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The trip to the station had been an interesting start to the day. I’d got to the end of the road picking up a coke can off the floor by the green junction-box at the corner and got a smile from a little old lady, in a coat that dwarfed her, wearing what appeared to be a tea cosy on her head, a blue one.

It’s been raining, with an awesome looking grey sky, with dark patches that promised Liverpool some hideous weather. But that had not mattered a jot to me, as I’d soon be on the train and travelling to the North East and Whitby, to visit my penfriend Salome.

The pity had been the delay at my own station and the fellow in the black cowboy boots worn beneath his smart black trousers and black trenchcoat. He’d stared, for ages and, I’d been damn pleased when the train had hissed into the station.

The journey had taken twenty-two minutes, or thereabouts and soon I’d been on the escalator leading into Liverpool Mainline station, following the girl in the black leather, whose light blue-jeans seemed sprayed to her derriere. That had held my attention too long and, I’d tripped at the top of the escalator, then had to regain my balance, as I’d rooted in my pockets for my tickets to go through the barrier. Well, needless to say it had been buckled, so would not go through the machine and, the guard had offered assistance, eventually.

Unfortunately a mobile call had held his attention, as I’d stood there, with a growing queue behind me. Anyway, I’d got through tha barrier then made my way down the corridor with the fellow playing the accordion to my right, playing ‘he aint heavy, he’s my brother’ and, he’d sounded so good that I’d had to leave him some change, which had been stuck in a pocket, within a pocket. And, when I’d got upstairs I’d only had a short while to wait, until my train had arrived and, I’d been sitting in a window seat, looking out at the moving green, as the train sped on.

Salome had offered me the couch for the weekend and, as I’d not seen in her in seemingly forever, I’d been glad of that. I mean, she and I had been writing for over three years now, ever since I’d responded to her personal ad; ‘looking for a penpal, not a norm’. Her ad had me smiling, as I’d read it and I’d answered it, within less than a day, anxious that she got my response, before any others.

What she’d written had got to me, goodstyle and, I’d been glad that she had replied, with a letter that had been the beginning of a wonderful friendship. And, though I’d never seen a photo of Salome, that had not really mattered to me, as I’d set out. Nor did it matter that she’d seen what I look like, a greying fellow of forty-eight. At least she had not been scared away. Thankfully.

I’d found so much company from our correspondence. I mean, I had found in Salome someone I could really connect to and talk with about something, anything and everything; even though she’d been new to our country, unfortunately having more than a little trouble, getting her national status straightened out.

And, as I’d got off the train finally, after the annoying child had escaped with his young life after squawling like a banshee, the last bit of the journey, when the train was serving as a local shuttle-service.
‘Cute’ that child may have been, but I’ll swear down, when you’re listening to the speaker, to make sure you get off at the right station and, the mother’s chatting away loudly for much of her journey, to her mate, she’d be seeing within less than ‘arf an ‘our, while her small blonde-haired little bundle of two-year annoyance squealed away, can be so very irksome.

But, eventually I disembarked and was walking midst the throng, to the stations exit and the end of the road, to begin following the path that had been written down for me, by Sweet Salome. Geez did I need those directions; my copy of the A-Z didn’t have her address on it and, I’d got it from the library and the estate had been there for over sixty years.

Yet finally, I’d found my way up a hill and the cul-de-sac where the post-war pebble-dash home’s sat on the edge of a pile of slag, left from a cities industrial past. And, I’d made my way up a weed-strewn path, bag over my shoulders and, thoroughly aware of twitching net curtains, as an old purple-rinser or two had a nosey at the stranger, calling on Salome.

And, with heart beating fast with my anticipation I’d pressed that little white round circle, that depressed and, a moment later the bell sounded. I’d heard her footsteps on bare floorboards, as she pegged it down the stairs in heels and, through the frosted glass I’d seen that she was wearing red and that Salome had dark short hair, crossed to her slim neck.

Yet it had still been a puzzle solved, when she’d opened that door, a nervous smile, playing on her lipstick coated red lips: “I did say I was an illegal alien, didn’t I?” She had told me, almost in tears. Though the area wasn’t too great, her dress was stylish and I’d say expensive and, her court shoes had been red patent leather and, she’d been wearing black nylons and, she had one eye.

Now I’m not saying that she had ever had two and, one was damaged or missing, Salome was and is a Cyclops; which had been a bit of a surprise. Granted, the one she has is quite lovely; but there is only the one, which she had explained is the case for those of her race. But, I have no issues with her being somewhat ocularly challenged.

After all, she has been a wonderful penfriend and, when she asked for someone not normal, she got me; poor girl. And, she’s always been so-tolerant of my foibles and particular peccadillo’s. Aye, I truly love her for that.

Anyway.

Later after tea, she tells me that we’re going to her local, where we’ll meet two of her friends, also with a similar status as hers. She says, that’s one’s a little ‘different’.

Well, taking into account, my pretty penfriend is a Cyclops, I wonder what she means by that?

COMMENTS

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Crowscat
03:04 Sep 04 2019

Now this was a twist I wasn't expecting...I love the way you've gone with this...I wonder if you ever find out what she meant? I am curious now!

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Not intended for minors.

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Memories of Love and Lust – Part Two

Debbie was upstairs in the guest room, looking ever-so cute, her shoulder-length rich brown hair splayed all around the pillow beneath her head. Peter, Bev’s partner was in their room, across the small landing from where she slept.

He’d gone to bed last, having stayed up with me to try and finish the ten inch joint we’d built together, “laid to fuck” and “going down smooth.”

But, he’d had polio as a child and we’d walked a lot in town, and tiredness had caught up with him; so even he had gone upstairs, leaving me with instructions as to which light to turn off, before I decided to retire myself.

So there I sat cross-legged before a full ashtray, half a glass of wine before me and at least five inches or so, of the well-rolled joint left between the fingers of my right hand.

Then, the door opened and I’d looked from the slim bare feet, up the calves, to the shapely thighs, as Beverly entered the room and closed the door to the stairs.

She was wearing a long grey, baggy tee-shirt, that reached mid-thigh.

“I couldn’t sleep, maybe too much wine,” she’d told me with a smile.

The wine had got to me as well; but I'd found it's affect quite liberating.

“I’m going to get some water,” she informed me, briefly looking toward me as she passed by, on the way to the kitchen.

My eyes followed her bare legs, as she walked between the gas-fire and the sofa through to the kitchen.

After a minute or so, she was back and standing near me, as I continued to pull away at that stogie of a spliff.

“Do you want some?” I’d asked, reaching up with the joint in my right hand.

“Yeah, why not,” she replied and sat near me, cross-legged. I made a point of not looking anywhere else, other than her beautiful brown eyes.

Then I passed her the joint and, as she inhaled I took Beverly’s left hand and kissed it gently on the back, with my eyes locked on hers.

And, she continued to sit and smoke awhile, as our eyes held contact and my hand held hers.

After a few minutes, she placed the joint in the ashtray before me and the moment flowed, as surely as if it were foretold.

We embraced, kissing with abandon, hands roaming.

As I eased her tee-shirt upward, I quickly learned how her body had changed: very little. She still had the most slender androgynous body of almost any woman I’d known, with perky breasts and stub-like nipples, with a few hairs around the aureole.

I brought both her bud-like breasts into view, each topped with a highly erect, long nipple: and I latched onto one with eager lips, using my free hand to play with the other.

I suckled, nibbled and nipped at the sensitive flesh, as my right hand moved between her thigh's to learn that she was sans panties and shorn, to a light down.

She had eased backward and I followed, arms round her waist, my mouth adhered to her flesh.

Then moving from those perky delights, I followed a trail of light hairs with kisses and tongue, to her navel. Happily, I swirled my tongue into the small well, tasting her. Yet wanting more, I continued downward.

I placed my hands on her thighs and pushed them apart gently, before immersing myself in her essence.

"You're really warm here Bev," I told her, as I rubbed up almost hairless folds, studying closely.

I ran the tip of the middle forefinger on my left hand along the outside of the folds, getting some beads of moisture on it. I brought it up to my face and looked at it carefully for a moment before licking it off.

After inhaling a bit, I pressed my lips onto Beverly’s warm flesh, running my hands over her long legs.

I kissed her vulva and the labia, hanging lower. Then drawing my tongue upwards to part her folds, I began lapping at her clitoral hood, bringing her bud out of hiding, to excite her further

Beverly instinctively put her hands on my head, stoking my fine fair hair as she started writhing under my attention.
Her gasps became louder, as I dug in more and more with my tongue and lips.

I sucked and licked at Beverly, my friend and lover; trying to devour her.

She spread her legs even father apart, moving her butt up and down, responding to my probing tongue, her hips bucking beneath me.

Beverly was squirming with pleasure beneath me, as her head shook from side to side. Abruptly she sat up, pushing me to my knees.

“Feels… so tender…” she murmured, “Hold me.”

She pulled me toward her, on top of her body. My hard self rubbed against the heat of her sex and we kissed.

Boy, our bodies felt great against each other. And, I had no inhibitions about our surroundings, or who was upstairs.

As we dry humped, I teased at her right nipple through the tee-shirt, as I began to suckle on her right earlobe.

She sighed with pleasure, and then groaned, as the pad of my right-hand middle finger thrummed at her somewhat hypersensitive clitoris.

Breathing hard, a wild look in her eyes, she wrapped her arms around my neck, just a little bit too tight, then hissed in my ear: “I need to fuck, now.”

I didn’t need to be told twice. No way.

I moaned against her ear, then sighed, “Yes.”

She was horny: and, I didn’t want to lose this opportunity, not now.

Hands behind my neck, Beverly drew me down to her, as she spread her legs a little further. In response, I clumsily undid my belt and shucked my jeans and pants down to my thighs hurriedly.

Oh-boy, I so wanted her.

I didn’t need lube; she was wet from the tonguing.

So I eased back and raising her legs, leant forward once more, and placed the head of my shaft at the entrance to her inviting sex.

“C’mon,” she hissed, eyes wide with lust.

I inched forward slowly; as I guided myself into her moist warmth, all-in-one; then lay against her.

She moaned some more and I began moving in and out of her, feeling her inner muscles tighten against me: her eyes closed, the lids fluttering.

She ground herself against me, her pubic-bone hard against mine, biting her lower lip.

I began thrusting from my hips, in short, jerking motions. And with wide-eyes, Beverly wrapped her ankles around my calves, trying to pull me in further.

I began to pound her harder, my pubic bone hard on hers; as I saw her snake her hand between us, to play with her clit.

“Uuh, uuh, uuh,” she moaned with each thrust as I fucked her, and now those muscles were working overtime around my hard flesh, milking it with her fuckhole.

Suddenly she went still, then pushed me away and with wide-eyes told me, “I want you doggy-style.”

Beverly was definitely in charge.

“Mmmmm..” was my only answer, as she got on her hands and knees. She wanted me, right then, as much as I wanted her: I was sure of that.

I grasped her hips, easing into her liquid honey warmth, with a sigh of pleasure.

As I began to slide back and forth, I ran my left hand down her lithe body, running it down the pronounced ridges of her spine, to her pert, taut buttocks.

The way her lithe body moved against me awakened something deep in my gut, something instinctual, something primal. I felt sexual; like an animal possessed as I was, with my desire to form union with my lover.

I wrapped both arms around Beverly’s belly and drove with my hips. I was taking her with me, planting my feet; and her body undulated, to meet my thrusts.

Looking back, her eyes fluttering, she looked as if she were in another world, a world of pure pleasure.
Her eyes met mine, and I bent from my waist, bending over her long back, kissing her roughly and sliding my hands over the sides of her body, to find her erect nipples, waiting for attention.

So I took each, twixt thumb and fore-finger and pulled, as I thrust forward and her eyes closed, as she sighed.

I began pumping faster and faster and Beverly threw her head back, and moaned.

We were at it a long time, until I lay down against her sweat-sheened body and sucked on the nape of her long neck as my orgasm gathered itself, like a slow-building storm.

“Not in me,” she pleaded.

So, I drew from her slowly, to shoot my seed over her lower back.

Then I leant down, on her back, my face close to hers, as I slowly softened.

We got ourselves disentangled and straightened our clothing quickly.
Then, kissing me briefly on the cheek, Beverly left me, to finish the joint and the last of my wine.

And as I sat there, cross-legged as before, I couldn’t help but smile, at the turn of events. Finally, the joint was just a roach in the ashtray and the wine was gone.

“Well that was a surprise,” I thought, for the umpteenth time, as I turned the lights off, before I retired to bed myself.

COMMENTS

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Crowscat
03:09 Sep 04 2019

definitely a lovely ending for the both involved! whoa Angelus! Bravo! ( you really need to share more erotica, this was pretty amazing)

it was SO nice to read you again my dear friend!!!
*giant huggs*

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