Closer (Part VII)

He moved his other hand to her waist and rubbed the slight exposure of skin beneath her shirt. Her heart skipped about three beats. She looked up at the ceiling again and closed her eyes. She could feel his breath on her neck, warm, full of lust and likeness. He caressed her with his lips beneath her cheekbones and down to her shoulder, nibbling softly at her flesh, but not leaving any marks. He was soft, tender with his touch. She put both hands between his legs to show her gratitude. His whole body shook once, a sure sign of response. So good. His breath became more and moister as her hands moved closer. Suddenly his hands flew to hers and stopped her from reaching the top. She snapped.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered. His breathing was heavy. The colorful blurs became people again and the music slowly faded back into recognition.
“Not here,” he said slowly. Puzzling.
“But, I want to.” It was the alcohol, and it was her.
“Not here…” he said again. She began to stand up slowly and extended a hand to him.
“Come.” They walked through the crowds, nobody noticed as they slithered through the crowd reaching a door. Open, unlocked. She stepped through and pulled him inside behind her. Nobody, empty. She closed the door and it clicked shut, then she locked it. No interruptions. Perfect. The room was dark, there was one chair and he sat, legs open and breathing low and steady. He looked up at her with those eyes, she could see her reflection in them, vivid and bright.
“Come,” he said. She stepped towards him.
“Closer.”
“Closer?”
“Yes.” She came as close as she could until their noses touched. He reached both arms around her body and pulled her down to him. “That’s close.” He leaned in and kissed her neck up her cheek bone and onto her cheeks stroking that exposed skin. She put both hands on his face and felt herself through him, each bristle that should be shaved, each smooth patch of skin she longed to have. He leaned up, and she leaned down. Their lips met briefly for a second or two. She then lashed out her tongue and pulled him inside. She felt every part of that mouth, the lips, the tongue, the teeth, and the roof…all with her own. His hands were warm on her back as they slid up the shirt feeling her backbone and down again. Explosive. She moaned softly to him and he pressed harder. A bite, a nibble, her and there on each lips; it did not hurt. He was soft and tender with his touch. So good.

Closer (Part VI)

“So what’s new with you?” asked The Friend rocking back and forth to the music in his chair.
“Not much, on this end,” she replied offhandedly staring at the ceiling as she spoke. The conversation continued slowly and dispersedly. She and The Friend laughed and conversed at intervals between the music and people coming between them getting more drinks. Between the tidbits of conversation she would caress his arm. Let him know she was there, just let him know. He took one hand and rubbed her other arm, just to let her know. She leaned until she could place her head in the crook between his head and his shoulder. He forgot to shave again. The bristly hairs tickled her cheeks as she rubbed them against his. He turned his head and kissed her forehead slowly, to let it sink in, to make it last. The Friend got up and left them while more people came in mixing and pouring more drinks getting rowdier and rowdier. She kept her eyes glued to the ceiling until he turned her head to look her in the eye. His dark eyes were shivering with emotion. Shivering. Warm. Excited.
“Having fun?” he asked. She nodded.
“I’m here with you, how could it not be fun?” She didn’t know if he was smiling or not because she was still looking into those eyes.
“Same here,” he replied almost in a whisper. That voice. Deep. The voice she loved hearing, it was that voice. Their expressions became more serious and she moved her hands closer and closer towards their bodies with his fingers still intertwined in hers. Closer. His body gave a slight twinge of excitement, in more places than one. She lifted their hands and turned them so they were palm to palm, embracing. Was someone turning down the music? The people moving around and the sloshing drinks became blurs of unintelligible colors. All she saw was him; all she wanted, all she needed.

Closer (Part V)

“So, are you guys finally going out yet, or you’re still working on that?” asked a friend. They both smiled and replied, “Working on it.” He gave her hand a squeeze and she responded by running a finger up and down his inner arm. Scandalous. They excused themselves and walked towards the drinks and sat in the plastic chairs all around the tables. She looked him over in his white tee and blue button-up, baggy faded jeans and white shoes. He wore the same thing almost every time they went out together. She did too, but it was beside the point. He looked off into the crowd of people and she kept staring. She hoped she wasn’t drooling. She looked over at the drinks on the table and poured a large glass of Coca-Cola for both of them.
“Thanks,” he said off-handedly and took a large sip. “Ah, a non-alcoholic drink. I didn’t think you could serve something of the sort,” he teased smiling at her again. She smacked him lightly on his knee and reached for another cigarette.
“So, how are you doing?” she asked placing her right hand on his knee. She was left handed, so she smoked with the other hand. He sat for a moment then leaned back in his chair before replying, “Pretty tipsy, how about you?” She nodded and giggled before taking another long drag. She looked up as she was blowing out the smoke to see a friend of hers reaching over to get a drink.
“Could I take a seat with you guys?” he asked. She nodded slowly and stood up and offered her chair. She looked over at him and tapped his hand which was resting on his knee. He looked up and moved it so she could sit. This was normal, and everyone was used to this. He put his hands on her knees and ran them up and down her legs and brought them back to her knees again where they rested. A single shiver ran up and down her spine.
“Bangin’ party, huh guys?” asked The Friend. She nodded.
“Yeah, totally…I’m so tipsy though, how are you doing?” she asked leaning back into his body.
“Whoo man, right about where you are with that,” replied The Friend.
“Amen!” she whooped leaning forward again to give The Friend a high-five. She fell back a little too quickly causing him to jerk in pain. She turned with an apologetic face. “I’m SO sorry,” she said giggling and wobbling her cigarette in unsteady fingers. He smiled and stroked her arm reassuringly and she snuggled deeper into him. He was so warm, so comfortable. Perfect. Inadvertently, she placed a hand on his and he proceeded to pull her fingers into his, interlocking them on his knee. Even better.

Closer (Part IV)

She looked to the porcelain god and proceeded to pray, head first. Nothing came but she waited. It would come, better now rather than later, she thought. She pulled her hair back in her hands and lay her head on the side of the seat. Ew, how many asses had touched that thing? Fuck, doesn’t matter now, just puke, girl. Come on! Feeling dizzy, she stuck a finger down her throat to prompt the juices in her stomach to churn harder than they already were. Next time, she was eating a full meal before drinking something. One prayer composed of a torrent of alcohol and soda followed by a second with chunks of the crackers she had hastily eaten before walking out the door earlier in the evening. Definitely a full meal next time.
Feeling a little less light headed she stood up and splashed water on her face from the sink. Much better. She dried herself with a towel and took a deep breath before walking back into the jungle of drunks. Just open the door and walk back out as if you just took a piss, she told herself, you weren’t making any violent noises. She turned the doorknob and took two steps, right into him.
“Are you okay?” she asked. He nodded.
“I came looking for you,” he replied.
“I’m fine,” she retorted.
“Good, that is all that matters then.” Then, without thinking, she snaked her arm around his and slid her hand down to his fingers and laced them in. Not stopping to think he accepted and led her back into the crowd pushing through as he went over towards another group of people. Smiles and greetings went around (for probably the third time with those same people that evening) and conversation continued. She felt a light sensation on her thumb and she peered down to see what it was. He was stroking it with his thumb, reassuring and calm. She felt even better and pushed herself closer to him. Closer. Just closer.

Closer (Part III)

“Uh…” she said. Their stare never broke even when he took her glass.
“You’ve had enough,” he said wrenching it from her. She took a long drag and blew the smoke in his face.
“I’m fine, it’s you that has had too much.” He retracted slightly to avoid the blast and burning his eyes and nose.
“I told you that you never listen to me.”
“Fuck you.”
“No thanks.” He grinned impishly. Oh, he thought he was so funny. She shoved him lightly, sneered at him jokingly and turned to find other people leaving him behind her to do the same. She sauntered over to another group of people and stood quietly listening to the conversation only speaking when being spoken to. She laughed and cracked jokes where she could; it was what she did best. Her breathing was getting shorter as she realized just how much she was smoking and drinking. They had barely been here two hours and she already felt a little sick. For some reason, this was not the happy kind of conversational drinking she normally engaged in. she swaggered a bit then regained footing before she fell over completely. She was not afraid to fall though, he would be behind her; he always was. He would hold her hand and take care of her, he always did. She appreciated that. Where was he now? Impossible to find him in the throng of drunkards. She looked past the clear glasses of gin and tonic and the colored ones of the Cuba libres. She needed the bathroom, now. She politely excused herself from the group and made her way towards the restrooms. It seemed as if the doors were getting further and further away as she tried to get closer. Closer. She reached out for the handle as she almost fell through the door. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching and pushed into the bathroom without even bothering to knock. Thank god, nobody was in there. She stopped before the toilet and turned to look at herself in the mirror.
Her eyes were red from lack of sleep, booze and the cigarette smoke that stung her eyes. Her favorite black shirt was (surprisingly) clean of stains of any sort and her beige pants were clinging to her waist. She had been losing weight recently from her irregular eating habits. Not that she was anorexic or bulimic, she just could not find much time to eat; there was almost never any food in his house. She touched her cheeks to feel the warmth radiating from it, nervous sweat was forming in her freshly-shaven armpits and she could feel her head spinning with the lights. Damn, he was right…way too much to drink.

Closer (Part II)

“Cigarette?” Oh, real smooth. Her vision glazed for a moment and then she smiled back. Grace under pressure, never let them see you sweat.
“Which kind, how many do you have?” he asked. He always made fun of her for carrying at least three different boxes with her. She liked variety, in almost everything she craved: cigarettes, drinks, food, men…
“I have your favorites,” she said dropping her nearly extinguished one to the floor and handing him her drink. She dug into her pockets and felt the box out she had saved for him: a cream white one with the classic red triangles and huge Malboro™ lettering across the front. She held her hand out for her drink and put the box in his hand. He smiled and shook his head.
“You know me too well,” he chuckled.
“I know.” She opened a box of her favorite menthols and lit her eighth cigarette of the hour.
“You smoke way too much you know,” he said looking down at her. What about the others he was conversing with? Did they disappear, were they watching? She was too tipsy to tell.
“You tell me that every day.”
“You never listen.”
“Sometimes.” A long silent stare ensued. His eyes, she had never noticed them before; dark, but not sinister or unfriendly, neither mysterious nor shady…just dark. From what they knew, he was shy and quiet, never really got out much except with certain people. She was one of them, and they all knew it. She knew him every day, even when he was quiet, the real him, what he was really like. Hard to imagine how they even got along, they were almost complete opposites in public. People were still confused even then how they were friends, or more than that, from what they had seen or heard. Their private life was pretty private, not many people knew what went on between them when they were alone, and it was never anything they couldn’t tell anyone, they just did not. Wrestling in his house, drinking at hers, playing the piano, watching strange movies, eating, sleeping, smoking, talking, singing and just being best friends in general. That was what they were, it is what he called her, it was what she called him. It was what they called each other. It was perfect that way it seemed. Nobody seemed to really know what they were about, and it is usually better that way isn’t it?

Time and Time Again-Rurouni Kenshin

Rurouni Kenshin-Time and Time Again by Chronic Future.

A really good song and great graphics if you're a fan of the anime ^^

Closer (Part I)

She sat and she stared. Staring is normally considered rude, but only if you’re drooling at the same time. If you’re panting, then you probably need to get help or jerk off someplace private.
He was happily chatting away with the other invitees. The smell of booze and cigarette smoke was everywhere; it curled up into her nose as she blew out a long drag she had taken from her own cancer stick. She watched as the smoke danced its way above her head diffuse seamlessly into the air around her. It was difficult to say whether or not she was enjoying herself. She swirled her drink around several times and never once lifted her gaze. She lifted it to her lips as she watched him laugh with the others. Blink. It was impossible to tell whether or not he was really drunk. She knew though, she knew him too well. She laughed into the Screwdriver and the ice wobbled at her lips, cold, she thought. She walked over to him slowly, pushing through the rest of the people at the party. Some were drunk and spilled on themselves and laughed it off with things like “Ha, I better wash this before I get home” or “I hope this blue shit doesn’t stain my white shirt” followed by guffaws of laughter of the others. The rest moved as she placed her hand on them to help make her path.
What was she going to say? It would have to be something interesting to get her into the conversation. Closer. Maybe offering to refill his now empty glass, or possibly just let him know she was still here. They went everywhere together, neither went home without the other. Maybe she would not stop at all and just keep on walking towards the bathrooms behind him. Heck, she might just talk to the guy behind him to make it seem like she was not focusing on him. Uh-oh. She was right in front of him, something quick; he looked at her and smiled in that smile she knew too well. Something, anything, everyone else was staring at her as she was just looking at him. Quick…

Part III (#2)

[I try to look past my beer belly (OMIGOSH, when did I get that!?!) and down at my feet.....Someone wanted to say Hello to me first....]

...What in the fuck is that?? Well, obviously I know WHAT it is...I saw them all the time on the other side of the gender spectrum...wait...did that sound slutty?
I look at the tent that's been made in my boxers. Boxers, yes...and they had Homer Simpson on them, go figure. I try to use those ancient female mental measuring tools. They do exist...how do you think we know when to go after a guy? Or is it they? Man, I'm confusing myself here!!
It's pretty decent. Not sticking out and jamming into the countertop, but not hiding and trying to cran itself out just to be seen. I would cry if I hadn't been well endowed by the 'gender swapping fairy'. that is the conclusion I've come to...somewhere out there is a gender swapping fairy that decides to slap on a dick and remove the tits or give you a pussy and expand your chest a little bit...just for laughs. I hope this is a freakin' Seinfeld comedy for you, fairy. I'm not enjoying it at all...
Ow!
I look down and 'it' (it doesnt have a name...let's call it Leo! not referring to anyone I already know, it just sounds cool!)...okay so Leo is goin back into hiding...ow...okay, so this is what blue balls feels like. I must have been having a dream about some really hot blonde girl...maybe we were making out and...uh oh, here he comes again...better hold off on the pornographic thoughts. They do more damage on this end than when I was a girl. So now, Im thinking its time to get in the shower and relax a bit. I begin stripping my clothes off and leaving them in a pile on the floor. Somehow, I have this feeling that it's okay to leave them there and someone will come pick them up, and perhaps even do the laundry for me. No, no..okay then nevermind...wait, what is this...I'm feeling..........lazy. Wow, it's like my brain cant even comprehend the idea of picking my clothes up off the bacteria-infested floor and placing them where they belong in the dirty clothes hamper. Ouch, my brain. This hurts, only women think like that. Oops...DAMN IT. I did it again.
I turn on the shower so that the steam rises enough to make sure it's warm and not scalding hot. I step behind the sliding glass doors and let the waterfall pour down over my (hairy) back and chest. Iccch, all this hair...its so weird and thick and curly...and I used to think that was sexy on a guy. Damn, it feels weird on this end. Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, Fairy.
Soap up, lather everything, even between the buttcheeks and the balls. WOAH that's a weird feeling. A ballsack. I don't have much to say about a ballsack, except for the fact that now it's attatched to my body and feels even weirder than before. It was always weird...just now its actually ATTATCHED to me.
...I hope the fairy changes channels soon, for as I'm standing here admiring my new appendages, I have exactly 20 minutes before I'm late for work. Did I mention I suddenly have no desire whatsoever to cook my breakfast? I also just remembered that I drive a pink car and that I work as a dress designer...GOD HELP ME!

-Snoopy

next post soon!

Short break

Hey folks, sorry for the delay.
The story will continue once I finish with exams at school.
Im studying very hard and its killing the creative vibe
Dont want to post anything silly that wouldnt be good.
Take care, ya'll, peace!

-Snoopy