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Tell Me A Story, Desdmona
illustration by garv

What a Beautiful Day

By Desdmona

This story contains sexually explicit scenes.

I strolled along Main Street and every so often glanced at my reflection in shop windows. Even I could see the bit of bounce in my step. I was full of energy and knew it was from the wonderful morning I had spent with Jimmy.

He woke up horny and needy, then woke me up as well. The sexy smell of sleep, arousing as foreplay, clung to his skin. A tug on my breast, a tweak of my nipple, and I was squirming. His body was warm and smooth, free from the tension that showed when the stress of a day wore on.

I started to speak and Jimmy whispered, “Shh, don’t say anything. Just feel,” and I did. His hand splayed across my belly and his nimble fingers massaged, ever so slightly, whisking closer and closer to my line of pubic hair.

He kissed my neck with fevered lips, his breath igniting my blood beneath. His fingers slipped further downward, and I let them, encouraged them in fact, by opening my legs wide. I loved that feeling when you open your legs and your labia part. Air rushes in. Cool against heat.

That’s exactly how it was. I’m not sure if I’d ever told Jimmy how good it felt to open my legs wide, but Jimmy has a way of knowing what I like. Sometimes, though, it was fun to say it aloud just to see his shocked reaction.

“You make me want to spread my legs,” I might whisper, and wait for his moan.

But not this morning. This time, as his fingers delved deeper, I didn’t speak, because he’d asked me not to.

Time didn’t stand still, but it did feel like we were moving in slow motion. I noticed every nuance. He used the pads of his fingers instead of the tips, pressing and petting. His middle finger did most of the work, swirling and swirling. His morning beard scratched my neck like prickly heat. His easy breaths deepened to exaggeration. Tiny hairs on his arm brushed against the inner part of my thigh. His penis twitched and thudded against my outer leg.

Often our lovemaking was fast and physical, rushing against the clock, ending in sweaty, tired muscles. This time it was leisurely touching.

It was natural for me to grab his penis and match him touch for touch. Small droplets of pre-cum trickled from his penis. With the pad of my middle finger, I smeared it around. Swirling. Petting. Finger painting.

He fingered inside my folds and dipped into my vagina. Squishy noises echoed. I wrapped my hand around his shaft. His pulse beat wildly against it. We lay there together, side by side, masturbating the other in rhythm. It was personal and beautiful, and it was love. Without discussing it, we tried to come together. My clitoris was too greedy. My hunger too deep. I edged past him to the finish, but barely.

And now eight hours later, I was still feeling the power of the morning. What a beautiful day.

Jimmy called and asked me to meet him for dinner. He hinted he had a serious question to ask. All afternoon I wondered if the question was about marriage.

Jimmy had never taken the plunge. I had, once, for a very brief and ugly time. But that was a long time ago. Jimmy and I had been together for two years. It was time to move the relationship along. Or so I thought.

As I walked, I grew confident that by the end of the evening, I would be engaged. It made me grin.

The sun was extraordinarily intense and reflected off the cars like glittering diamonds. A woman passed and the breeze grabbed hold of her perfumed scent, tossing it back to my nose – sweet mixed with woodsy. Busy street sounds played like an orchestra finely directed. A beautiful day.

I stepped inside the restaurant, half expecting a dark room full of ambiance – perfect for a marriage proposal. Instead it was light. In fact, the sun shone so brightly through the windows, it was difficult to see Jimmy sitting at a small booth.

He stood up. “Hiya, baby,” he said, knowing I loved it when he called me baby.

He kissed me on the cheek and nodded toward my seat. He clasped my hands in his across the table. His hands were moist. Jimmy was nervous.

“You know, baby,” he said. “There’s something I need to ask you.”

The waitress interrupted. Jimmy let go of my hands and sighed. It was adorable. We ordered drinks but put off ordering our food. He grabbed my hands again and instead of continuing his speech, he just stared at me.

Jimmy always had a dreamy look – bedroom eyes- something about their color of blue, or maybe it was the absence of lines around them. He gazed at me now as if to hypnotize me with those dreamy eyes. I didn’t dare speak. He made tiny circles in my palms with his fingertips, and I was reminded of our morning.

He was turning me on. My panties were damp. I wanted to scream at him to just ask me. The waitress would be back soon, and we’d have to deal with menus.

Finally, he spoke. “Baby, I want to ask you something, and I want you to think about it. Promise me you won’t say a word until you’ve thought about it?”

I nodded, trying to be as serious as he.

“OK, here goes,” he began. He wasn’t on his knees.

“I’ve been wondering for a very long time ... ” his grip on my hands tightened.

“If ... ” He licked his lips. I opened mine.

“Can we, um, well, can we ... ” He let out his breath. I held mine.

“Can we get a dog?” He smiled. My mouth dropped open.

Did he really just ask me to get a dog? I started to laugh. A little at first, and then uncontrollably.

“What’s so funny,” he asked.

But I refused to tell him. How could I?

We ordered our food – pasta primavera, garlic toast, salad – and agreed on a dog – English springer spaniel. The meal zipped past.

Jimmy had to rush back to his office, something about forgotten papers, and told me he would see me at home. He brushed the hair back from my eyes, held his face to mine cheek-to-cheek and then he was gone.

I left the restaurant disappointed. Clouds had moved in, and it began to drizzle. I poked along staring at raindrops as they smacked against the pavement. A man in a hurry tried to wedge past me and growled when bumping me slowed his stride. I reached my car and spotted a pink slip on its windshield. Great. A parking ticket to boot.

I grabbed the slip and glanced at it. In bold black letters, written in familiar penmanship, were the words: “DON”T WE HAVE TO BE MARRIED TO HAVE A DOG?”

What a beautiful day!

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