calypso

Okay, boys and girls. I haven't written (recreationally) in a while, so here's some crap I just tossed together.


"A Sneaking Suspicion"

He greets me at the door just as he always does: with a sweeping, dramatic kiss and a strong embrace.

He eats a burrito. Talks on the phone briefly.

His eyes were glued to the T.V., and mine to him. My hair a mess, strands hanging in front of my face, I stared at him with an enamoured intensity.

He'd turn his head to look at me, and I'd just smile. I've always had difficulties with maintaining eye contact, but this was wonderful. I raised his hands to my face and kissed each finger one-by-one. It feels wrong for my lips to be anywhere else but on his skin.

We lay in his bed, having moved from the living room. Cartoons were in the background. I mentioned a message board topic that posed the question, "If women recieve flowers and the like as a romantic gesture, what does one give a man?" The resounding answer seemed to be fellatio.

He told me, sure. A blowjob, dinner, and a beer. Ha.

Before long his hands were searching my body, our lips meeting over and over again. I tend to scratch my fingernails down his back, and his body always moves in approval.

I'm breathless now, and nearly naked. He has shed his clothes, as well. Our bodies pressed against one another, yet we never seem close enough.

Words of adoration fill my ears. "You're so hot," he tells me. "God, you're so beautiful." And I believe him. For once, I fuckin' believe it.

I climb on top of him.

"Prepare yourself," I say. "I'm about to get really romantic."

He remembers the conversation.

When all is said and done, I'm rinsing my mouth out in his bathroom in naught but my thong. I return to him, his arms, his kisses. Holy shit, this feels so right. We feel like a couple. Like two people who couldn't care if the whole world outside was reduced to rubble, so long as they were together.

We talk and talk, and he begins to understand me.

I had joked about wanting to wait until marriage to have sex, and he told me, seriously, that he was totally okay with that. Wow.

We listen to music and sit down at the computer to write a resume for him. I sit directly behind him, with my arms wrapped around his waist. I help him with the resume, making suggestions and kissing him at the same time.

Soon, it is time to leave. I don't want to. I feel...right with him. Like I can relax. Like I can say whatever the fuck I want without fear of ridicule.

We exchange a long, warm kiss, and I leave. It pains me so to do it, but it's gotta happen...for now.

I feel an overwhelming tenderness for him. Something in my heart, in the pit of my stomach, stirs at the sound of his voice. I find a feeling of peace with my fingers running through his hair, kissing his forehead, and with each kiss I'm trying to express to him just how deep my feelings for him run. The problem is, I haven't got a clue myself. I have a sneaking suspicion, but it's too god-damned soon and I have to be sure.

Too bad there's no diagram or drawn timeline for these kinds of things. Some kind of set standard as to when the right time to express certain feelings is.

I'll figure it out.

Truth be told, if he said he loved me, I'd say it right back without hesitation.



Enough of the bullshit, let's get to the pictures.

Here's my inspiration:


and me:



My Marilyn-inspired pose:


Me being a jackass, as I tend to be:


And one of my favorites:


There are more pictures in my "Stuff from
cosfrog" folder, including a couple with boobies!!!

I'm listening to the Cars. I suggest you do the same.