Where do you go when all the lines are running across your vision like blurred tears, or rain (or just smudges of your conscience)?



D’jaevle draws back slowly, his eyes meeting and holding hers. And then his hands drop to her waist, turning her to face him – his grip firm, movements sure. Pressing forward, his head lowers immediately to her chest, drawing a line down along the top of her breast, along the edge, savoring the bare skin.

Wynn tips her head back with a moan, eyes shut. Her hands start at his shoulders, then slide down his back firmly, moving back up again… fingers pressing against him through his clothing.

D’jaevle presses back against her fingers, his head moving back to her neck and his own hands resting on the front of her jeans, fingers hooked, “To push the edge.” His fingers unsnap the top button, drawing the zipper down. His fingers press down, slightly, just under the edge of her panties, “…press into you?”

Wynn gasps, her eyes snapping open, looking into his, now. She pushes her hips against his hand, invitingly. “Yes.” She keeps her eyes locked on his, her hands push her jeans down her hips and drop to a pile at her ankles. Taking a step forward, she rests her hands on his shoulders, rocking her hips to press against his hand.

D’jaevle holds her gaze. Without hesitation, his hand slides between her skin and her panties, palm inward, hand curved so that she can feel it, from the tip of his fingers, to his palm, slide with deliberate patience against her heat.

Wynn bites her lip, her eyes shut briefly as she groans, then open again to lock back on his. She moves her hips back and forth, enjoying the feel of his hand. Her voice is breathy, gasping between words… “The line… between the two… seems to be blurring … quite nicely.” Her brow furrows as she lets out another groan of approval.

D’jaevle keeps his hand utterly still as she rocks against it, letting her press harder, pushing his hand deeper against her. His other runs to her neck, fingers pressing against it, lightly; his own breathing a ragged match, “You said…as much reality as given. Can you take,” His fingers spread against her, pressing hard, “real fingers?”

Wynn cries out… “Yes!” Her knees begin to buckle… her entire body trembling from the intense pleasure. She holds onto his shoulders firmly, keeping herself as steady as she can.

D’jaevle ever so slightly tightens his fingers that now hold her neck, his other hand unexpectedly meeting one of her thrusts, fingers poised and now slipping deep inside, only to draw out again and remain still, and then, a few thrusts later, press in again, deeper. His voice soft, a bit hoarse, “Real fingers…pressed inside…what of a real voice, pushing harder still? “

Wynn nods quickly, a loud moan released with each thrust of his fingers inside her. She feels her legs begin to weaken, she slowly lowers herself down to the ground, attempting to pull him along with her without breaking the thrusts.

D’jaevle follows her down to the ground, pressing her knees upward, thighs parted slightly. His hand presses down, sliding her panties to mid-thigh, his eyes flickering down and then back up to meet her eyes, his hunger in his words, “Can you handle that?””

Wynn nods again. “Try me and see…” She meets his gaze, the same desire reflected back at him through her eyes, grinning slyly up at him. She kicks off her panties, spreading herself along the ground. “But… can you?”

Too Much (What Prowls)

When is it too much? When do you draw the line?

What if you exist between the lines? What if you are defined by that which you are tempted with?

For a long time I have been at least partially defined by my crimson streaks. The swathe of red that carves a path through my nervous system when my interest is piqued. A velvet touch, this bloody desire parts the veil for me. And I see what it is we struggle for so long to bury, the layers we hide under civility and domestic direction – the wolf under the skin.

We all have a creature that prowls here, in the dark. Cats with twitching tails (if you’re quiet enough you can hear its *swishing* as it watches with yellow eyes, waiting); falcons with wings furled and eyes that catch everything; wolves that know when to go for the throat.

It is never *enough* for them. They cannot be satiated with a few choice morsels. It only excites their hunger, gives them strength, until it is with their eyes that you watch, their desire with which you hunt or are hunted, their joy with which you couple and conspire to achieve.



D’jaevle runs his fingers down your side, resting them on your hips as his lips part, tasting the curve of your ear, teeth grazing before tugging lightly.

Wynn takes in a breath… “I really should go… before I’m not able to anymore.” She grins.

D’jaevle lingers for just a moment, his lips warm against your skin, sharing heat, “And that is such a bad thing?”

Wynn bites her lip. “Sometimes…”

D’jaevle presses his palms slowly down the tops of your thighs, his mouth finding the hollow just under your jaw line, “When is temptation so bad?”

Wynn tilts her head back, her breathing ragged. “When it gets in the way of responsibility…”

D’jaevle curls his fingers, moving up slowly, feeling you shiver under his touch. Lips trace your throat, “Even when you can feel it along every inch of skin?”

Wynn nods slowly, her arms sliding around his waist. “When it clouds your mind… making you forget things you should be doing.” She shivers.

D’jaevle draws his hands along your stomach, slipping under fabric to find your skin, “Even when you can feel the heat burning from the inside?”

Wynn nods and groans, attempting to pull back from him…

Finely Tuned Instrument

Lines are where it all begins and where all good (bad) things end. They delineate. They divide. They border, they bind, they define. Lines are blurred, stirred, concurred and perturbed by the right questions and wrong answers. Words paint lines in broad bold strokes that encircle, entice, intrude. Words resurrect you. Words nudge aside, limbo underneath, and soar over the lines in our lives.

I love a good word whore. The syntax of their needs is a language I speak in many tongues.


futile finger length concepts
Slip, supple, sap, spilling across the page
dripping sarcasm like lovers
feels like frosted torture against black veins
that spider across the white parchment
we call skin

mediocre maybe –
     but I take my lessons from the pen

lap the edge like honey,
     and take this line, from behind my innuendo

you can play it like a violin.
   or wrap it around your finger, lest you forget
you can wear it like jewelry,
   or weave it into a web for unsuspecting honesty
you can hang yourself from it,
   or you can wind it about your body like a cocoon

just don’t trip over it on your way out.

because this line

can hold you together

Slippery When Wet

Wet sex.

Wet, hot, slippery sex.

Licking water from curves, slick limbs trying to find purchase, water jets in the right place, sex.

I’ve run into trouble with this; during one scene with NE, I ran a bubble bath with the intention of pampering her: making her clean before making her dirty. Turns out some bubble bath lotions don’t react so well with her (…mentioned as I added lotion to the water).

I am undeterred.

I love watching her shower. It’s not so much a voyeuristic tendency as it is a singular window into an intensely honest and yet alluring sensual routine we all go through daily. Watching her shower, naked, vulnerable, is a promise to be made.

Have you ever had eyes watch you in such a quiet, accepting, demmanding, appreciative and yet quietly contemplative way, that you knew, just knew they desired to own every inch of your silvery wet skin and smouldering warmth? Every move – the way you shift your weight as you wash your arms, the way your wet hair falls across the back of your neck, the way your eyes close as you tilt your head back to wash your face – every move under an intensely intimate gaze?



Mandy pages: Oh man…trapped in this office til 8. Allll by my lonesome.
Mandy pages: Bummer. Sometimes I think of just chucking it and licking you all over. But still..I have this promise I made. I’m curious to see how well I do.

D’jaevle pages: ‘I’m curious to how well you do.’.

Mandy pages: well baby…I can do pretty damned well. I think you got a TASTE of that. I take pleasing a man very seriously. And to a degree…The reason why I don’t go casual…Is because sex involves for me…Giving a certain amount of ownership to a man of my body. Even temporarily.

From afar, Mandy licks her lips, runs her fingers through the soft scented kiwi strands of her auburn hair…and means it. I have a couch in my office. So just think of me lazily stretched out on it. Dangling one leg over the back of it…and drawing figures in the carpet below with one fingertip. Hair flowing over the side and painting itself onto the fabric.

D’jaevle pages: ‘Hrmmm. Pants, or skirt?’

Mandy pages: Today…It’s pants. Yesterday…wrap around skirt; the kind that if you tie it wrong…It just falls open to the side, exposing leg up to the thigh. Ya know…And this is no lie…I’ve never been this explicit with anyone in writing before.

Long distance to Mandy: D’jaevle grins. I tend to encourage that in people. I’m horrible.

Mandy pages: These talks took time, courage, and a certain flashback sensation of more physical memories.
Mandy pages: I do great wet hot naked showering too.

Long distance to Mandy: D’jaevle arches a brow. “Really?”

Mandy pages: Oh yeah.

D’jaevle pages: ‘The feel of wet skin rubbing, sliding against wet skin is exquisite. So is licking the water from someone’s thighs, shoulder, neck…

Mandy pages: And there is something verrrrry sensual about slowly running warm soapy fingers across every inch of your own body, enjoying the sensation; having a man contain the incredible rush of hormones as he washes your hair, breathes in deeply, knowing that soon…She will be nice and clean, ready to get hot sweaty…Dirty.

D’jaevle pages: ‘Bending someone over, hands on the wall in front, fingers slipping over a wet ass; or on the knee, her foot on the edge of the tub, thighs spread.’.

Mandy pages: Oh yeah…
Mandy pages: nails digging into moist flesh…

D’jaevle pages: ‘Fingers curling around each cheek, face buried against wet hair, tongue tasting.’

From afar, Mandy wickedly chuckles. I know you’re being prompted outside for a smoke…

Mandy pages: As I leave…I’m going to wonder what the sweet scent of close smoke will taste like on those soft lips. But alas time and circumstances prevail. It will be a taste not realized. Good night my handsome friend.

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part IV

Life is made of stories. Made of memories and anecdotes. Some of them are even true.

It Ends with A Story – 3/23/03

Ah, and this place. It is no longer so much about us, although that is there – it is purely about the tantalizing comfort of two partners trying a new step or two. About teasing. I am no longer trying to seduce her with what I plan to do with her and she is now too wise for herself, too far into it to enjoy the purety of just this. Now there is a story. This is the last time we found each other, the last time we spoke.

D’jaevle chuckles. Friday night was very interesting. One room, two beds, two girls, four guys.”

xyzia pages: “do tell!”

D’jaevle chuckles. We had just come back from the Strip club, and we were all rather drunk.”

xyzia pages: “and… give me graphic details :^D”

D’jaevle pages: “Well, it was hot, so we all ditched first layer clothes. The two girls were going to sleep in one bed, but I offered to give one a back massage, so she crawled into bed…”

xyzia pages: “and…?”

D’jaevle pages: “I gave her a back massage, which I am quite good at. Rather quickly, she was so relaxed, she didn’t object to my hands wandering. I don’t know what was happening on the other bed, but it was me, the girl, and on the other side, my friend Shane.”

xyzia pages: “and Shane is a guy, right?”

D’jaevle pages: “Yup.”

xyzia pages: “sounds like a situation I’D like to be in… ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “Eventually, we decided to try and sleep. I curled up behind her, spoon, and he was laying facing her.”

xyzia pages: “that’s IT?? i’m quite disappointed in you…”

D’jaevle laughs. “No, that’s not it.”

xyzia pages: “well get to the good stuff then! :^)”

D’jaevle pages: “She was wearing these small silk shorts and a tank top. It was very easy to run my hands along her waist and pull her back agianst me, so that I was nestled against her ass. I’m fairly sure, by this time, Shane was teasing her breasts. No way to tell, except from the sound and the way her chest was moving back against me. Rather quickly, she was moving her lower half as well. It didn’t take *too* much encouragement. And those silk shorts slid up her thigh like they weren’t there – easy to run fingers over naked skin and down along the front.”

xyzia nods and licks her lips

D’jaevle pages: “It wasn’t easy to spread her thighs, lying on her side as it was, but I wasn’t in a hurry. I took my time, and the first moment my fingers slid up against her, she shuddered. I was almost positive she was going to tell us to stop, but she didn’t. My fingers found her very warm, but not wet yet.”

D’jaevle pages: “Dressed?”

xyzia pages: “tank top and shorts…”

D’jaevle pages: “Take off your shorts…she didn’t start wet, but my friend was really enjoying himself Between the sucking sounds from the front and my fingers, which were gradually moving deeper every time I rubbed against her, she was…responding very well. I was also pressed rather tightly against her ass still. It didn’t take much to reach down…and adjust my boxers so that I was rubbing against the silk, back and forth against her ass. She began to press back against it.”

xyzia pages: “what was the other guy doing?”

D’jaevle pages: “Again…could not really see what Shane was doing, but she began to moan, at first softly, but gradually louder. Her silk shorts, bunched to the side, she felt how hard and hot I was against her bare skin. I think he was fingering her now in my place. I had moved my hands to her hips as she rocked back against me. Her body wanted *something* inside her. I don’t think she was entirely conscious about how far she had gone, but I wasn’t quite ready to let her off yet.”

xyzia pages: “how long will you be at work this evening?”

D’jaevle pages: “Not much longer. Why?”

xyzia pages: “i’m actually going out in a bit…or i’d offer to come over and let you *show* me what you did ;^)”

D’jaevle grins. Easier said then done. I don’t think I’d be as gentle with you.”

xyzia pages: “nor would i want you to…”
xyzia pages: “so continue spinning your yarn…”

D’jaevle pages: “What do you wear under the shorts?”

xyzia pages: “nothing. they’re pajama shorts”

D’jaevle pages: “She was breathing quite heavily by then. I wrapped a hand up around her throat, pressing my fingers along her lips, which she began to bite and suck on – it kept her a bit quieter until I did actually press against her from behind – she froze when she felt the head, but she was apparently too far gone to stop then.”

xyzia lets her fingers wander…

D’jaevle pages: “She remained frozen right until I slide inside – but not far. Just an inch or too. She shuddered again and bit down hard enough on my finger that I drew my hand back. I do know, at this point…Shanekissed her to quiet her down. I could hear noises from the other bed too.”

xyzia pages: “what sorts of noises? ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “One of the guys was rather vocal ;) I didn’t hear much from the girl, but their bed was creaking much worse then ours. I was moving very slowly, deliberately, when I teased her. She was almost constantly shivering…Finally, I got tired of waiting and gripped her hips and slammed her back against me, impaling her from behind.”

xyzia pages: “what happened next?”

D’jaevle pages: “I fucked her. Hard.”

xyzia pages: “did Shane get any? ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “Still wearing your shorts?”

xyzia pages: “they disappeared a while ago and, well, my fingers have been busy. i need more details ;^)”

D’jaevle pages: “I wanted to throw her over the edge of the bed and take her like that, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Shane, who was at least enjoying some parts of her. When I got close, I stopped, much to her complaint and slid out. Then – we rolled her over, so she was facing me. Her eyes were closed, but her mouth was open. I could feel her shudder when he entered her. I leaned over and bit down on her nipples, rolling them against my teeth.”

xyzia licks her lips and moans slightly as her fingers slide in and out of her…

D’jaevle pages: “He fucked her almost as hard as I did. I would alternate between breasts, drawing the hard tips in and then biting. Finally, when I knew she was getting close, I slid my hand down and found her clit.”

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part III

This is the dance. Tenative steps forward, jumping steps back. She wants this, but she doesn’t want disappointment. A phone call not quite made, a meeting missed.

It is often only in the hunger of the moment, or in the presence of chance, that true physical consumation occurs. Because both elements are not entirely hers to control, and therfore can be reasoned as acceptable…

Balance Found – 6/21/02

Six months later. We did not meet the day after our last conversation.

There is still some pretense that we may meet; we are, in truth, just minutes from each other. And yet, we have found a rhythm to this play. She has matured in her writing and demeanor. It is an on-line maturation I have seen so many go through – starting with curious, passionate steps. Becoming knowledgeable, direct, pressing.

D’jaevle watches you, his eyes tracing the curve of your shoulders, the slow expanse of your skin, waiting.

xyzia’s hands pause at the clasp on the front of her bra, resting between her breasts. she unsnaps it and slowly, tantalizingly peels the material over first her left breast, then slowly over her right breast, turning her head slightly

D’jaevle’s breath catches in his throat, fingers clenching together, straining to hold utterly still as he waits.

xyzia slowly draws the lacy material over her shoulders and drops it to the floor. her fingers play over her skin and she gasps softly as she encounters her sensitive nipples

D’jaevle very slowly presses up along your back; you can feel his warmth, his body against yours. Hands come to rest on your hips. His eyes look over your shoulder, watching your hands move against your own skin.

xyzia reclines her head to rest against your shoulder, giving you a better view of her moving hands. she licks her index fingers and passes them over her nipples again, opening her lips slightly as she waits for your touch.

D’jaevle makes you wait as surely as you’ve made him wait, content, for the moment, to find the soft skin of your stomache, fingers spread to stroke slowly. His breath is soft, and just a bit harsh, against your neck.

xyzia turns to face you, pressing her fragile flesh against your clothing, enjoying the roughness.

D’jaevle captures your hands as they rest on your breasts, his eyes meeting yours as you face him. Carefully, slowly, he presses your palms down against your nipples, dragging your fingertips, fingernails, over the sensitive tips.

xyzia struggles against your grasp, wanting you to have your way with her. she leans forward and licks your chin, bites your bottom lip and

D’jaevle finally presses your hands away, replacing them with his, fingers finding each hard tip and rolling them, firm and slowly. He returns the bite with one of his own, his hunger taking yours. “I want to use you.”

xyzia’s breathing increases, her heart races as she kisses you deeply, her tongue exploring your mouth.

D’jaevle shares the kiss, taking his time, his control like a hard wall as he slips his tongue along yours, hands grasping each breast firmly, body hot along yours, “And to think, you are just minutes away.”

xyzia shivers as if an electric shock moves throughout her body and surrenders to your touch, wanting you to use her for you sick twisted pleasure…

D’jaevle presses you back, until you feel yourself held against the wall, pressed hard. His teeth fall to your neck, biting, almost enough to draw blood, leaving red marks as he moves lower still, finding the tender flesh of your breasts, his mouth like a furnace as he draws each nipple in, relentless in his hunger.

xyzia moans as she feels you tearing at her flesh as she runs her fingers through your hair and pulls your head closer to her body

D’jaevle draws his fingernails down your back, straight lines against your skin. His teeth graze each nipple, playing, teasing – and then bite, tugging it out, rough and slow, letting you feel the slow pressure against you.

xyzia struggles against you and leans down to grasp your shirt

D’jaevle grips your hand, leaving your breasts long enough to drag your hand down to the edge of your skirt, up and underneath, pressing it under your panties, so that your fingers are forced against you, “Tell me, are you wet?”

xyzia breathes heavily as she feels the moisture which has soaked through the material…a slight moan escaping her lips at the touch against her clit

D’jaevle keeps your hand locked against you, spreading your fingers with his own so you can feel it drag against you as he pulls your hand back and forth. His eyes are hard now, watching your face, voice harsh, “Need it, don’t you?”

xyzia feels her knees weaken and the desire like a flame between her legs. she thinks she can’t stand to be denied any longer and wonder how long you’ll continue to torture her like this…

D’jaevle pushes your hand away, his fingers swiftly deftly under your panties, finding the moist heat with a sure touch, fingertips slow as they draw down against your clit, “You remember how close I live?”

xyzia nods vigorously as she watches you with eyes slightly glazed over

D’jaevle slowly pinches your clit, just enough for the pressure to build as his lips trace your neck, “What would you do if I came over right now?”

xyzia pants…submit to your touch, surrender to your will, crave the closeness of your body…

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part II

What is it about the first bite that makes it taste so damn good?

Infatuation – 12/06/01

And after that initial taste, the pressing for more. What starts as curiosity has become something elsefor her, something she isn’t entirely familar with yet – and because of that, it has some hold.

What is so intriguing for me is the evolution Xyzia goes through in our discussions over time. Here, at the beginning, she is almost poetic, dramatic in her expression of desire.

xyzia pages: “its razor sharp edge slices through me and leaves an emptiness that longs to be filled”

xyzia pages: “my hunger is a passionate burning deep within my soul which threatens to ignite the very air surrounding me”

xyzia pages: “every touch kindles the flames ever hotter — i wonder how long i can endure the denial of fulfillment”

xyzia pages: “the pressure of your touch, the warmth of your skin, your breath on my tender neck — all are as real to me as if we shared the same room”

xyzia pages: “every inch of my body aches for your touch, knowing i won’t ever feel complete until i’ve submitted to your most intimate desires”

xyzia pages: “i’ll be torn apart by the absence of it and perhaps the same may happen with it. i’ll brave the danger for the promise of wishes reaching fulfillment…”

xyzia presses her body against you with all her might, urging you on but fearful of what may come next


xyzia runs her fingers through your hair, pulling you head closer, biting your earlobe, tracing its curve with her tongue

D’jaevle enjoys the feel of you against this knee, but pauses, his hands sliding up to the chemise even higher, over your breasts. His warm breath tickles your skin as he leans inward, leaving a trail of small moist kisses down the skin, teeth grazing, almost a bite, “Do you still plan on allowing me that massage?”

xyzia pages: “the thought of it makes my skin tingle in anticipation and creates a warmth in my innermost secrets”

D’jaevle draws his lips over the tip of your right nipple, mouth parted just enough to taste, to tease, “Say yes then. Tell me you want it.”

xyzia pages: “oh, yes — i want it! i want to submit to your touch, to feel your hands all over my body”

D’jaevle draws your nipple upwards, captured between his teeth – tugging lightly, slowly, and then a bit harder before his tongue slips over the tip, “Tell me you want to meet me and allow me to give that massage.”

xyzia pages: “i want you like no woman has ever wanted a man before now. i look forward to that meeting like i’ve never looked forward to any single event before…”

D’jaevle moves to your other nipple, nuzzling first, and then letting it slip into his mouth, bathing it in heat, his tongue rubbing rhythmically along the tip, “And will you ask for it?”

xyzia whimpers…i’ll do whatever you say. i don’t know with what magic spell you’ve enchanted my mind and removed my will but i need you to touch me, hold me, control me…will you do this?

D’jaevle nips the tip of your nipple before releasing it, his hands shifting to your hips, rocking you again against his knee as he leans you back, his lips tasting your skin, moving down your chest, “Would you do it tonight, if I was home?”

xyzia smiles…would you do it tonight if you were home?

D’jaevle presses his face softly against your stomache, taking in your heat and scent, “When I decide to do something, I do it.”

xyzia wonders if you’ve resolved to gift her with your skilled touch and if so when you will be home

D’jaevle smiles. I am resolved to gift you with a hunger that will eat you alive.

xyzia waits to be relished and devoured. name the time and i’ll count the seconds…

D’jaevle pages: “Tell me…how are you dressed tonight?”

xyzia pages: “tonight i’m wrapped in a black velvet robe with nothing but nature’s glory beneath…”

xyzia runs her hands over the soft fabric of her robe, hands encountering the place where it parts, fingers exploring the private recesses of her body

D’jaevle closes his eyes to see this in his mind. “A cruel image for someone stuck at work. But very…very enjoyable.”

xyzia smiles a wicked little smile and plants the additional imagery of the robe parting, exposing tender breasts with erect rosy nipples…

D’jaevle shivers slightly. Very cruel. And now I am even more warm.

xyzia laughs, reveling in the thought of your warmth and potential embarrassment. i, too, can be wicked and cruel ;^)

D’jaevle opens his eyes, regarding you with a smile, “So it appears. And how hungry are you now?”

xyzia traces the curve of her breast, running a finger down to her navel, parting her long legs as her hand discovers the warmth and moistness of the folds of her labia…

D’jaevle can imagine being on his knees in front of your chair, hands on each of your knees, eyes on your own hands.

xyzia wonders if she should continue or leave you with these images…

D’jaevle smiles..if you are enjoying them, if you enjoy your hand pressing aginst you thigh, and me imagining it…continue. For I am.

xyzia laughs. i’m enjoying the thought of lying naked in your mind, your eye taking in every detail of my body and wanting to know more…

D’jaevle pages: “Wanting to taste it. To taste your neck, the curve of your breasts, your hips.”

xyzia wants to hear more about what you plan to do to her tomorrow

D’jaevle pages: “What do you plan to wear?”

xyzia was thinking more of what she wouldn’t be wearing and hadn’t considered her actual attire… ;^)

D’jaevle grins. Good point. I will likely start with that promised massage. Have you laid out on my bed, hands on your bare back, enjoying the first touch against your skin. Letting you wonder.

xyzia smiles…and then?

D’jaevle pages: “From the massage, I intend to make you hungry. Just from the touch. The slow languid strokes down the back, the caress of breathing against your neck as I lean over, fingers finding the edge of your breasts.”

xyzia closes her eyes and smiles at this imagery

D’jaevle pages: “And when I hear the catch in your breathing, that you’ve gotten used to my touch, my hands will catch on your jeans, or skirt, and slowly draw it down over your ass, exposing an inch of skin at a time, an inch traced with moist kisses. Daring, hungry.”

xyzia sighs and spreads her legs further, enjoying the thought of this ;^) the thought of your hands, your breath, your lips…am i being too forward?”

D’jaevle pages: “If I say I will then roll you over and nuzzle your thighs, is that being too forward?”

xyzia laughs…i might shock you with the thoughts i’m having

D’jaevle pages: “I am not sure you could do that .”

Anatomy of a Brief Affair, Part I

Internet time.

It applies to more than .com companies and IPOs. More than how quickly engineers can double the current computer processing speed.

It applies to on-line relationships.

For a while I believed that on-line communication made it easier to get the heart of things. It stripped away pretense. But in truth, it doesn’t strip away – it merely paints over. The masks are just that much easier to wear. Yes, it can make things more honest. You may lie about your appearance, or age, or even your sex. Yet, really, why lie about the important things? Like your ideas, your secrets, your life. It is often easier to confide in a stranger then it is to someone who actually knows you.

Because this medium is made of words, certain steps go much faster. You quickly move beyond small-talk. You discuss relationships. Art. Sex. Love. There is an inherent mystery in the relationship, an aphrodisiac not to be underestimated. There is the promise of safety, which in turn promotes freedom and – at times – excess. One-night stands that last milliseconds in the pace of time on the Internet.

Chronicled here is one of those.


The Meeting – 11/19/01

It took only 15 minutes to determine that we lived within a couple blocks from each other; considering we were chatting in a geographically diverse locus in this particular rest stop on the information super-highway, it was a rather striking and interesting coincidence. After making introductions…

D’jaevle pages: “At least you have an outlet; my over-active imagination gets me into trouble.”

xyzia pages: “such as…”

D’jaevle pages: “Hrmmm. Such as wondering how someone will react to words, an image – a touch in words.”

xyzia pages: “such as… ;^)”

D’jaevle considers you for a moment and then steps forward, moving to your side and then slipping behind you, fingers brushing your hair from your neck; his touch light, fingertips along the nape of the neck, breath tickling the exposed skin as he leans inward.

xyzia smiles. “It’s like you’ve read my mind…that is SUCH a turn on spot”

D’jaevle smiles, “And such a fun spot to tease…a light touch, maybe fingers, maybe lips, warm against the skin, perhaps finding that spot just behind the ear.”

xyzia pages: “so tell me what you look like so i can have a mental image”

D’jaevle pages: “Why don’t I just stand in front of my window, maybe you’ll see me : )”

xyzia laughs and gets her binoculars

“I barely had to touch myself, just thinking of you…”

And so I invoke the Lady – Whereto now, lady risk, wrist taking, listless in swift tender bites? – and offer up my stake in sweetest arrays found in carefully crafted plans.

Imagine this.

A room, a lady, and a place to hold words.

There are days when I read the writings of others and I think the cup doth runneth over. How can this vessel, these bits, these electrical volts and fiber-guided lights, bring to my fingers the promise of temptation and the implements of hell?

This conversation takes place about a week after this conversation. I had spent some time with her a few years earlier, and in the interim she had married. We had plans for lunch in a week or two. Just lunch between old friends.


Karin pages: how are you…feeling

D’jaevle pages: ‘I could tell you…that I can feel myself getting hard. ‘

Karin pages: and I could tell you that I was starting to get wet the moment I said something

D’jaevle pages: ‘I could say that thinking of you there…getting wet…God, I want to reach down and feel it. How are you dressed?’.

Karin pages: in jeans, and a sweater tank top…I can just imagine your touch

D’jaevle pages: ‘You could slip off your jeans. You are at home…it wouldn’t be uncomfortable…’.

From afar, Karin slowly unzips her jeans and slides them down over her ass, letting them drop to the floor.

From afar, D’jaevle takes a deep breath…I can feel my cock twitch, pressing against my thigh when I read that. Tell me how it feels to be sitting naked and wet, talking to me while your husband sleeps. It makes you even wetter, being bad with me, doesn’t it?’.

From afar, Karin reaches back up, hooking her fingers under the bands of her panties, slowly sliding them down over her ass as well. “I can feel the shiver emanating from my clit. I can imagine your cock, hard against me…My skin is flush, and I can feel my nipples hard against my shirt. I am running my hand over my clit, imagining your tongue there instead…hungry and wanting…hot and wet – practically feeling your hands holding me.

D’jaevle pages: ‘Is that what you want? To feel my tongue along your pussy, hot and rough as it drags over your clit? To slide one leg over my shoulder as you feel my face pressed tight against your wet heat, licking deep and hard? I want you to feel my teeth grazing your clit, nibbling as you clench your thighs around my face, fucking up against me. Do you want to cum for me, Katie?’

Karin pages: god, yes…and I want you to come for me…to know how much it excites you – god, I’m getting so close…mmm…I’m dripping, and so close to coming…

D’jaevle pages: ‘God….yes…I want to hear you cum, I want you to hear me cum with you, to know my hand is moving faster. Tell me you’ve thought of that day we meet. Tell me what you want when we meet. Finding your bare skin, your naked thighs…fingertips brushing against your pussy. And you’re going to spread your legs for me, aren’t you?’.

Karin pages: I’ve fantasized about it while masturbating…playing with my clit and imagining you there instead. I want to sit at the table, feeling your hand sliding up my thigh, your fingers brushing against me. oh yes, giving you access to anything you want to take…feeling your finger, inching their way closer, imagining them inside me.

D’jaevle pages: ‘You really want this, don’t you? Want it bad…like me. You’re going to be wet before we even sit. I might put my hand on your thigh, to feel your warm skin under my fingers. I might slide my fingers up under your skirt to see if you kept your word on your outfit….’.

Karin pages: just enough to check

From afar, D’jaevle looks into your eyes….think of my fingertips right there, pressing against you. Feel it. Cum. Cum on them for me. Hard….God.

Karin pages: oh god, god. I barely had to touch myself, just thinking of you…

“Some kisses are expensive.”

I adore breasts whose curves promise heaven. Large, small, medium. A handful, a mouthful, a facefull. Breasts with small, dark, large and light nipples. I love them all. But what is it about them that captures me so?

It is the hints they give us as cleavage. A study of lines that pulls the eye downward. They are very hard to hide – they make their presence known through layers of clothing. They are femininity and sensuality. They are a gateway to pleasure. They are a place to rest and a place to get lost in. They are mother, wife, and lover.

In my thoughts, one favored idea is that of tying her up and teasing her breasts until she cannot bear it anymore – and then pushing past. Keeping her captive and seeing just how closely tied are the lines between nipples and clit. Holding her down and nuzzling, licking, sucking, biting, tasting until her nipples ache and her body is taunt with unrelieved tension.


D’jaevle pages, “So what do you want for Christmas?”

Isolde pages, “Hmmms…a kiss?

D’jaevle presses in closer, his body warm as he slips behind you, drawing your hair aside, “Some kisses are expensive.”

Isolde pages, “Uh oh. I wasn’t aware of that…” Isolde leans back into you, closing her eyes. “Hmmm…so do you think I’d be able to afford one?”

D’jaevle runs his lips slowly over the curve of your throat, tasting your skin and the subtle heat underneath it. He chuckles softly, his teeth finding a place at the edge of your neck, grazing your skin. “How much can you pay?”

Isolde whimpers, wriggling back against you, reaching back to touch the sides of your thighs, “For one of yours? Any price…”

D’jaevle chuckles softly, his tongue teasing the edge of your ear, tracing it slowly. Hands rest on your waist, drawing you back against his knee. “You say that, but…”

Isolde subtly rubs herself back on your knee, turning your head, her lips almost against your cheek, “But what?”

D’jaevle runs a finger down the side of your neck, following it with small burning kisses that bring the warmth of your skin to the surface, “What if I were to say the price was to hear your ragged breath while I pushed you over the edge?”

Isolde whimpers, “Ooo…you play hardball”

D’jaevle wraps his other hand around you, pressing you back, so that you feel him along your back, a warm presence. “I know of only one way to play.”

Isolde places her hands over yours, running her fingertips over each of your fingers. She presses her lips to your cheek, then whispers, “Such a naughty boy.”

D’jaevle mmmms, his fingers finding their way under your shirt to press against your bare stomache, fingers spread, “Are you still willing to pay any price…for a kiss?”

Isolde whimpers and nods softly. “You drive a hard bargain…but when the timing is right, I think I might just give in.”

D’jaevle speaks softly, “We shall see, M’lady…” and he turns, one hand on the back of your neck, drawing your head back slightly so that when his lips meet yours, your looking up at him; lips part, you taste a hint of cloves and his mouth moves to yours.

Isolde closes her eyes, the softest moan of relief slips between her lips into yours as our mouths hungrily seal.

D’jaevle shares with you his hunger and burning – tongue along yours, pressing slowly, fingers digging into your lower back, feeling your bare skin. He finally draws back, his eyes finding yours before his fingers slip your shirt up and over your head, revealing more skin for his eyes. You can feel his gaze like a touch as it traces your breasts.

Isolde’s arms slip around you, hands curiously wandering over your sides, up your back, tongue rolling around yours lazily as she shift softly, breasts rubbing against your chest. She takes a deep breath, her chest rising, her bared skin still warm despite the cold outside. A small smile spreads across her lips, “Do you like the new bra?”

D’jaevle brings one hand to your shoulder, drawing it slowly to the side, letting it slip across your skin, “Describe it to me.”

Isolde shudders a bit from your light touches. “Amethyst color…lower half of the cups are smooth satin, the top halves lacy…just can barely make out the top of my nipples…plunges in front…lickable amount of cleavage revealed

D’jaevle speaks, his breath tickling your chest as he lowers his head, “I like…” Moist lips find the edge and begin to trace their way down the inside curve of one breast to the edge of your bra, “likable cleavage…”

Isolde lightly tangles her fingers into the back of your hair, cupping your head as your lips spread their warmth across her silky skin. She breathes slowly, deeply, the curve of her breast rising into your face as she inhales.

D’jaevle runs his fingers along your back, finding the catch and loosening it with deft fingers. His mouth slips lower, tracing each inch as more skin is revealed. Finally he pauses, lips brushing the tip of one nipple, and then circling it…

Isolde sighs softly as your lips greet her plumped nipple, her fingers curling into the back of your head. She slips the strap off her arm, then cups her fingers under her full breast, lifting it into your lips.

D’jaevle accepts it as an offering, lips parting around the edges to suckle slowly, taking his time to tease the tip with gentle but persistent licks, then along the side as his mouth draws it deeper, lips pressed against your silken skin.

Isolde closes her eyes as her head rolls back, savoring the pleasure of your lips on her…relieving her ache. She releases her breast, letting it hang softly under its own weight…her hand slips over your shoulder, rubbing your skin while pulling you in closer.

D’jaevle moves to the other nipple, flicking it lightly with the tip of tongue before nibbling, teeth grazing the edges, hungry.

Isolde’s fingertips press into the back of your head, her nails softly scratching along your scalp. The hand on your back slips back over your shoulder, down the front of your shirt…her thumb finds your nipple and circles it roughly.

D’jaevle pauses, her ministrations drawing a bite sharper then intended as he shivers, then leaves your breast wet as he presses his face momentarily between each breast, lost in your heat and scent.

Isolde draws her shoulders together, her elbows pressing the side swells of her breasts, burying you in vanilla scented cleavage.

D’jaevle gasps, his tongue finding a place against your skin as he licks his way back up your chest to your neck, face buried there as his own fingers press lower, into the back of your thighs.

Isolde swivels her hips, backing into your fingertips, so eager for your touch. She cups the nape of your neck, stroking the skin beneath your hair as she feels your hot breaths on her neck.

D’jaevle curls his fingers along the back of your thighs, lifting you slightly as he pulls you close, thigh wedged between yours, “If I had you in my room right now…”

Isolde closes her thighs against yours, whimpering softly as she discovers how wet she is…sure the dampness might even be detectable to your thigh, “Yes? If you had me in your room right now…what?”

D’jaevle slowly works his thigh even deeper, rubbing rhythmically back and forth, his body hard as he holds you against it, “I would take you. Right here, right now.” He grinds a bit harder, his fingers finding your nipples, rolling them along the tips, “I would fuck you. I would make you suffer pleasure.”

Isolde moans, her whole body tensing at the sound of your words. She rocks over your thigh, her panties soaked through now, wincing at the unexpected effects of your words…softly whispering, “Suffer? How cruel…” Her fingers grasp your hair in the back, gathering and tugging it.

D’jaevle drags fingernails down your breasts, catching nipples harshly as they go. His head lowers to your lips, taking a kiss, and another, “I can be very cruel.””

Isolde growls, voice low and guttural, “Beast.”

D’jaevle pants hard against your neck and then tears himself back, his eyes on yours as he gathers his voice, “And now…I must go…I do hope next time…my price will fit your timing.”

Isolde grins against her will, “Damn you.”

D’jaevle allows himself a small smile, his hardness pressed tight against your thigh through the clothing. “Quite likely, yes.”

Isolde sharply raises her thigh against you, her eyes fixed onto yours. “Sweet Dreams, Beast.”