SHORT STORIES

a wintery kiss

[Lots of the scenes don't actually happen in winter - it's a play on words]

Steamy scenes ahead, please read if you'd like.

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Captured in broad daylight, our kiss was spectacular. Our lips were moving at the proper tempo - in sync, his hands were shifting from my butt to my breasts, and I felt the spike of the grass on my back, piercing through the blanket, as we leaned back. My hands tugged on his hair, moving down back to his nape, legs wrapped around him. And it was as if the world was disappearing on its own and we were the only ones existing.

Only when I felt him pull away and retract from me was when it was all too real. I looked at him with furrowed brows, watching as he stretched his arms - sitting back down, rolling up his sleeves from his black and white striped shirt. He reached his hand out to me and I sat still.

He looked at me with this blank expression, his green eyes; empty, lacking all emotion. And the warmth I had previously felt before the kiss and during, faded swiftly. The scenery of the park rolled back in; a little girl, with green overalls, on a bicycle rolling down the path, her dad on the other end of the path waiting to catch her - anticipating a possible fall. I stared at that for a moment, before bringing my eyes back to my husband - whose eyes are now covered in his black sunglasses.

I looked down at my skirt, which had run up to my upper thigh, revealing the tip of my stocking. I felt the heat rising in my cheeks as I quickly covered my legs, the skirt reaching the middle of my shin.

I sometimes imagine my husband as a loving person. And of course, he could be one, and I convince myself that I've seen him as one - once. But now as time passes, I feel that it was just a dream I made up in my mind to fill my soulless loop life.

We were at a party. It was Nancy Hall's wedding service and he and I were invited to come over. It wasn't all that big of a wedding, which surprised me completely. She has all the wealth too but when I saw her dreamily stare into Michael's eyes - her orbs glistening into his own, a sheepish smile planted on her face as he caressed her cheekbone with his thumb - I was sure, they'd get married on a farm.

Although, this only lasted for a couple of months before she found out after 7 years of marriage, his infidelity. And now she's a mother of three, no longer waiting patiently for her cheating husband, but drinking like a teenager on a good night out.

Anyways, he and I weren't all that close yet, but we had shared a laugh at the diner that Tuesday morning. I remember wearing something tight fitted, it was bright pink, that accentuated every curve that I had, which had definitely given my bosom a great appearance to the public eye.

I remember his hands held my hips with a tantalizing grip, smoothing upwards to my breasts which he cupped with his strong hands, the pad of his thumb rubbing my nubs, that hardened quickly at his touch. I whimpered slightly, in an attempt to maintain my posture, I leaned back into him, feeling his length harden at this motion, eliciting a stifled groan, my arms were stilled to my side as we dragged each other to a different room.

My breaths were ragged - chest heaving up and down as he helped me with my dress. It fell to the floor and I was left in my stockings and my bra. His lips quirked up to see a particular spot empty without any undergarments. He reached out his hand and I gladly took it, he pulled me down to the bed, heat rushing through every part of my body. I look as he leans forward, hands on either side of my face - taking my lips into his gently. His tongue coaxed my tongue and I opened my mouth to gasp for air but he swallowed my mouth up, massaging my tongue with his.

"oh, Lord..." I mumbled into his mouth.

I faintly heard him unbuckling his belt, and vaguely saw his (pardon my French) penis. I tossed my head back, a groan falling out as his (penis) entered into my throbbing core. It felt so painful and gradually felt pain most of the time because all he was doing was pounding his (penis) into me. And when I signalled to stop - placing my hands on his arms, he shifted his hands above my head, bringing my arms along. I almost cried.

This hurt.

I guess I wanted him to have caressed my body gently. And instead of pounding him inside me, I would have liked him to gently place his manhood inside me, and if he had sensed my pain, he would go slower - at a pace I was calm with.

I'd look up into his eyes, feeling a flood of pleasure wash over me, and I would whisper a small yes to confirm that he could continue faster. Moving deeper and deeper, gradually increasing his speed, his hands caressing my head as we mate in a loving, passionate way. Our moans would increase in pitch and I would feel ultimate pleasure as if I had climbed the highest mountains and finally reached the top drinking the Godly water, feeling the uttermost satisfaction and happiness.

But he didn't.

And that memory faded into a cloud of black dust, wilting into a dark nightmare hidden in my head. I glance back at him once again and he's asleep. I watched the clouds fill the sky, the atmosphere chilling. And I peck a small kiss to his cheek and feel the world spin. Watching time move backwards, despite it actually moving forward. Watching days go by the same way all over again. If time is moving forward, why does it feel like I'm sinking in time? Staying in one place - watching the same events unravel day by day.

And every day, the longer the days run, I care a little less and drink a little more.

A cycle of repetition and crippling emotion.