July 29, 2012 by

Sunday Fun

9 comments

Categories: Sunday Fun

You Write it!

Hey, wait!

You can’t take your shirt off here….

*bites lip* And the tie…

Well, maybe you can.

What do the rest of you think?

 

9 Responses to Sunday Fun

  1. SJ Thomas

    “Last chance to walk away Eve, because once I take this shirt off I’m taking you.”
    Eve swallowed, and she had to force herself not to step back. Though his words were undeniably sexy, at the same time they also sounded like a threat.
    He’d warned her about his strength, his…appetites, had tried to get across to her how intense sex with him would be, but she’d convinced herself she’d could handle him.
    Now though with his shirt undone, displaying the chiseled muscles of his body, and that dark look in his eyes, she felt a small knot of anxiety deep in her core.
    “Well?” His harsh tone interrupted her thoughts and she dragged her gaze back up to his face. His expression was tense, needy, hungry almost and that hunger and need resonated deep within her.
    She took a deep breath and then boldly met his gaze. “Stop talking and strip.”

  2. Muffy Wilson

    Phoenix Rising

    We pulled into the driveway for it seemed like the first time. My whole body was rushing, my heart pounded through my chest like a downhill racer. We walked into the house and I offered her a drink; I had left the music playing and the lights dim so the view of the desert valley would shine against the night sky. I had hoped to hide the inevitable. She accepted the offer and excused herself to freshen up.

    She returned from the bathroom in just her lace underwear and lipstick. I gulped a breath at her barefooted beauty, suspended in this moment, as if it were the first time I had ever seen her. She was the most beautiful person I had ever known, and she loved me. She whispered her love in screams of passion against my fevered chest….a chest she had not laid eyes upon in several months.

    “Show me”, she murmured in the softest tone. “Show me everything.”

    I hesitated for a moment too long to her liking. She rose; the crescendo of the music carried her to my side and she traced her red-tipped fingers across my chest as she circled around me to my back. She grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled my head from the back.

    “Show me,” and Scheherazade filled the room with mounting anticipation in the fragrant, darkened shadows lit only by the flickering eyes of God.

    Relieved she was at my back, I started to take off my tie and shirt. Impatient was she, her arms around me from behind, with deft hands and fingers at ready work on my shirt.

    I couldn’t breathe. My heart palpitated and my pulse raced in eager anticipation. I was frozen. I wanted what we wanted but resisted the inescapable reveal of that first moment. The veins in my neck stretched the announcement of my heat; perspiration formed on my upper lip as she unbuttoned my shirt. And she circled to the front.

    “Now, the tie…….take it off,” she near growled.

    I complied with nervous stumbling fingertips, afraid of the end result. Fearful of her negative response, would she be able to tell? Would the scars belie my secret revealing me to the world as a fraud? Would it make a difference? More than that, would she still love me…want me?

    At once, my clothes were in a fabric puddle around my feet; her eyes consumed every line, every inch, and every nuance of my body. She walked around me, then stood before me. Framed by the image of the purple hued desert valley below with the stars in the night above. Dressed only in satin and lace, she smiled.

    Her smile broke the anxious expectation of anticipation; I relaxed, nervously, and finally breathed in what had seemed like an eternity.

    “I can’t call you LuAnne anymore; will Larry do, darling?”

  3. Erin Penn

    Greta stared at her patients for three minutes, watching the clock had tucked behind a fern click away the seconds. Unlike most couples, neither of the Donnellys had a problem with the quiet. Wyatt knew how to use silence as a weapon during contract negotiations, and Liza … well Liza was happy for time to get lost in her own thoughts now the counseling had extracted the pain buried in her mind. Greta knew the lack of conversation affected Wyatt, and he tended to be the person which needed to be reduced in power.

    “Okay, I just wanted you to know I believe we have been making real progress.” Greta smiled with assurance. “Today’s session, I thought we would work on removing barriers.”

    “Has Liza complained about barriers?” Wyatt glanced at his wife, the movement of his head changing the balance on the sofa just enough to start tilting him towards Liza. He quickly corrected to the rigid posture.

    Along with nine sessions as a couple, Greta had been supplementing with one-on-one visits. Liza never asked about Wyatt’s sessions, but Wyatt was always trying to find out about Liza’s sessions “No, Wyatt,” Greta corrected, “you have been complaining about barriers.”

    “I have done no such thing.” Greta’s smile widened, and Wyatt hastily went on to add, realizing how often the expert he was paying for had proven him wrong on his motivations. “Have I?”

    “You tell me after we do an exercise to break the ice.”

    The couple relaxed infinitesimally. The clinical psychologist often started sessions with an exercise. Greta mirrored the startup activity by ending the sessions assigning homework. Greta knew the couple was relaxing because they started tilting together. The sofa was one of the best tools in her marriage counseling arsenal. Wyatt corrected his posture first, Liza didn’t correct until Wyatt’s repositioning nearly toppled her into him.

    “Wyatt, please stand.”

    Wyatt stood to one side of the sofa.

    “Now I want you to remove all your clothing except your underwear.”

    Wyatt grew flustered. “What, why?”

    “We are removing barriers, remember. Clothing is ultimately a barrier.” Greta paused a moment, giving the couple time to process the explanation. “Pretend I am not in the room, and remove your clothing for your wife. You want your marriage to work, do this to represent removing a barrier, one at a time.”

    Wyatt turned so he could no longer see the doctor. Facing his wife, staring at her face, he slowly removed the cufflinks and tossed them on the coffee table. He loosened his tie and buttoned his vest and black tuxedo shirt. His outfit screamed money from its fine fabric to the personal tailoring.

    Greta arranged her face into clinical detachment as the man slowed his motions. Liza’s eyes never darted to where Greta sat, instead Liza’s pupils darkened and her face flushed. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips when Wyatt unzipped his trousers.

    Most people would not admit it, but everyone had a little exhibitionist in them. They liked to look good and be successful and have other people see them look good and be successful, whether working, swimming, or having sex. Having Greta in the room turned the Donnellys on, changed the dynamics of their damaged relationship. They were doing something different and remembering the initial attraction because someone else in the room made them see things differently.

    Once Wyatt was completely stripped, Greta asked, “Liza, what do you see?”

    “What? Oh, I see Wyatt.”

    “What else?” Greta prodded.

    “He’s naked?” The intellectual ended the statement as a question, unsure of what the counselor was looking for.

    “Anything else?”

    “He’s got a hard-on.”

    “Anything else?”

    “I don’t know. What are you looking for?” Exasperation entered Liza’s voice. “He’s got great abs?”

    “Do you see his money?” Greta asked.

    “No, how would you see that?”

    “How about his business?”

    “Goodness, no.”

    “So all you see is your husband. All you see is a man.”

    “Yes,” Liza nodded. “With a hard-on.” She added since she liked accuracy.

    “So all you see is a sexual creature you are attracted to.”

    Liza eyes grew round as the meaning sunk in. Greta could always count on Liza getting it.

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