PIT2/18: Night, 6/18/09

Points In Time

    (X) Rated

Chicago, Illinois

No longer three thousand miles between us, no longer ‘any’ distance between us…

Just the opposite.

6: 33 PM

The shower off now, standing within the tub pulling the towel from side to side across my back, I watched as Barbara stood nude before the mirror applying eye liner.

Possibly because we only have seventy-two hours together, and because we knew that more than likely these seventy-two hours would be all we would ever have, all pretense of modesty off. Possibly also thinking ourselves as newlyweds, after our first loving fuck, in a relaxed kind of hummus mood.

Still wet, Barbara’s dark hair lay loosely to the middle of her neck. Her deep waist accentuating her ample buttocks, Barbara’s thighs – which didn’t bother me because I imagined those thighs held tightly to either side of my face – Barbra’s thighs were on the pudgy side, but her calves and ankles shapely.

Looking at Barbara from behind, loving what I saw, unable to resist, “Hey, honey, tell me to kiss your ass!”

“Glancing over her shoulder, “Hey, Mitchie, kiss my ass!”

Which I did, booth cheeks, then because I just wanted to, I kissed them again.

7:28 PM

Asking ‘desk’ where ‘my wife’ and myself could get a good steak...

“ ‘Ruth’s Chris’,” I told the cab driver.

7;42 PM

“What’s a ‘California’ drink?”

“A ‘California drink’? Oh, I suppose that would have to be a ‘Margarita’.”

Turning back to the waiter,“A Margarita, please.”

“Blended...” he asked “...with salt?”

Looking questioningly at me, I nodded ‘yes’.

“Yes, please.”

“ ‘Beef Eater martini’, dry, please.”

Savoring here and now, not wishing to speak, quiet for a number of seconds…

“Feels kind of surrealistic, doesn’t it?”

Almost startled at the sound of Barbara’s voice. Taking a

deep breath. “Yes! My God, ‘yes’!”

“This, now...” she said “...is so unbelievable I feel I’m living a dream.”

The waiter returned.

Lost in this dream. The dream of ‘actually’ being here, of ‘actually’ being together. Afraid if my eyes strayed from Barbara’s eyes I would awake and the dream would dissolve.

Quiet again…

“Your wife…” Barbara questioned “...how long you two divorced?”

“Nineteen-eighty-six to now?” Thinking a moment… ‘Twenty-three years’.”

Drawing icy Margarita thew a pink straw… “Umm, this is good!

You ever think of her?”

“ ‘Marsha’, no, I do my best not to.” Sipping my martini. “The last word I heard her was, ‘bye’, as she ran after a ‘Red-Cap’ at ‘LAX’.”

Taking a longer draw on the pink straw. “How long were you two married?”

Swirling the large pimento stuffed olive within the glass, “Thirty-one years.”

“That’s a long time. You ever hear from her?”

“Glad to say, no.”

The olive speared by a small, three pronged plastic spear, I held it to Barbara’s mouth offering the martini soaked olive, which she closed her teeth around and pulled off the small spear.

“Excuse me.”

Our eyes shifting upward.

“Would you care to order now?”

“ I know what I want..” Barbara said “...Porterhouse, medium-well. Mashed potatoes, spinach and, for the salad, uh, ‘Italian’.”

“Serf and turf, please, medium-rare ‘baked’ for me with all the stuff, spinach, too, and blue cheese dressing.”

Waiting until the waiter left, “We’re learning a lot about each other, aren’t we?”

Taking her hand. “Yeah… that we’ll never need again.”

“Mitchie...” bringing my hand to her mouth, she kissed it “...please…” she said, her eyes becoming misty “...let’s not think about that now.”

“I know, baby.” Sighing, taking a healthy drink of martini. “So tell me about yourself. Stuff I don’t know. “Your sister, how old is she?”

“Peggy’s forty-five.”

“The ‘Down’s Syndrome’ , how bad is it?”

“Oh, she’s able to do a lot of things herself: go to the bathroom, and shower and dress. She is able to read at about a fifth grade level, but spends most of her time watching TV. And I’m around for most else she needs.”

“You said your mom is ill.”

“Yeah, she’s eighty-two and has some major diabetic problems, like her eye-sight is really failing and she has a hard time walking.”

Pulling the pink straw from the wide topped Margarita glass and– her lips showing grains of salt, Barbara drank directly from the glass.

As for chuck? He’s a good man– works as a mechanic at our local Ford showroom and service area…” licking salt off her lips “...and earns a good living and puts up with Peggy and my mother, with no complaints… Of course Chuck does whatever he wants to do and that’s mainly work on old junkers he fixes, then sells.

I like where we live and the room I use as my office, and sometimes my bedroom has a large window over-looking the park across the street.”

Taking another swig of my drink, feeling the gin, “Tell me...” I asked “...so often, your poetry... so often I had the feeling that you were writing to me, only to me.”

Drinking, “You’re right, baby, I was…” licking salt from her lips “...a lot of what I wrote, I wrote just for you.”

“You did a good job then, honey, because I really felt it. Reading you... What you wrote, sometimes I actually imagined myself with you.”

Taking another sip of Margarita. “Mitchie, that’s what I want!. I want you to feel it...I want you to feel me as you read each line. I want you to feel my mouth.” Her eyes intent, staring into my eyes.“I want you to feel each kiss traveling down your body...” she said passionately “...I want you to hear your name being whispered between the kisses, I want your skin becoming wet from my tongue.” Stopping, blinking her eyes a number of times, taking another drink. “This is what I want when I write. I write for you as if it is happening at that very moment and, baby...” squeezing my hand “...I actually feel it myself, I actually feel my lips touching your bare skin, I actually hear myself whispering your name, tasting your skin and, ‘oh, God’, in my mind I’m actually…” lowering her voice to a whisper “ ...holding your cock and feel your excitement.” Stopping, forcing the passion and emotion down, her eyes fixed on my face, “That’s what I always try to put into whatever I write about us.”

Hesitating, speaking softly, closing her eyes…

“My lips render promises
in a path of kisses
from the Nirvana
of your neck
of your navel
with each breath
my tongue
breaking your silence
as you sigh
into the night.”

“I love you!” Bringing her hand to my lips, I kissed it, turning her hand palm up, kissing it again, “I love you!”

Placing her hand flat onto the side of my face, “I love you, too, Mitchie.”

9:07 PM

“That’s the best steak I’ve ever had!”

“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.

9:30 PM

The earlier rain no longer falling, the night

had become star and moon-lit beautiful.

Hand in hand, walking… Slowly walking, Barbara and I walked among the thousands of people strolling along Michigan Avenue.

10:34 PM

Knowing what was coming, quick individual showers and…

“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 – 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. 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.”

“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 naturally.

Feeling a nip on my neck.

“Tough tittie...” she said “...tell ‘em 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.”

“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.

“Something else you ought to know about me.”

“Uh-oh!”

“Tummies,” she said.

“Tummies?”

“Yeah, tummies... and other stuff.”

“ Don’t bother me if we do, honey, but, uh , we going to get kinky here?”

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.”

My fingertips playing over her tummy, and into pubic hair.

Her hand circling my cock.

“I love to hold you, and...”

Telling me something I was planning on finding out for myself.

“...oral sex is, ummm, yes, ‘very good’, and I’d love the feel of your tongue deep into my pussy while sucking my ‘clit’. Ummm...is it getting warm in here or what?”

“Or what,” I said as...

Their mouths together, 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, 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, his hand moved lower, onto the floss of her...

Stopping the progression of his hand long enough to throw the blanket back.

“Yeah, baby…” Barbara’s hands tight about his head forcing urging him downward “...eat me, baby!”

“Yeah, baby…” shifting his body lengthwise “...slide down, baby.”

Both moving nosing backward, making room enough to…

“Yeah, baby, g’me your cock!”

Mitchell’s head between Barbara’s thighs, parting the lips, his tongue finding and caressing…”

“Ummm, baby. You got it, baby!” Her thighs tightening about his head– exactly as he wanted as feeling the heat and moisture, his tongue…

Barbara’s hips gyrating…

“Ummm, baby!”

Mitchell’s hips pulsing in rhythm with the tight drawing and loosening of Barbara’s mouth.

Barbara’s movement becoming more pronounced as…

Vaginal moisture changing to flood Mitchell’s mouth.

Tightening her thighs, one hand holding his head tight onto her now sopping pussy as, her other hand cradling Mitchell’s testicles, Barbara’s sucking mouth tight about his cock…”

“Baby…” pulling his head from Barbara’s clamped thighs “...I’m going..”

“No, baby…” urging him back… widening her thighs “...fuck me!”

Moving quickly…

Barbara’s knees draped over Mitchell’s shoulders...

Able to hold off long enough to glide into Barbara…

Able to hold off long enough for ‘two’, ‘three, ‘four’ fast, hard fore and back jerks of his hips…

Both feeling it…

Both ‘coming’...

Causing a pleasant ‘buzzing’ within his rectum...

Mitchell ejaculated.

Moments passing...

...Lying side by side, breathing returning to normal.

“Mitchie…”

“Yeah, baby?”

Remembering how he’d described himself. “I ‘really’ love your thick cock.”

Remembering how she’d described herself. “And I “really’ love your hairy pussy.”

11:35 PM

Whispered softly, “Mitchie, honey, turn

around.”

“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 soft warmth of her

body conforming to my backside.

Quiet...

Quiet...

“Laying closely to me…”

Hearing her words…

“I crawled into an untidy bed,”

Barbara’s head alongside my head. Barbra’s mouth alongside my ear... Barbara’s words bathed in warm breath.

“curled my bare body to his

and lay still”

Feeling Barbara's soft breasts on my back...

“until his breath was

at my back,

a soft tongue cooling

on my neck,”

Barbara’s breath soft upon my cheek.

“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 holding Barbara’s 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

indescribable things

said only between lovers,

and turned my body to his.”

Though written before she knew me, the'

words now were for me. ‘Only for 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

then plunged

the depths of the well

until-

all thirst was quenched.”

My face now against her face, her cheek now

touching my cheek...

Barbara’s tears, our tears mixed.

6/19/09

2:14 AM

Sleep throughout the night was... actually

lovely.

We lay, somehow touching one-another throughout the night as though if not touching, the dream of being in bed together, the dream of sleeping together would vanish and Barbara would be in bed with her husband or her private room… and me, alone.

At times it might have been no more then her toes on my calf, or my hand on her shoulder, and at times she would cuddle against my backside, or me hers and yet, as though by the merest of touch we were reassuring each other that we were here, together, the touch was, at least for me, so subliminal that, although aware of being touched, and touching, I remained within a pleasant sphere of sensual slumber.

Writers Notation: The poetry found in this episode and the next was ‘not’ written by this writer, but...with her permission, by ‘Barbara’.

Next PIT 2/ 19: Day Two