The Belt

It was some time before he stopped sobbing. She waited for his weeping to subside, patiently. It was a beautiful morning, with a brisk breeze that rustled the acacias lining her property and rippled across her glittering pool. She could hear clearly the distant crash of waves onto the rocks below the cliffs.

The race the afternoon before had been particularly hard-fought, in tricky gusting winds that followed the morning squall. She and her crew had barely beat their closest rivals, and in the yacht club that evening, seeing as the season was statistically won, she had bought more than a few rounds for them in celebration. The girls were in a particularly boisterous mood, and as the night wore on, they each departed with a squirming serving boy or two in their arms—and in one case, dragging a whimpering boy behind her by his hair to the laughter of the other women in the bar—to the clubs' rooms provided for the members' more private entertainments.

There she was left somewhat alone with this intriguing little thing, many of the other women left in the club bar being similarly entertained. Alan, the head boy, had yet again excelled in his staffing assignments that week, she had mused to herself, as her chosen one ran his soft lips up her thigh.

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.

An Afternoon at the Courts

I'd been down to the basketball courts just once before. My sister Tara plays ball there regularly, but that time I went, just to hang out and see what it's like you know, she was out of town for a state championship game. She's out of town often, see. She plays both basketball and baseball for her school, and this year she's gonna make All-State. She's always going out of town for games. So I went just once, cos I know if she caught me there, she'd belt me so hard I wouldn't be able to sit for a month. I didn't tell any of my brothers either, especially not Doug, cos he'd snitch on me for sure. There's always one in every family.

Timo goes though, pretty regularly. He goes he says, to flirt with the girls. It's a scene there, he says. If you wanna get with girls, he says, that's the best place to go.

European Vacation

Hey! We're in Capri. Got here three nights ago after our flight to Rome. Girl, you were right, these Euro boys are so hot and delicious (and easy!) This is me with Sandro mio bello (haha I'm picking up Italian as I go). He's a waiter at this wine bar we were at on our first night here. When these boys want you to know they're available, they sure don't use subtle signals! He says he wants to quit his job and follow me around Italy, and he wants me to take him back with me to the States.

Allie's found a bello of her own. She just can't keep her hands off of him. Here's a photo of those two when Sandro and I left them alone for only a few minutes! Of course, Sandro and I had a little fun on our walk too. Haha. He's got a tongue that just won't quit so I'm thinking seriously about stuffing him into a suitcase and taking him with us after all.

So our current plan is to stay in Capri until the end of the week, and then head back to the mainland, make our way up to your family's chalet in Tuscany in time to meet you there when you get here. Can't wait till we get to party Euro-style together!

See ya, Roxy

trinket999 here. I'm going on vacation for the next three weeks and I'm not bringing my computer with me so there'll be no updates until I get back. And no, I don't have the good fortune to spend a week in Capri, much less know someone with a chalet in Tuscany.

Stronger

"You're not that strong," I declared loudly.  She didn't say anything, but she was smirking at me.  I put up my fists like a boxer, pulled a head feint like I'd seen on TV, and then threw a couple of jabs at her hip.  The first one hit against solid muscle but the second ran into her hip bone.  "Ow," I said.

"You box like a boy," she said, amused.

The blow to my ego was probably worse than my throbbing knuckles.  I'd thought I'd made a passable impression of a boxer.  I made a sulky face and turned around and yelped as I was suddenly sailing through air as she'd picked me up from behind and tossed me effortlessly onto her large and thankfully very soft bed.  I struggled to stand up among the rumpled bedclothes as she leaped onto the bed next to me and I was thrown violently back again from the force of her landing.

"Still think I'm not that strong?" she asked as she loomed over me, chuckling deeply.  I stood up, and looked up at her, craning my neck to see her eye-to-eye.  In truth, she was very tall and strong for a girl.  I just felt like being contrary.

"Whatever, wimp," I grunted, and threw myself against her body.  She laughed.  She hadn't budged an inch.

"Tell ya what," she said. "I'll give you three tries to push me over, and if you succeed, then I'll... take you to Wonderland this weekend."

I'd been bugging her to take me to the amusement park for weeks. I'd had fantasies of being strapped into her lap on the big rides that we hadn't been allowed to go on when I had gone with my brothers last year. Men are too small for those rides to ride by ourselves. I crossed my arms and looked at her out of the corner of my eyes. "And what if I lose?"

She laughed. "Each time you fail, you have to strip off an item of your clothing."

Without warning, I snarled and threw my whole weight into her. I thought I felt her give but then her abdomen tensed against me and I was shoved back.

"Off with his shirt!" she hollered.

I pulled my shirt off and threw it on the floor beside the bed. She grinned as she cocked her arms and flexed her biceps, showing off. I stepped back and then ran headlong into her stomach. Oof. It was like running into a brick wall.

She cackled triumphantly.

I untied the drawstring of my shorts and peeled them off, panting a little. "Okay," I said, "I give up." I flopped backwards onto the bed. I was out of breath. Also, rubbing up against her had made me a little... hot.

"Then I win by forfeit," she said as she reached down and hooked her large fingers under the waistband of my briefs and pulled them down to my knees. "Looks like my boy likes a big strong woman." She was smiling. Wrapping one hand around my calf, she pulled me, giggling, under her.

That weekend, she took me to Wonderland anyway.

One Fall Afternoon

Update: I'm no longer using the "Continue reading..." links since Blogger allows me to flag the whole blog as adults-only. June 3, 2008

Update: Reuploaded the third image in this series, which I didn't know had a broken link. March 12, 2008.

I guess if you were to ask me what my ideal date would be, it wouldn't be very far from this. A walk in Central Park on a crisp fall afternoon. We approach a lake and I playfully suggest she take me on a boat ride. She paddles us out to the middle of the lake, where she grins and hauls in the paddles, and we proceed to drift. We share stories and laugh, we talk about our mutual friends, the ones that set us up on this date. In a lull, she takes my hands. They feel so small in hers. She leans in and gazes at me with clear blue eyes of hers and I feel my breath slow and stop and I'm at a loss for words. She darts in quickly for a kiss, and, as our lips part, she smiles at me, her eyes twinkling, and I sit there, mouth slightly agape, and she leans in again for a longer, deeper kiss. The only sound is the lapping of ripples against the sides of our boat.

We stop for a warm cup of tea in a café somewhere, a quiet out-of-the-way place away from the big-city hustle-and-bustle. We walk some more, we window shop, we visit an art exhibit. I tell her I'm tired and so we lie down on a bed of autumn leaves. I press my small body against hers and her long arm encircles me. Our fingers touch lightly. She sings quietly to me, a popular ballad, but jokingly, and we laugh. I like the way her laughter hums on my body.

She walks me home in the early evening light, my hand in hers. Our plans didn't include dinner, she has someplace else to be. I start to feel slightly jealous. It's silly I know, on a first date, but I can't help it. We stop outside the door to my small apartment, she leans over to kiss me, as I stammer an invitation for her to come upstairs. I feel unsure, a little shocked at myself. I'm really not that kind of boy. She grins and picks me up lightly in her arms. I barely remember her carrying me inside.


Later, I lie on my bed, watching her, as she pulls on her jeans. "Call me?" I ask her. "Sorry I can't stay longer," she smiles. She easily straddles my small bed between her long legs, leans over, takes my face in one hand, and kisses me deeply. Then I hear her heavy footfalls cross my one-room apartment and the door open and shut, followed by the thuds of a woman's step as she strides down the landing. Exhausted, still breathless from the force of her last kiss, I fall asleep.