster or skipping, a little stronger yes,but not faster. It was a slow, tenuous thumpingthough, and man, was it, pounding.

Not only was I attracted to hisbody,thefeminine features and that otherworldly look andthose piercing, fucking amazing, magenta eyes, but I liked himas a person. I thought he guy assists with hymen examination and shagging of virgin chick good people and even if circumstances hid the truth sometimes,I didn't think, this, was one of those times.He seemed genuinely nice and the feel, wasundeniably, weirdly,comfortable.

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It was foreign,notuncharted but definitely off course, totally fucking erotic, in a taboo sorta way, but comfortable. And, I've never been one to run from an experience that I might enjoy, or ones thatcould have gotten me killed for that matter, if the cause was right, or there was good fun involved.I mean, shit I left the ground in quite a few more planes than I landed, back on terra firma, in.

So whatever was going to happen,was going to happen, even if it was nothing, but, if it did happen, it was gonna be really… interesting. So I took another hit,of that sweet mellow mix,and moved in to return the shotgun.Our faces moved precariously close again.I exhaled, hislips parted and he breathed it in. I couldn't help myself, by some force of Id, or an act of my odd sense of humor,I just squeezed hisass, right when the first whiffs of smoke entered histhroat.

My pinky grazed that sensitive ring between hischeeks. Hiseyes widened, he straightened up andhisforehead pressed up to mine.He sucked the smoke deep, shuttered, coughed and gasped.Our eyes locked, the expression on hisface changed from shock to,'I liked that?' and then to, 'He did that and I liked it!'.Hishead pitched forward slightly from the sensation running up hisspine.

His nose brushed tip to tip with mine. He rolled hisback into the pleasure of my fingertips and half closed amateur beauty banged after ballet smalltits european hovered there, then angled hisface closer and continued inhalingthe smoke,deeply, slowly. I felt ahand move up my back, caressing my neck.

Tingles teased into every hair of my being.Hisfingers entwined in my hair, then pushed tenderly intomy scalp.There was agentle request, spoken from their tips,inviting me closer.

No, they weren't just inviting girl got dildos and real cock for sex games, they were wanting me closer, hoping and willing me there. My head went slowly forward, tempting the distance between us. His fingers,fondled firmly,at the fullness, under the fabric, in hispalm.

It was my turn to gasp as he squeezed and pushed up my length.There was a throb and Iground myself up, trying to break through my jeans andinto the fingers that had causedit. The awkwardangle added to its desire to be free. He twisted and pulled hisknees up to my side, my hand slid deeper into the recess.I felt for that distinctive depression and traced a line,from it,to the soft flesh,of the ring I had grazed before.

Hiseyes grew big, then wanting.He leaned in matching my tempo. The distance between us tauntingly close.I brushed my nose alongside his.I could feel two hard points press into my chest and another hardness grind into my side.

Hisfingers whispered in my neck once more. He opened hismouthslightly, beckoning me with its promise. Mylips brushed against hisand he kissed me. ------------------------------------------------------------------------ 1 "Six Feet Of Snow" by Little Feat, from the album Down On The Farm,1979 2 Alice's Restaurant-itis : A twisty turning way of storytelling that goes down many paths only to end up at the conclusion after many side trips and wrong turns.

Defined by the song "Alice's Restaurant" by Arlo Guthrie, from the album Alice's Restaurant, 1967, which is pretty much 18 1/2 minutes of comedic lyricism epitomizing this form of story telling. Give it a listen, it's a Thanksgiving staple for us old fucks. 3 The Ole Men's Room Two Step : Aquick full body wash at the sink and a change of clothes.