The Story of I Ch. 05

After the revelations of the party, I noticed more and more how my hands seemed to have unusual effects on women. A handshake would linger a little longer than necessary. Any kind of touch would create a little shiver, or a big smile. I would often receive comments like 'what warm hands you have!' It was fun to ask a random woman if I could just brush a bug off her shoulder and then watch her reaction as I touched her with my fingers - little electric sparks penetrating the skin and presumably making their way down to her loins. And then, of course, there was dancing. It's surprising how little contact humans have in everyday life. As a graphic designer, I spent much of my life behind a desk. And although I played badminton and tennis, It's very rare that you actually touch your opponents. I'm not sure if my 'gift' had any effect on men, but I shudder to think how life might have turned out if I'd played rugby! But on the dance floor, skin contact is a

As I lay watching her sleep. I thought back over the past hour or so. Did this actually happen, or was I in a very wet dream. I'm brought back to the present as she begins to stir. Her sparkling eyes and sleepy smile greeted me. "Hey there you have a good nap" I said with a smile. As she rolled over on her back she responded "you still here?" Where else would I be? What kind of gentleman would I be to make love and sneak out. Besides we have unfinished business. "Oh we do now" she replied. As I leaned over and we began to kiss. "Exactly" there's a whole side that has not received much attention at all. I began to shower her with kisses. As I gently rubbed her body in an act of worship. As I kissed her neck I could tasted the sweat from the romp we had earlier. I began to lick her neck and suckle her ears one then the other. Feeling her taunt body under my hand I began to track down her body paying close attention to every inch. As I app

The idea enters my head one day while walking along a trail: this would be a perfect place to be completely naked outdoors. I'm not an exhibitionist, I don't want to be seen undressed -- but to risk being seen undressed, well -- that, that is a thrilling feeling. And this is an ideal combination of public and private to take that chance. Walking the well-maintained loop trail, I notice a small beaten path cutting in to the centre, and taking it, I find that it meets up with the main trail again perhaps a half-kilometre later. But partway in there's a clearing, a sunny spot within the forest, and there's evidence of an old campfire, even a few small stumps used as seating -- probably made by kids from the nearby high school. Kids I'd have thought of as, well, "bad" is a social construct and probably unfair, but still, the bad ones, the ones who drank or smoked or had sex, the ones who did all the things I didn't do in high school. I can hear voices so

I first saw her in my local coffee shop, she was serving when I called in for my to-go morning brew. The regular server was a college age guy with a hipster beard and glasses so the greeting from the new staff member was welcome. Her name tag told me her name was Zuri, and I guessed her age as mid- twenties. She was as tall as me and had a model figure, displayed in tight jeans and company T-shirt. Over the next few mornings I chatted with her if there was no queue of customers while my coffee was getting fixed and found out she was a college grad. hoping for a job in the financial sector and filling in at the coffee shop until the right opening came along. Monday of her second week we chatted about our weekend activities and found we'd both been hiking, within 10 miles of each other, but on different trails. I grabbed the chance to suggest we might get together the following weekend and hit the outdoors together. She was hesitant but agreed to let me know her plans by Thursday m

It wasn't the most comfortable spot for viewing, but the cedar tree behind me gave cover. I peered through the window studying them. My wife, Lily, was stirring the Bolognese sauce on the range top with one hand, while balancing a full glass of wine in the other. Smiling in between sips, she repeatedly turned to engage her companion. Quite closely, and also fully attentive, stood Stephen, at right angles to Lily, his butt against the bullnose of the tile counter, with his right hand also holding a wine glass. He was talking, gesturing with his left, and frequently touching Lily on her shoulder, and sometimes on her back. Lily was smiling, obviously enchanted by Stephen's stories. My dog curled at my feet, more interested in listening to the evening sounds than in taking a walk, which was what I was asked to do while they volunteered to slave away in the hot kitchen making the supper. Now I understood what Stephen meant by "hot" kitchen. Their shapes were very similar