Anticipation

The Morning After

Hot Summer Nights III

Sweet days of summer, the jasmine's in bloom
July is dressed up and playing her tune
When she comes home from a hard day's work
And you're waiting there, not a care in the world

She sees the smile waiting in the kitchen
Food cooking on a plate for two
She feels the arms reaching out to hold her
In the evening when the day is through

Hot Summer Nights II

Do you remember all the nights we spent in silence
Every single breath you took was mine
We can have it all again
Say that you'll be with me when the sun brings your heart to mine 

And I remember how you loved me
Time was all we had until the day we said goodbye
And I remember every moment
Of those endless summer nights

Hot Summer Nights I

Small town hot summer nights 

Radio 'bout to blow 

Top down under the lights 

Feel the heat, wild and sweet 

Hot summer nights

Off With His Clothes!

The Kiss IV

At the Beach IV

The Kiss #3

Her Favorite Lover

The Long Kiss Goodbye

Update: Fixed the dark smudges in the bottom right of the image, which has been bugging me since I uploaded this image. Mar 12, 2011

I shivered, nestled against her warmth. The chills of spring still clung tenaciously, leaving me cold to the bone. She carried me lightly on one arm, running her free hand through my hair, watching me with those deep blue eyes. I wanted to cry, to scream and beat my small piteous fists against her.

"Take me with you," I whispered. My voice trembled.

—

The older ones always said they would break your heart, these college girls that arrived when the leaves began to wink into yellow and red, warmed themselves among us townie boys through the dark winter, before leaving in the bright spring sunshine. They told us we'd be nothing to them, these young blue-blooded women of privilege. They told us that it would be safer to try and secure the stabler favors of a woman from town. But we were young boys, and naive.

I was no longer as naive as before. I had not been her only boy here of course—she had kept several, and taken many others, no doubt—but of those she kept steady she had treated like gentlemen, unlike the way some of her girlfriends had treated theirs.  Only once had she made me perform a degrading public act at a sorority party, and wiping my tears away the next morning she had made clear that this would not happen again.  I know now, of course, there were other boys for that. But still, among her boys, she had kept me for four years, longer than any other I knew of.

A kept boy of a college girl mistress gets used to the finer things; nicer clothes, better food, a more comfortable life. On the nights I did not spend at the sorority house with her I had a rented room in a house in the nicer part of town, with several boys of other girls. The pocket money she gave me meant I did not need to work at the all-night diner, that I no longer had to dodge the pawing of drunk women, or endure those times when one of the boys would be chosen to crawl on hands and knees beneath the desk of Ms. Tracy the owner, or suffer those walks home all huddled together with the other boys in the frigid morning darkness in sheer terror of any looming shadow over us or the heavy cracks of a woman's footsteps around the corner. Was that what I had to go back to, even if Ms. Tracy would have me?

And of course, there was her. No longer would there be evenings spent on her lap at the dinner table in the sorority dining hall, listening to the rapid conversations of these girls, so sharp and quick, swerving deftly into topics of dizzying intellect or ribald hilarity that would leave us boys in either dumb incomprehension or, among those of us who could keep up with their turns of phrase, blushing hotly, clinging ever tighter to his girl.  No longer would I wait for her, lying naked on her bed, beneath warm luxuriant covers as she studied at her desk, waiting for her to reach over and flick back the downy duvet, watch her looking at me.

No longer would I share her bed, feel her firm and unyielding body wreak its exquisite and rough torture upon my own, thrown about like a helpless leaf in an insatiable roaring hurricane, long into the night.

—

I breathed in her scent, clinging to her. I heard her intake of breath, as if she was breahing in my own. Still she said nothing. And then with a brush of her cheek, she gently pushed my head backwards, and I felt her lips on mine, and I could do nothing else but melt before her.

The Christmas Present

I don't want a lot for Christmas
There's just one thing I need
I don't care about the presents
Underneath the Christmas tree
I just want you for my own
More than you could ever know
Make my wish come true
All I want for Christmas is You.

Wishing everyone a Happy Holidays and your heart's desire.

Threesome Being a Short Digression on Human Biology

As my dear readers may have noticed, it is very common in my world for women to have multiple sexual partners. In fact, this is not only the case among humans, but among most mammals as well as other classes of animals.

The first reason for this is simple biology. The birth ratio on my world is significantly skewed towards the male in that there are approximately five human males born to every female human. Also, women live significantly longer lives than men. Finally, even in your world, the greater the sexual dimorphism of a species, the likelier it is for the physically dominant gender to be polygamous, and that principle also applies in mine.

The extreme sexual dimorphism in my world means that all human societies are female-dominated, and cultural variations never vary in this regard. In the majority of societies in my world, women may take multiple husbands, and in the ones that are monogamous, women usually keep additional lovers in the house in arrangements similar to concubinage or slavery. Furthermore, women are socialized to be sexually adventurous and promiscuous, and having multiple husbands and lovers is considered a badge of prestige. On the other hand, even in recent times, men are still expected to be chaste and demure in matters of sex and other earthly pleasures, and to defer in these matters to the wishes of women. In this context, it is thus easy to see why it is that what is called a threesome in your world is merely a matter of course in mine.

Those Lazy Summer Days

We'd remember them now but for those crazy summer nights.

A Lazy Country Afternoon

Life in a farming or ranching town in my world has some similarities to that in yours. The pace is slower, things are simpler, and there's that faint tang of manure in the air. But you get used to it.

In other regards though, life and the division of labor is quite different.

A lot of light physical labor on farms and ranches are performed by hands, young men who hire themselves out for temporary work for a hot meal, a bunk to doss down in, and a little bit of cash. Much of the heavy and important farm work is done by women, who are usually farm owners or are hired on a more permanent basis, and who usually oversee the hands in their light tasks.

Life for a farm or ranch hand isn't all that easy, the hours are long, and the work unglamorous. Yet there persists a mystique in my world about these boys, healthy from the fresh air, strong — for men — from the physical labor, used to the unadorned life, and to the rough and tumble ways of cowgirls and country women.

In my world, there's also a mystique about country girls too, although not quite analogous to that in yours. I've written before about dalliances between hands and the young woman who stands to inherit the property. For these lucky boys, their days of slop buckets and uncertainty could well see an end, for in these relatively liberal times, even farm boys sometimes get the girl.

At the Beach III

Update: Fixed some glaring errors that I had overlooked but were spotted by the ever-vigilant Undersquid, who gets a virtual hug. May 7, 2009

Update: Fixed some errors in the shadow that BobManDo pointed out in the comments. This may never end. May 17, 2009

Night in the City of Lights

What She Wants

In my world, when it comes to relations between the sexes, the female is the aggressor. Men send signals of availability, and women make the choice of whether they are interested in them or not. Sometimes, women make unwelcome advances, and it is impossible for men, being so much weaker physically, to resist them. Furthermore, the legal and economic framework in my world doesn't make it easy for men to refuse. Men have few legal rights even in relatively progressive cultures here. To press a case, they require a female representative, usually a family member or a wife, in court to represent them, and cases of rape and harassment are civil, not criminal, matters. Furthermore, the court testimony of a male requires the backing of a female.

In other respects, the economic situation of most unmarried men is also quite unstable, and the prospect of having a regular female lover who may provide some financial support, even if she already has husbands, can be quite hard to turn down. For men in my world, choices are sometimes very easy to make, but very hard to live with.

Incidentally, the usage of language in my world is not exactly the same as in yours. Words that exist in your English may have a completely different significance in mine. One such word, in this context, is mistress. In my world, it can be used to describe the usually already-married woman in an extra-marital relationship with a single male, usually much younger than she is. Many words exist in my world to signify the male in such a relationship, many of them diminutive and condescending, such as boy, toyboy, hobby horse and side dish.

In the future, whenever appropriate, I will write more about how languages differ between my world and yours.

Update: Made some small modifications to the text, but not the image. Feb 8, 2009

At the Beach II

Update: Fixed some small errors that I had overlooked. Feb 1, 2009

Ecstasy