Prologue: Two months ago, when “writersplace.net”, our authors web site began looking for the three most popular, most widely followed commercially unpublished poets, Barbara’s name came up and the three were invited to a poetry competition in Chicago.
Poetry with permission of Elizabeth J. Russo
A Three Day Lifetime:
Friday, June 18, 2009
First Night : Love and Conversation
This day’s rain no longer falling, the night had turned beautiful.
Hand in hand, walking, slowly walking, Barbara and I walked among the thousands of people strolling along Michigan Avenue stopping here and there to look at a showroom window, and going into stores every now and then to look, I’m sure, for some item that one might purchase for the other that would become a lifelong keepsake of this day, and this lifetime that we must live in three days. Anything of a romantic nature that I might purchase for Barbara would be questioned by her husband, Hank.
Passing a jewelry store, stopping to look at the window display, “Let’s go in here.”
“There’s something I want you to have.”
“You can’t buy me anything that I’ll be able to wear.”
“I know,” I said. “Does Hank ever look into your Jewelry box, does he check to see what you have in there?”
“No, of course not... I don't think so.”
“Okay, then, I see something I want you to have to remember me.”
“Mitchie, you really think that I’ll ever forget you?”
“No, I don’t think you’ll ever forget me, at least I hope not, not anymore then I’ll ever forget you, but there’s something I want you to have that you can hold, that you can actually touch to remember right now.”
On a dark velvet display were an number of small, gold filigreed, charms that could be used as a pin, hang from a chain or attach to a charm bracelet. One of the charms was a one inch square calendar month with a minute seed pearl placed onto a specific day.
Going into the store, I bought: “2009” “JUNE” with the pearl on “18”, although with no inscription on the backside of the charm.
Walking on, in deep thought, “I know!” Barbara suddenly said, “I know what I want you to have, and it’ll remind you of me every day for the rest of your life!”
“You don’t think that I’ll remember you every day of my life?”
“Come on!” Pulling me along, we entered into one of the many specialty stores that can be found on either side of Michigan Avenue.
Asking, “Men’s Department?” we were directed to the third floor, to a counter display.
“Know what I love?”
“Barbie, I’d love to know what you love.”
One light in the far corner of the room on, in bed again, lying closely together, she, on her back with the light blanket to below her chest. He, his hand cupping his head, on his left side with the blanket to his hip, looking at her face, just looking at her face, at – lying on her back, the weight causing her breasts to flatten and lay to the sides of her chest – Mitchell’s sensibilities once again engulfed by the improbability of here and of now and by the absolute improbability of lying alongside of the dream that came to life, that lay beside him...
“Men’s necks,” Barbara said.” There’s something about a man’s neck that completely turns me on. When I look at a man’s neck...” giggling, “not every man’s neck, mind you, but when I look at a man’s neck and imagine kissing it, licking it, nibbling on it, it turns me on.”
“And my neck?” I asked. “Does my neck turn you on.”
“Oh, yeah! Your neck in particular absolutely turns me on.”
“Okay.” Leaning over her face, feeling her tongue touch my neck, feeling little kisses circling my Adams apple. “No hickeys,” I warned.
“Course not, you think I’m sixteen!” she said good naturedly. Feeling a nip at my neck, “Tough tittie,” she said, “tell her it’s a mosquito bite. And me,” she said softly, “I love the feel of a man’s mouth on my neck and throat, gently kissing my skin, running his tongue all around it.”
Giving me a hint, “I can do that,” I said, kissing her neck, making small circles with the tip of my tongue. But, truly, not being much of a “neck and throat man” but a whole lot of a “breast man,” in a very short time my tongue was tracing it way down her chest, onto a nipple where, circling it, drawing on it, the erectile flesh responded.
Enjoying the sensations, “Something else you ought to know about me.”
“Tummies,” she said.
“Tummies?” I questioned.
“Yeah, tummies... and other stuff.”
“I doesn’t bother me if we do, honey, but, uh , we going to get kinky here?” I asked.
“No!” Laughing, “Uh, maybe a little, but in case you haven’t noticed, I love to cuddle and kissing is extremely sensual to me and the touch of your fingertips against my bare skin...” giggling again, “especially on my tummy, that’s just soooo erotic to me, to slip your fingers up beneath my shirt and graze 'em over my flesh.”
Catching this hint also, my fingertips playing over her tummy, “You’re not wearing a shirt,” I interjected,. “or for that matter, anything.”
“Yeah, I know, but I love being held and...” her hand circling my dick, “ I love to hold you, and...” telling me something that I was planning on finding out for myself within a very few minutes... “oral sex is, ummm, yes, very good, for both and I love the feel of you deep inside me where it is very warm and very tight. Ummm...is it getting warm in here or what?”
“Or what,” I said as...
Their mouths together, barely touching, he felt the touch of her tongue on his lips and, his lips parting, the tip of his tongue caressed hers... When he made a motion to move, the light drawing pressure of her lips said, no, don’t move, don’t go yet! Mitchell’s mouth stayed against Barbara’s mouth... the kiss lengthened...
As the kiss lengthened, his hand, still on Barbara’s tummy – and not being much of a “tummy” man also – his hand moved lower, onto the silky fine floss of her... stopping the progression of his hand long enough to throw the blanket back.
Her eyes closed, her hand encircling his, once again fully resurrected penis, widening her thighs as...
Two fingers rubbing along the moist fissure, parting the overlapping lips of her vagina, feeling the heat, feeling the wetness... “Slide down, baby.” Urging her lower onto the bed, changing positions, his head to her thighs...
Knowing where he was going. Wanting him to do what she knew he was about to do. Wanting him to – wanting him to do that which her husband would never do – moving downward on the mattress, making room for Mitchell to lay lengthwise alongside of her. Opening her thighs...
Changing positions, looking at the lightly covered triangle of fine, dark brown hair, parting the fleshy, overlapping lips, caressing the length of her vagina, sensing the tickle within his urethra...
Looking at, Oh, my God! seeing Barbara’s dark hued vulva, seeing her moisture flecked vagina, the moist, slight sea tang scent heightening the near unbearable eroticism, moving his head, his face where he’d dreamt his face to be, his tongue, where he’d dreamt his tongue to be, as though starving for it, indeed, starving for it...
Watching as a string of glistening semen made it’s way through Mitchell’s urethra. His thick penis now inches from her mouth, compelled to, Oh, my God! wanting to, wiping the stream of semen first, then, taking it, taking as much of the length of it...
His hips moving gently to meet the warmth of her mouth...
Her pelvis moving gently to meet the erotic thrusting of his tongue...
The room quiet but for harsh breathing and the barely heard moans of each...
Both sensing a heretofore unknown, surrealistic sense of intense passion...
The mouth-filling taste of the flesh of his penis...
Breath coming harder, faster...
“Honey,” weakly attempting to move out, “I’m going to...”
Knowing what was seconds from happening. Needing him!
Her nails digging into his buttocks, holding him...
Breath coming harder, faster...
Feeling the strong contractions within her mouth, far from repulsed...
Her thighs widening further, her pelvis pushing upward, upward...
Her moaning louder now...
Tasting the flood of fluid of the woman he loved...
All lights off now, laying closely together, facing each other, held closely by her hand on his hip, and his arm laid along her outter thigh.
Faces but inches apart, feeling the light breath of the other.
Actually silent, neither speaking but each hearing the thoughts of the other.
And the thought each heard: I love you!
Now and then, one would move minutely to the other and gently, so gently place a soft kiss onto the lips of the other.
Neither had to speak because the thought of one was the thought of the other: I love you.
Whispered softly, so softly, “Mitchie, honey, turn around.”
“Yeah, baby, I want to spoon.”
Knowing what she meant, “You want to be spoon one or spoon two?”
“Spoon two,” she answered seriously.
Turning, arcing my hips...
Immediately feeling the warmth of her conforming body.
Laying closely to me...
Feeling the close warmth of her conforming body...
“I crawled into an untidy bed,”
Hearing her words...
“curled my bare body to his
and lay still”
Feeling Barbara's warm breath on my back...
“until his breath was
at my back,
a soft tongue cooling
the sunburned skin
on my neck,”
Her breath soft upon the back of my neck. Her words softer.
“my round bottom pushing
closer and closer into the curve
of his body.”
Her arm across my hip, feeling her moving closer, warmer into me.
“Spread fingers walked
the length of me,
chilled skin rising in ovation.”
My hand now holding her hand, my eyes closed to the soft words...
“His warm hand skimmed
over the curve of my hip
to a waiting well–his fingers
tickled the surface and dipped
long into the warm waters
and he spoke close to my ear
words he had never spoken,
said only between lovers,
and turned my body to his.”
Though written before she knew me, the words now were for me, only me. Turning, my face but inches from her face, feeling Barbara's soft, warm breath.
“Shhh, not a word,” he said,
and took a cool sip
the depths of the well
all thirst was quenched.”
My face now against her face, h
er cheek now touching my cheek
ur tears mixed.
©May 22, 2010 / Mark M Lichterman