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“Want anything else, Barb?”

“Yeah!”

“Desert? Coffee?”

“No.”

“No?”

“You, Mitchie! What I want, Mitchie, is you.”

Reaching into my pocket, “Honey,” removing a small pill bottle. “You’ve got me.”

“What’s that?”

Knowing it takes an hour on an empty stomach and longer after eating. “Insurance.” Popping the lid, shaking a little blue pill out, I washed it down with water.

Cyber Affair 8

Day One - 6: Friday, June 18, 2009

 First Night : Love and Conversation                            

The rain of earlier 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 every now and then we would look through showroom windows and occasionally go into the store to look, I’m sure, for some item that we 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.”

Holding back, “Mitchie, why?”

Moving forward, “There’s something I want you to have.”

Catching my elbow, “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... At least 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 high quality 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 once 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...

“Necks.”

“Huh?”

“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.”

“Uh-oh!”

“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 penis, “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 the tip of her tongue... 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.

To be continued

©February 25, 2012 / Mark M. Lichterman