Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (73) Lovely Young Eleanor

The lovely young Eleanor is a pretty young woman, a sweet dusky maiden with luscious skin the shade of molten chocolate with an exotic scent that makes your head spin and your pulse race, leaving you dizzy with delight.

Her sweet Angelic face, is heavenly framed with rich soft curls,
as black as jet and shiny like a raven’s wing.

She looks at you with soulful eyes, warm and inviting which are brown like burnt sugar and possess a hypnotic quality.

Her exquisite nose is small and button like and is the perfect punctuation for her demerara lips, which are softly moist and wear a constant smile playing around them until she unleashes a full-bodied beam and her whole face lights up, bright enough to dazzle a star and making her dark eyes seductively beguiling.

Unintentionally coy and unambiguously sweet, elegant young Eleanor moves gracefully like a cat, while remaining playful as a kitten.
She is delicately limbed and is lithe and lissom with dainty hands and her feet are small like those of a child.

She holds her head high with assurance and confidence on her swan like neck which sits symmetrically on sculptured shoulders atop a sleek slender frame, possessed of a tiny waist and narrow hips.
Her small round buttocks are almost like a boys, and her breasts sit in perfect parity. Unimaginably she seems completely unaware of her allure and oblivious to her beauty and the effect she has on men and women alike.
Sceptical of any appeal, incredible as it may seem she doesn’t see the woman she has become or the woman she has been for many months.

She has come of age and is to all intents and purposes at ease with herself and she is in no hurry to squander her innocence, and her virginity will not be lost casually to someone undeserving. 

But perhaps the most wondrous thing about the lovely young Eleanor is that she will not recognise herself from this description of her and she will think it refers to a stranger, which all adds to the wonderful whole that she is and making her all the more desirable for it.

 

DREAM LOVER?

Was our secret love as special as it seems

Or were our liaisons only in my dreams

Am I remembering those nights clearly

When your heartbeat only for me

And we satisfied all of our passions

In all their varied forms and fashions

Could it be our exertions were a fallacy?

Our sexual gymnastics just a fantasy

Were those sensual hours spent with you?

Or just an imagined lover’s rendezvous

PERSONAL SERVICE

 

Satisfyingly slutty

Down on her knees,

Dressed in black silk

Eager to please

Tempting and toying

The teasing bitch

Bringing me to the point

When I twitch

Then as her efforts

On me increase

I explode it that

Sweet moment of release

INSIDE THE SILK

 

Cool silk against my hand

Soft skin beneath my palm

Fingers searching, exploring

Seeking out the source

Of sensual oils

She had secretly secreted

Fingertips touch waiting lips

Then enter to sweet labial bliss

And with deft manipulation

Of centres of erotic pleasure

I feel her body tremor

And but a heartbeat beyond

That primeval shudder

In hurried lack of ceremony

She bid me quickly enter

Those Memories Made on Teardrop Lake – (72) Christmas Party Girls

Steve Danone hated office parties, but at Cooper, Brandon and Holland Accountants in Shallowfield, it was an annual ritual that apparently had to be endured.

The reason he didn’t like them was that all the really nice girls turned out to have no taste in men whatsoever, the plain homely looking ones turned out to be total sluts, the friendly ones got all bitter and depressed and the outgoing bubbly ones just got falling down drunk.

And it was worse that year in particular because there was one girl that he particularly fancied, Carol Herd, and he really didn’t want to see what became of her after a few drinks so he went across the street to the Plough for a couple of hours and when he returned the party was over.

There were one or two revellers remaining, a middle-aged man called David was unconscious at his desk, a girl called Ellie from accounts was throwing up in her waste bin and a plain looking woman from legal called Dorcas was spread-eagled across the conference room table singing “O Holy Night”.

And the only thing about the scene that surprised him was that she was the senior partner.

“Same old, same old” he said as he returned to his office where he found Carol Herd sitting in his leather chair behind his desk.

“I think you are in the wrong office,” he said thinking she was drunk but she stood up and walked towards him

“Oh I don’t believe I am” she said, stone cold sober “Especially now that you’ve finally got here”

 

 

PRISONER OF LOVE

I stole a glance at you

Lustfully larcenous

More than one in fact

I was a repeat offender

A serial gazer

In perpetual regard

Loitering with intent to stare

In open mouthed infatuation

And you caught me

Apprehended me in the act

Of elicit observation

Your arresting look

Took custody of me

A petty felon

With prior form

And with merciless intent

You stole my heart

Without hesitation

No mere act of petty larceny

You took it from me

And at once captivated me

Imprisoned me

Behind the bars of love

Once in your possession

It became valueless

Scornfully regarded

You keep it under glass

On display

Where you can watch it beat

Or by capricious whim

Play with it

Like a cat plays with a mouse

While I die by inches

Knowing you have my heart

But not one of your own

So sits a prisoner of love

In sight of death row

Indefinitely incarcerated

Behind the bars of love

No hope of parole 

THE RUSTIC STILE AT LANES END

 

At lanes end

The rustic stile

Stands sentinel still

Marking that special place

Where the fates conspired

Our souls should meet

Though we purposely

Trod opposing paths

We met at that rustic spot

And to help you cross

I took your hand

Small and silken soft

Guiding you safe to my side

And despite the presence

Of each others companions

We were to all intents

Quite alone

And in those moments

When hand touched hand

We at once beheld

Our lives from that point on

Would be forever altered

And were content

With that destiny

 

At lanes end

The rustic stile

Stands like a monument

Marking the place of alteration

A significant place

A spiritual place oft revisited

And on such sojourns

We would find renewal

As the energizing memory

Of that special moment

Assailed our senses

Essentially invigorating

Like imbibing the waters

From the fountain of youth

And our hearts would once again

Resound with joyousness

And sweet moments of romance

Those excited tingles

Of loves first passion

When hearts beat faster

And desire courses

Through every fibre

The thrill of blossoming love

Adding to the strata

Of our love laid down

Through all our years

By returning to the place

Of loves wondrous inception

We keep our love alive

And in equal measure

Love returns the favour