The Mace, Junkie Bells, and other tripe writings by OTP deplorables :D

[StratBastard]

[StratBastard]

Once inside, Hindi is instantly comfortable, settling into the new surroundings with the ease of a nomad. It's much nicer than where she lives, and she luxuriates in the fresh and clean environment. She tosses her bag next to the bed, fishes out a smaller collection of toiletries, and goes right into the bathroom.

"I'm going to take a bath," she declares, already starting the water and stripping off her sweater.

"Sure, okay," I say, and start to turn away from the door.

"Come in and sit, talk to me?" she asks, peeling her jeans and underwear off her wriggling hips.

So, I close the lid on the toilet and sit. She unsnaps her little black lace bra and drops it in the growing pile. She gingerly steps into the filling tub, lies down and stretches full length; she has to put her feet high up on the tiles, the tub unable to accommodate her long slender legs. She begins to wash herself with pleasure, explaining that the facilities at Ganja's house are barely operable. She rarely has much privacy there, she says, or time to relax in a tub... there's too many people, too many demands on their small bathroom. She is chattering away at me nervously, but smiling and obviously glad to be here. Myself, I am still feeling like I won some outrageously huge lottery prize... I still don't really understand why this has occurred, or how I could have gotten here. I am more than a little nervous myself, as I have not been with another woman for the entire last decade. Jesus, what if I'm so nervous I can't?

She has pulled a pair of scissors from the small bag she brought in, and looking at me first, she ceremoniously begins to cut off the small leather bracelets which adorn each wrist. Apparently, this is something symbolic, a statement to herself of sorts.

"What's that all about?" I inquire with genuine interest.

She reaches out and drops them into the small wastebasket. "I'm deciding to make a new start," she says, a phrase I will hear in a dozen different earnest forms over the following years. "I don't want to be held to old promises that aren't genuine".

Finished, she towels herself briskly, tossing her long clean hair this way and that. She walks back into the room, replacing her things in the bag. She then stands back up, turns to me, and looks at me in a way that I found indescribable. Her chin is down a bit, her large green eyes wide and locked on mine. This look is consenting, welcoming, vulnerable, and captivating... saying you can have anything you want from me, I won't refuse you anything. Right here, right now, I am yours.

I move towards her, and she steps naked into my arms. Even with my boots on, she is as tall as I am, and her long body presses into my fully clothed one in an embrace. We stand just like that for a time, merely holding one another. Her arms tighten around me in near desperation, as if I might suddenly disappear. She cried a little then, with me holding her, soothing her. I felt myself losing all title to my own sovereign existence; I was hers too, come what may, regardless of consequences.

We finally break apart, and she stretches out on our bed (our bed!) without taking her eyes from me. I untie my boots and begin taking my clothes off while she watches. Her eyes still have that look, like she desperately wants me to be pleased. I don't think she really has, as of yet, any idea how utterly thrilled I am to be here with her. Naked now, I too lay down, and we are in each other's arms.

I am overwhelmed with the sensation of her; her breath on my lips, the smell of her hair filling me. I can't stop touching her face, tracing its shape... her perfect marble skin under my fingertips, under my mouth. The taste of her lips, her sweat, her juices. Her eyes look straight into me, and I hide nothing. Man and woman together, perhaps as it was once intended long ago, and then somehow became lost through the generations. I want her like I want my next breath.

Locked together in an embrace as old as time itself, we work together desperately endeavoring to become as one. We do the best we can, our eyes still round and astounded.

Her sex in my mouth is smooth like a fresh peach, sweet and blameless. Her hands are stretched to hold my head, her eyes watching, fascinated. To me, the scent of her was exotic yet familiar; I am like a long-lost mariner, his face in the wind, finally seeing his homeland on the horizon. With this woman, I belonged. With Hindi, I have finally come home.

[StratBastard]

[StratBastard]

[StratBastard]

Me at 10 years old.

[StratBastard]

[MountainGirl]

Are you writing again?

Again. LOLOLOL

[StratBastard]

[StratBastard]