The Artisan Tryst

Wow,  what do you think the Artisan has in store for  their lover on Valentine's day?  This is going to be one, hot, romantic interlude! 
Before you jump in to read the conclusion,  click on the page tab up there.  The one on the right - yes, right there.  The page tab for our Valentine's Giveaway!!  Leave a comment stating your favorite Valentine's tale with your email to register then click back over here and maybe have some ice water handy.  Happy Valentine's Day! 

Passion of the Artisan Confectioner (Pt 1)
Of Crystal Glasses and Rich Red Velvet (Pt 2)
Special Deliver:  The Artisan collection  (Pt 3)
The Artisan Visits (Pt 4)
The Artisan Returns (Pt 5)

 

The Artisan Tryst

by

Ben Hannigan

I can feel her breath on mine, feel her warmth as she slumbers next to me. My client, my lover, lies waiting for the day to break in my arms. She is soft, delicate and beautiful. I am the artisan. I flew to meet two people I have known for three long years. And yet, some would say I do not know them at all. All I know is their typing, their use of language and the occasional voice from a video clip.

 

I decided to fly over and turned it into a game, we enjoy games this little trio, our sex life a web of games and playing. Different clothes, different characters, and different places: from schoolyard to the bathroom of a museum. All these places, ages, and times, but all us.

 

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind.  Ever since the start we knew, we knew we were playing with fire.  My darling, the woman asleep in my arms, didn’t know it was me till I let slip in a letter her pet name, the one that I only use in the throes of orgasm. Since then we have been playing a game, both too caught up in this flame to stop.

 

Since the ninth we have been wearing each other out, but also exploring each other in ways that slide outside of the sexual. Watching films together, moving together across the kitchen, gliding around each other like we had done this forever,  each and every thing we did as a couple was punctuated with playful kisses, caresses, and gropes.

 

Then almost all too soon it was the fourteenth. We had a lazy morning tidying and organising the house. A light breakfast in continental style, cooking together our lunch of a simple Waldorf salad and we were ready; ready to begin preparing everything for the night of debauchery ahead.

 

The food prep done and laid out so the cooking could be done in a relaxed rhythm so that the details didn’t distract from the evening.  The wine opened at four thirty to allow it time to breath, I began to dress her slowly, reapplying the creams and serums that would keep her body howling and on edge throughout the evening. The white silk engulfing her thighs, the material warm, sucking her in. The garter pulled tight enough to pinch lightly, tingling. The ribbons trailing as I looped them into the clitoral clamps. The silk teddy slipped on and fastened at the back as I slid her aching nipples into the clamps before running the ribbons down into the clamps and I pulled the ribbons tight, far tighter than my squiggle of cream ever dared. To finish the ensemble, I reached around and pulling her hair up and out of the way.  I attached the purple and black choker that was my gift to her around her gentle throat. The pressure arousing and comforting her as her heart beat faster. My breath on her neck teasing, I then ushered her to her feet. Each movement both agony and ecstasy. Each step she takes, yanks hard on her clit. Each step she takes pulls across her nipples, each step she takes tightens the collar just for a second and I watch her eyes cross in this strange mix of pain and arousal. All the while those creams working hard at driving her to fever pitch

 

As I watched her practicing moving without dropping to the floor in shock at the stimulation, I coughed lightly. It is time to prepare me. We walked together into the room prepared, fortunately we had laid the bed and done all the heavy work before the robing because I couldn’t waste the time, enjoyable though it would have been in retrieving the gibbering puddle of bliss and reforming her into my lover.

 

The silk black sheets luxurious on my skin as I lay down. I was made comfortable, the velvet covered pillow slid under my head, a wonderful contrast. The silk was cool, comforting, sliding across my buttocks and back. It was like water, but the water on the very top of a glass - that delicate semi-skin that is pierced with a touch - this is what was gently engulfing my body beneath me. The pillow, the rich decadent velvet had leached every strip of warmth from the area around it. The feeling on my neck was fire, and yet it was a tame fire that wore it's heat like fur, pulsing with my heartbeat the warm softness of a fresh towel or that soft skin of a kitten unencumbered by the weight of the world.

 

As my mind drifted into whimsy the first of many silken snakes slid across my body, binding though not tightly my breasts. This warmth, this strip of heaven gliding across my skin slowly moving towards its target. The first thing I registered was the feel of this soft slick warmth across my cheek as I was gagged with a delicate bow tied behind my head. All I could taste now with each breath was the sweat from my lovers body.

 

“Oh that evil evil woman” I mumbled through the gag.  Driven to distraction by the scent and taste of my lovers slit pressed against my lips. This taunting tease driving me to madness. Where I expect a throbbing pool of hot wetness, soft like velvet engulfing my tongue, my nose and my efforts evoking screaming, mewling howls and declarations of my place in the pantheon, instead taunted by the taste of her wetness with none of her heat, her softness but none of the enveloping softness pulling me deeper. This I knew was my revenge exacted upon me. Her driving me wild, just as I had her.

 

As I knew this was what was to come, I felt filled; filled by someone I knew not to be there. I knew this by the lack of any sound other than her tuneless musical mumblings, small ditties filling the air with noise, the happiness at her lovers imminent return electric in the air. The toys filling me I recognised from description, from the depths of my imagination and from a promise given to me over the airwaves years ago.

 

She answered the question in the air, “Yes they are exact copies, yes they are accurate as we have been.” I moan into the gag at this feeling, my cunny and my rosebud spread and split wantonly, eagerly, for and by the same man as my lover and the number I became focused on over the years, privately training my body in order to please all of him. Ten inches and for my first time, I blushed hotly as she began the whisper of her actions; chaining, binding the toys together so they slid with each movement I made. She bound my hands to the headboard and taking the choker I had worn for the previous three years bound the ends to the d ring in the centre the ring I hang the property of tag. I am theirs, as they are mine.

The chains like ice on my aroused body, scratching their way gently down my skin as a lover would with their nail. In a twisted mimicry of the ribbons of her camisole the first to a nipple clamp adorning ornamenting each breast, those two then joined with a chain stretching across both peaks, then the clitoral clamp with a chain splitting my breasts, resting down the centre of my body. The constant shifting wriggles of my body now creating soft cold caresses.

 

Standing back to survey her creation she hrmmmed and hummmmed for a while before grinning lightly, then dashed off to her  toy chest. As she got there she collapsed and from the corner of my eye, I saw my lover brought to her knees by the fireball of an orgasm her excited bounce had caused her, the clamps tugged hard taking her already overtaxed body to a level of stimulation she just couldn’t handle. Still totally focused on an order her mistress had given; yes still with me bound, gagged and tied my submissive was mine. She crawled over the box, searching for her target.

 

“Perfect”! she returned to me walking much more gingerly, now stopping only to tie my feet mimicking my arms. Me spreadeagled, rocking onto the toys furiously, her descent into the little depth driving me over the edge of passion.  As I came down, hips still shaking, flicking upwards into the toy I watched her slowly wrapping me like the present I was. The bow perfectly centred on my tummy it crossing both cheeks and shoulders. She stroked my legs slowly, gently setting up the tube of water for me so I was not discomforted by the wait. Setting up the television she clicked play on the remote which lay just out of my reach.

 

“The TV will go off about five minutes before we are ready, that is your warning.”

 

I nod my thanks as best I can, even when dominant, my love is always a gentle caring figure.  About to leave the room, she caresses me with her eyes - a lustful, almost leer over my form as I gasp and plead for more.  More kisses,  more touches,  gods anything! As I rock my hips trying to force the toys deeper, she returns pushing the toys in just half an inch more as I sighed with relief. Giving the chains a playful tug she finally does what she returned for, my eyes not focusing on anything but the TV images, I feel a soft woollen blanket over me as she leans in and gives me a kiss on the cheek, “Rest well my artisan, you will need it I suspect.”

 

The final part of our plan now complete, the surprise gift laid on their bed wrapped in heavy thick velvet drapes. I was warm, even cozy if you ignored the bondage and being kept in a state of arousal with the toys. As the door shut I heard a click and the DVD changed. Far from the Disney adaptation of Robin Hood I was left with my lovers face smiling at me and a warning to relax and enjoy the show.

 

This video was different, very different.  It was my lovers in many positions, places, styles. This wasn’t just cold dispassionate porn, no this was full colour lust. They knew each other so well, they played and fit together so well. I was so honoured to watch such intimate moments. This was porn with cuddling and shared come-downs. This wasn’t faked. This was love  -  deep, deep, love.  So deep that none of us ever forgot our burning love for each other. This was a torture but it was torture in that it was the extremes of desire, love and passion and the knowledge that soon, I would be joining with them. As I was coming, I kept thinking I need them to come soon.

 

I registered the aroused gasping moans of happy luxury as my lover slipped into my mink coat, lovingly passed down from my grandmother to “be shared with those you love, dressing well flatters them and gives them you in your best. Also," the old woman who long had been the black sheep of the family whispering, “being devoured whilst lying on fur is divine. The contrast between the fur and the heat is breathtaking.” A statement I have tested and thoroughly agree with. The passion, the burning sensation, the burning pure animal desire as you sink into the loving embrace of the coat.

 

I heard a key slide into the lock as I watched my lovers share that moment that is better than anything else on earth as two become one mind, one body and I joined them. Them on screen, me in the bed they were convulsing in. My body limp and my mind hazy as I heard his shocked “Wow, Lucy! Gods you look amazing.” before I knew from the thump he was pinned, pressed against the door. Soon my time would come, soon our Valentine's game will be complete. I drifted off,;warm happy desired, content. Waiting like a lazy cat curled up on the bed, my heart racing, waiting for their meal to end and for their sampling of the dessert.

Forbidden Crush part 4

How  will Jamie feel after his betrayal? Will he lose his job?  Come find out and don't forget to  click above to  enter  our first Valentines contest! Now lets check on Jamie and Darren! 

 

Forbidden Crush, Part 4

 

by Samantha Kay

Darren leant back against the wall opposite the door to Jamie’s office. His foot tapping restlessly on the floor, his eyes feeling dry and sore.
Why did Jamie turn like that last night?
He must be in denial about being gay –but it all seemed to flow so naturally to him? There was no hesitation -or did I just not notice it?

 “What are you doing here?”

Darren stood to attention as he saw Jamie at the office door giving him a hard stare.
Fuck you still look beautiful…

 “I needed to give you your keys.” Darren stuttered, as he held them up to show him. “I locked up after you left last night.”
Why did you run off last night?
Please don’t tell me you regret what happened, please tell me it meant something…

Jamie, who had dark circles under his eyes and a hand resting on his stomach, slowly walked up to Darren.

 “I’m sorry for last night.” Jamie stifled out through his tight, dry throat. “It shouldn’t have happened. I don’t know why it did, but I’d rather we didn’t discuss it again.” I can’t stop thinking about last night Darren. But how can I feel like this about a man? How did I give in to you so easily?

 “Ok.” Darren nodded, noticing the usual shine in Jamie’s eyes had dulled. “But can I speak to you privately in your office for a moment?”
I’m not giving up that easily.

Jamie’s eyes widened and his mouth fell open slightly.
“Oh. Ok. Sure.” What does he want?

Jamie turned around to unlock the door and motioned for Darren to go ahead.

As soon as Jamie shut the door Darren’s heart jumped.
Just ask him. Do it. “Last night.” Darren’s voice was shaky, stripped of its usual composure. “I know it meant something to you.”

Jamie shook his head before glancing down at his feet, his hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“Look, I know you’re not ready to come out or anything, but –“
“I’m not gay Darren!” Jamie exclaimed, jerking his head up to stare at Darren. “What happened was a mistake, it was nothing. Nothing.”

“Who are you trying to convince?” Darren chortled. “You loved what I was doing to you last night –you were even calling my name for fucks sake.”
Jamie diverted his gaze as his cheeks reddened.
“Leave me alone Darren.” He mumbled, before going over to his desk and throwing his cigarettes, lighter and mobile onto it. He let out a loud sigh as he roughly scraped his fingers through his hair.

“Sorry Jamie.” Darren said with a softened tone.
He slowly came up behind Jamie. He gently placed his hands on Jamie’s shoulders as he spoke quietly in his ear. “I get that this is a lot to deal with.”
Jamie’s body tensed before spinning around, forcing Darren to take a step back.
“No Darren, I know what you’re trying to do!” Jamie’s lips were revealing the straight sharp teeth beneath them, and his hands had curled into fists. “Just piss off ok, leave me the fuck alone! I don’t need this shit.”

“Why do you keep turning like this?” Darren spat back, his eyes narrowing. “How long do you think you can keep this up for eh? Even if I leave you alone, you’ll soon find yourself here with someone else, so why not stop dragging out the inevitable?”

Jamie charged past Darren before swinging the office door open.
“Thank you for your time Darren, but I have a lot to do this morning.” His tone tight and cocky.

Darren stared at Jamie for a few moments, allowing the tension in his limbs to ease a little.
He shook his head before leaving the room, jumping as the door was slammed shut behind him.
 What the fuck? Why is he being such a prick about this?

~*~

Jamie backed up into the door, his head falling into his hands as he burst into tears.

What the fuck have I gotten myself into?
I cheated on Laurie –I fucking cheated! How could I do this to her?
And with a man!
Why am I so drawn to him? Why can’t I just dismiss this, like the last time?Jamie rubbed his face of any moisture, and rushed over to his desk to grab his cigs and lighter.
I need to get a fucking grip.
Last night meant nothing. It was nothing. I just need to push it out of my mind and focus on getting me and Laurie back on track.
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~*~

Darren stormed back to his office.
“Fuck!” He groaned, as he kicked the little plastic bin beside his desk.
Why can’t he just admit last night meant something to him? He clearly wanted me; he never said no, never told me to stop.Darren sat down, thumping the top of his desk as he did so.
Geez, why am I so wound up by this?
I barely know the guy!
Fuck working with him on that project.  I can’t be doing with this grief either.

~*~Jamie sat sombrely at his desk, his head in his hands as he sighed to himself.
I need to go talk to Darren. I can’t leave things like this.
It’s 4 o ‘clock and he still hasn’t come to see me –not even to discuss the project we’re supposed to be doing together.Jamie’s eyes were sore, and he couldn’t shake off the jittery feeling in his legs.
He was sure he could still smell Darren’s cologne in the air; inhaling deeply whenever the scent caught his nose.
He checked his mobile, his stomach stirring painfully when he saw he had a text from Laurie.
‘Hey, sorry for this morning babe. I’ll make it up to you. Love you loads xxx’He swallowed hard, trying to rid the lump in his throat as he put his phone in his pocket.
Jamie didn’t want to go home, he couldn’t face Laurie. The idea of putting up a false façade, to hide the pain of missing Darren, made him feel sick and breathless.
Fuck it, I’m gonna work late. Jamie picked up his work phone off the desk.
Despite his arms becoming prickly with sweat, and his mouth feeling dry and tight, he dialled the number for Darren’s office.

“Yep.” Darren answered the phone bluntly, throwing Jamie off guard.

“Oh. Hi. Sorry. It’s me, Jamie.”

“I know.” Darren continued in his sharp tone. “Your number showed up.”

Jamie’s cheeks were burning, his forehead now feeling tickly with sweat.

“Sorry. I d-didn’t think.”

“What did you want?”

“Erm. I’m just staying late. Again. To work on the delegations. Was wondering if you wanted to, well, join me?” Jamie said quietly.
Please, I need to see you…

His heart sank when he heard Darren sigh.

“Sorry. It doesn’t matter.” Jamie’s voice beginning to crack. “I can manage it alone –“

“No it’s fine.” Darren cut in. “I’ll come at 5, is that alright?”

Jamie’s heart jumped into his throat.
“Erm, yeah, that’d be great!”

“Ok. See you then.” Darren then quickly hung up, sending doubts into Jamie’s mind.

Does he actually want to see me? Or does he just want to get on with our project?Jamie quickly got to his feet, stumbling as he caught his ankle underneath the chair. He darted out the room and into the toilets.

He wet his fingers under the tap before brushing them through his hair; attempting to freshen it up and make it look like he’d made an effort with it.
He then washed his face with cold water; hoping the refreshing splash of it against his skin would diminish the dark bags under his eyes from the lack of sleep.
Studying himself in the mirror, Jamie then unfastened the first few buttons of his shirt to reveal a bit of his chest.
“That’ll do.” He said as he exhaled deeply, before hurrying back to his office.

As Jamie sat down, tapping his fingernails impatiently on the desk, he couldn’t stop reliving last night. The feel of Darren’s hands on his body, the kissing, and the soft murmuring in his ear.
I need to feel that again, no-one’s made me feel that good before…


To be continued…
 

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All I Want... Chapter Three

Time to catch up with Teri!
Who will she end up spending Valentines with? Her Husband Jerry? Or the young and sexy Jimmy..?
Also, check above for our Valentines Giveaway Contest You could win an awesome prize while enjoying your favorite stories from Storytime Trysts! But you must leave a comment!


Chapter Three

The Grandkids and I had fun Saturday baking and decorating Valentines cookies. I chose a couple cute ones to put in the box for Jimmy. The rest of the week seemed to drag on. I tried to chicken out a couple times. I think I would have if I had his number. What’s the harm in a simple coffee with a new friend? A very cute, sexy, and young friend.

I went into the Bakery early Wednesday and got the Valentines orders all done up and made plenty of extras. I’m glad we aren’t taking any new orders. I did make some extra cupcakes and heart shaped cakes so there would be plenty for last minute shoppers. I will come in early tomorrow and refill these.

I go home at noon and start preparing for tomorrow. I retouch my hair-color, do a facial and my nails. I feel like a teenager again going on her first date.

   Tossing and turning I finally get up at 3 am and get dressed. I will have to meet Jimmy straight from the bakery so I roll my hair and put on my makeup. I put on tight-fitting jeans and a nice form fitting red sweater with a low -but not too-low- neckline. I don’t want to seem forward, or give him the wrong impression. Exactly what impression am I trying to make? What do I want from this young man?
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My stomach in knots I touch up my makeup and hair before leaving the bakery. I think about going home and hiding all the way to the Coffee shop. He probably won’t be there, he was just flirting.

I walk inside and my heart flips as I see him sitting at a table close to the door. He smiles and joins me.

“Hi. I was afraid you weren’t going to show.”

His smile is so sweet and sexy my heart melts. His big chocolate brown eyes warm me in places a married woman shouldn’t be warming with another man. Especially one in his early twenties.

“I saved us a table in the back is that alright?” He motions to a table not visible from the road, or door for that matter.

All I can do is nod.

“What would you like?” He takes my arm and guides me to the counter.

I order a skinny caramel mocha with sugar-free raspberry. He orders a caramel mocha with an extra shot of espresso. He takes both cups and I follow him like a puppy to the table. My mind races, trying to tell me to run for the door. I hand him the box of cookies and assorted brownies I made for him. His eyes light up like a little kid on Christmas morning. He opens the box and smiles brightly.

“Mmm! Mmm! Mmmm! This raspberry brownie is to die for! You’ve really outdone yourself!” He reaches down on the floor beside him and pulls up a cute package wrapped in pretty sheer pink cellophane, tied with a beautiful hot pink bow tiny red hearts all over it. I open it up –it’s an adorable coffee mug with a frog holding a small heart-shaped box of chocolates.

I feel my face heat up. I haven’t gotten a valentines gift in years. Jerry and I stopped getting each other gifts when our daughter was two. We spent the money on her stuffed animals and pretty fancy dresses. Maybe, if we were lucky enough that she went to bed early, we would have a quick valentines roll in the hay. That stopped a few years ago too.

“You shouldn’t have.” I slide the gift slightly back towards him as if it might bite me. The disappointment on his face makes my heart ache so I take the gift and smile sweetly.

“Thank you. It’s really cute. How did you know I collected frogs and holiday mugs?”

“I follow your Pinterest boards and saw it on Face-book.” This time it was his face warming.

Dam he looks so sexy blushing. I bet he would look so good with his face heating after a good make-out session.
Why am I even thinking this?

Talking with Jimmy was easy. We chatted so much after the first few awkward moments that lunch slipped up on us. He offered to buy lunch and I haven’t a clue what got into me accepting. We both had the soup of the day and resumed our conversation well into the afternoon.
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My phone rang. It was my daughter wishing me a happy Valentine’s day and the grandkids got on to wish me one also. I realized then it was after school-time and I needed to get home. Hopefully when Jerry gets home he will want to take me out for Valentines. Wishful thinking girl! Whens the last time he even noticed it was Valentines at all?

“I didn’t realize how late it was getting. I better head home.” The reluctance to leave sounded in my voice.

“Thanks for meeting me and for the awesome cookies. How about we exchange numbers and email addies?” He smiles shyly and quickly says we should do this again sometime. I smiled back and accepted. What the heck am I thinking?

*************

I get home less than an hour before it’s time for Jerry to get there, so I run the vacuum and light some nice tangerine and lavender candles. I retouch my hair and makeup and slip into a pretty pink floral shirt-dress.

“What you all dressed up for? Been on a hot date?” He doesn’t even bother to kiss me as he tosses his briefcase and jacket on the table.

“What’s for dinner?” He kicks off his shoes in the middle of the dining room floor and heads into the bedroom.

He comes back out in a pair of sweats and sweatshirt. I guess it’s clear we aren’t going out.

“I sort of thought we may go out tonight since its Valentines.”

“You know how crowded everything is. Let’s stay in, we always do. I’m sure you have something in there you can throw together.” He hands me a small envelope and plops in his chair, turning the TV on to some reruns of a storage auction show.

“You thought I totally forgot its Valentines. I knew you’d expect something even though we already agreed to not do anything a couple weeks ago.” He chuckles like he is really proud of himself.

I open the envelope and it is a gift card for a mani-pedi at a local salon. Not even a card.

“There’s lunch-meat in the fridge. Make your own dinner.” I huff as I go into the bedroom, change into my pajamas and head back into the guest room with my phone and kindle. No. MY room now.

The doorknob rattles as he tries to open the door.

“I’m gonna order pizza want anything while I am ordering?”

“Screw you!” I yell through the door.

“You really need to go see the doctor about those hormones you’re really being a bitch lately.”

The shoe I throw ricochets off the door with a loud Kathunk. I pick up my phone and send Jimmy a text before I even realize what I have done.
‘Thanks for the candy. It’s my favorite. Had a gr8 time today. Maybe next week?’ Well he is probably out on a date with his sweetheart tonight anyways so it doesn’t matter.

I pick up my kindle and the phone buzzes as I lay it on the bed.

‘Glad ya liked it, it’s my favorite too. Why wait till next week? 2morrow?’

‘U not on a d8’

‘Nah. Been single a while’

‘A guy as handsome as u should be beating girls off with a stick’

‘LOL None that I’d go out with. I like more mature women.’

I just sit there wiping the tears from my cheeks. Now I’m smiling profusely. Maybe Jerry is right and its hormones? How can I go from screaming and throwing things one minute then smiling and laughing the next? What am I doing chatting with this man? The phone buzzes again startling me from my reverie.

‘U still there? U didn’t answer about 2morrow.’

‘U not working?’

‘Evening shift. Off till 2’

I sit thinking. Should I really pursue this? I hear the doorbell ring. Jerry answers it. I hear the fridge open and a can top pop, and the TV resumes loudly. The smell of pepperoni pizza fills the air. My stomach growls but I refuse to be near him. Besides dropping a pound or two won’t hurt.

‘Can’t talk?’

‘Sorry thinking.’

‘I’m off Saturday. Do something then?’

‘Yes’

We made plans to meet Saturday at the casino parking lot and take my car across the river into the next town.
We texted till close to midnight, when I decided I better get some sleep. I have to be at the bakery early, since today was Valentines we will be out of everything.

After a quick shower I fell asleep and dreamed of a very sexy young man with the prettiest brown eyes I have ever seen doing some pretty hot things to me. But not nearly as hot as the things I did to him…

If you missed the beginning of Terr's story  you can find post one here
Chapter 2 is here.
come back next week for  chapter 4 and a shock.
How do you like Terr's story? Can you relate to her? Do you feel stuck in an old relationship and taken for granted? I'd love to hear your thoughts!

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Champagne and Chocolate

for news on the Tantalizing tryst giveaway go to tab above that says TT Valentine's Giveaway and register now!!!

Champagne & Chocolate

by

Cathy Brockman

Choking back tears and trying to look stoic, Sandy gently pushes back her plate.

“I’m really sorry Sandy. Can we still be friends?” That’s what they all say after pulling the rug out from under you isn’t it?"

“Sure David. That is if your wife doesn’t mind.” She didn’t bother to try to hide the venom in her voice.

“I’ve tried to tell you a few times, but I just didn’t want to lose you.” He takes another sip of his wine and motions to the waitress for his check.

OH! I just bet he did. More like didn’t want to lose a sure roll in the sack whenever he was staying in town.

“Besides we aren’t officially married. I would still like to see you sometimes when I’m in town.” He looked up and smiled hopefully.

Oh! My! Gosh! What a jerk! He just tells me he has been living with a woman he plans to marry and still wants me to agree to a romp at his whim? Does he think I am that desperate or that head over heels for him?  Sandy clenches her fists, trying to keep her composure. She is determined she won’t let him have the privilege of seeing how much he has hurt her. “That’s never gonna happen David! Take back your valentine gift and just get out of my life.” She draws in a deep breath and grits her teeth.

“Ah babe! We have history, fantastic sex, you’re special to me.” He puts some bills into the leather case the waitress has left and stands.

“If you touch me I promise I will knock your lying teeth out.” So much for keeping her cool.

David turns to leave telling the waitress to keep the change.

Sandy notices he took the bracelet box but left the big box of expensive chocolates. She smiles. At least I have something to indulge myself with.  This is better than a whole gallon of chocolate peanut butter ice-cream.

She picks up the box, pulls on her coat, takes a deep breath to center herself and bravely walks out of the restaurant. The chill of the February air cuts through her like ice. She heads towards her car thanking heavens she drove to meet him here.

The urge to cry was so stifling she decided to sit on one of the park benches nearby, overlooking the river and wallow in her sorrow before going home to face her roommate with the news. They were so sure they would both be getting engagement rings today.


*                       *                         *                     *                        *                           *                          *


Jason Scott couldn’t believe his luck. His girlfriend Renee had called and cancelled out on him for Valentine’s Day. They hadn’t been dating long and she said she wasn’t ready for a ‘real’ relationship. He decided since he had the reservations and was hungry why not indulge himself with a good dinner.

The evening seemed to be full of surprises. He about fell out of his chair, when he saw Sandy walk in the door. Damn! She looks extra hot, in that form fitting, low cut, red dress and killer black heels.
He couldn’t help but wonder why the heck he ever let her go so many years ago. He always knew she was the one for him, but he was young and impetuous and wanted to be free in college to sow his wild oats.

Of course no one could hold a candle to Sandy.  When he moved back he was surprised to find she wasn’t married but dating that jerk David.

He wasn’t sitting close enough to hear everything going on but he could see that she didn’t look too happy. He felt bad that his heart was pounding with joy when she raised her voice loud enough that he could tell it was over.

He orders a bottle of champagne and sweet talks the Bartender into selling him two champagne glasses. He gave her time to get of the door hoping to be able to follow her home. As he steps out the door he sees her head to the park bench by the river.

“Mind if I join you?”

Looking up to see Jason standing there looking beyond handsome, dressed to the nines, Sandy tries to regain her composure. “What are you doing here Jace? Shouldn’t you be out on that hot date you were bragging about at the office?” She swallows hard and shudders when he reaches over and tenderly brushes away a tear with one thumb.

“It seems we are either having the same streak of bad luck or perhaps destiny just raised her pretty head at us.” He sat close beside her before pulling her into a tight embrace.

His voice was soft and comforting, the smell of his aftershave enticing, his sensuous lips tempting.
“Looks like you have some fine chocolate; I have a bottle of champagne. What do you say we toast?

“To what? The ones that got away”

“No. To second chances.”

The Artisan Returns

Wow, things were steamy last week. Are you anxious to find out who this artisan is?  I'm getting anxious .  Well sit back with your champagne and chocolates and lets find out.

The Artisan Returns

by

Ben Hannigan

Again, you were at home: ill, bleary-eyed, coughing, and feeling like death.  Your body dripping with sweat, dizzy spells and long, harsh ,wracking coughs shaking you to your very core. Curled up on the sofa, remote within your reach, drinks next to you, your lover had carried you into the living room so you could get the phone, read and do some work. Three days in and you were going out of your mind.

You knew you were due the next delivery but as aroused as they made you, you were, at this point too ill to care. The last delivery still a delicious memory that haunted your dreams and kept you warm on the days that your partner did the night on-call shift. You laid in that double bed alone, the silk sheets cold and rather than the reassuring thump thump of your partner's heart beat and his low rumbling purr of a snore, there was silence. Eleven thirty five in the morning and you were bored. The repeating daytime televison, the groups of people having screaming arguments about who shagged who, who puked in whose shoes and which of the fat ones had sucked the most family cock grating on you. Trisha, Kyle, Springer: all shows showing the worst the world had to offer.

Then, there was the sound of the buzzer.  You sigh, pushing the duvet off your body, feeling the cold air rushing across your bare thighs before you hear the familiar sound of a key slid into the lock, you relax and sit. A woman comes in. You recognise her, but in your medicated state, drowsy and tired you don’t get the name out before she reaches you. Her mouth on yours; hot, wet ,kissing you deeply. Her tongue silky, soft, and pulsing as she explores you. She lifts you into her arms; she’s toned, strong, and able to carry you up the stairs. You don’t know where you are being taken but you know that protesting will stop the hot searing kisses.

The bathroom: you're set down, the tiles cold on your bare feet.  She's treating you like a child, but yet not, as her kisses are not the type a parent gives. The shower heating up, the noise like heavy rain against a window pane as you are nudged into lifting your arms.  Stripping you, it is soft and gentle like a mother to her child but again, the frank appreciation of your form isn’t. The way that tongue for a split second swirls over your nipple, her breath hot, sending shivers down your spine. You wriggling as she suckles, the movement releasing your pajama bottoms. You realise now from the kiss that she is the visitor from before which means you know who the artisan is but you don’t want to cry out the name, don’t want to ruin the game.

Shes slowly sliding your panties down your legs now, you’re suddenly embarrassed your legs aren’t shaved, your thatch certainly isn’t either. Hell you didn’t shower this morning, too ill to stand. Her tongue nevertheless trailing down into your box, that warm breath tracing a line from nipple to nipple, to belly button, to slit, 'till finally, with an air of inevitable sensual teasing, she arrives at your clit, engulfing you, consuming you, completely sucking you in between those impossibly ruby lips. You feel yourself being used as a lollipop, being devoured and melting like that ice lolly as she consumes you. Each swirling motion sending shudders down your spine as she reaches your centre.

Suddenly, rather than wool and heavy cotton rubbing against your bare skin, you feel the rough teasing scratch of lace. Looking down she has slipped off the uniform shirt; the nurse's uniform the ruse used to borrow the key from security to enter the flat. The bottom half too had changed. Rather than the feel of her capris, a semi soft polyester that carried only the slightest hint they were ensconcing the warm flesh of her legs, you felt the heat radiating from her skin, your cold skin almost draining her, leeching the heat from her. She moves, pressing closer as she licks back up, the tongue rough but not scratching. It’s a really hot really damp caress sliding up your bottom. You’re seeing stars as she hits your rosebud. Moving up your back with nibbles and nips across your sides and anywhere else she chooses to bite she ends up at your throat. Sucking hard, fast, rough, marking you, she feels like a nightshade, draining you with this warming orgasmic pleasure erupting from the artery she is suckling. You can feel the velvet of her underwear, the warmth of her skin, her nipples, feather light brushing your back as she moves.

She is still feeding, still sucking, though hasn’t drawn blood as she moves, spinning around you, the soft velvet grinding against your wet centre, her nipples on yours. Both hard like nibs of frozen chocolate, solid but with a creamy feel. The velvet slowly dragging down your legs as you remain tangled, the stinging pressure of her hand fisted in your hair and her finger on your nipples as your cunts meet. The wetness spreading as you feel the contrast between her aching hot body and the icy coolness of the tiled wall on your bottom.

You’re moved again into the shower, pinned against a new set of tiles as she revives her assault; the tiles behind your back warm from the shower and slick with the condensation. You aren’t sticking to them this time. Her feel changes too. Rather than the soft  feel of her skin almost sticking with the sweat its now simply gliding over your body as she touches you. The soap in her hands being worked into a lather on your body; her hands covered with this sweet scented foam which is being worked into every crevice of your body. As you look down your body is disappearing behind a layer of this white honey scented lather; her hands caressing your breasts and stroking, pulling massaging as she covers your body, her mouth still sucking at your throat. Your front done she works the soap suds into your slit grinding, rubbing, fast and hard, she pulls you into her arms your slick body slides over hers as she washes your back; massaging, teasing, not hard but not so soft you miss each movement. Going lower, her hands grip your ass and rub the soap into you. She runs her finger up and down your crease pressing deeply rubbing at your rosebud. The fingers slick with the soap slide in your body not resisting. As you feel her touch all you can here are your own howling moans, its like your detached from the experience as two fingers attack your arse as she works her other hands fingers into your wet slit.

As you fall limp against the wall breathing heavily she moves the shower head, the pounding pressure of this jet of water on your nipples driving you to whimpering for more, for anything. She obliges stretching your cheeks exposing your wet eager rosebud to this pounding water. It sending shivers through your skin, the hot blasting jet moving to your wet cunny and pounding you The pressure on your clit is so intense you're screaming, begging for more, more kisses, more touches, more everything. 

As she begins to card your hair you relax into her in the post orgasm bliss, just focusing on those hands running through your hair and smiling.

You are led out of the shower and wrapped into her embrace your tingling clean bodies touching before she towels you down. The towel is definitely not yours, the soft Egyptian cotton wrapping you in warmth, it's hot, been on the rack and she’s is taunting you with it, teasing you, the towel stimulating you again, the delicious contrast between her rough twists of your nipples and the soft warmth of the cotton that she is gripping through. Working you faster, rougher, harder as you moan into her mouth. You're dried, spoiled and pampered collapsing into her arms and then pulled down to the sofa again stopping only to grab a hairbrush and clean pjs.

Melting as she brushes your hair, you’re purring. she’s brushing you, drying the hair that reaching down just touching the top of your bottom. She's done with the brush now and she places it somewhere secure within reach. As she is carding the comb through your hair you feel the brush slipping into your wet cunny. Gasping moaning into her embrace as she combs your hair. The feel of the brush she is masturbating you with taking you back to your teenage years. Those nights laid on that single bed looking up to the ceiling to the posters of rock bands, into those staring eyes as you brought yourself to climax with that brush. This time though it isn’t harsh, isn’t frenzied, it is gentle, slow, she’s spinning and rolling the brush and holding you close, your content yet primed to explode, your toes curled in the duvet as you again begin to scream. You want to scream the name you know but you mustn’t spoil the game. The comb finished with and forgotten her hand grips, tweaking your clit gently as she brings you to that precipice that you have visited so many times today. The toy is removed and you hear a voice whisper “Come for me, Now.”

With how primed you are, with where you are, you can't do anything. But as you explode all you can focus on is that tongue snaking across your ear, your moaning, shaking, screaming as pulse after pulse wracks your body with spasms. Finally succumbing to exhaustion you pass out in her arms with her caresses comforting you. When you wake you are dressed and curled into her. You try to ask why but your voice doesn’t work. Laughing, she replies to these unasked questions.

“I am the artisan yes, I have been organising this for the man we both love, arranging this, I found you the company, the company is what I do, I organise gifts, parties, deliveries, however this one, this project had a much more personal touch, I have fallen for you as much as I have him, you know that. I want you and him and I decided impulsively to fly to see him and you as the crescendo to this evening. The outfit I have a match to it, after you give him the chocolate, the wine, the meal and show him the outfit that is gonna be hidden under your fur coat, you will lead him to the bedroom where he will find me bound to the bed by ribbons, his final present the two of us to unwrap.”

You blush and giggle kissing the lover you know so well; have made come and been given orgasms by but have never until these past few days touched or even seen. She flew to you for this game, she’s staring at you hoping you don’t hate her and you nod blushing. You find yourself speaking, voice sore from screaming, “He doesn’t get back from work till the fourteenth, he won't know what hit him. Till then, my own artisan.” You kiss her hard, fast, rough, tugging at her bottom lip with your lips a wicked shiver through your body as you hear and feel her desire. “It’s the ninth today and I am off work sick so you have me all to yourself till then.” Sliding your hand onto her mound she mimics you, losing yourselves in each other, in skin on skin, in pure naked desire, lust and love. Making up for lost time, not virgins to each other. Oh no, you know each other well from your time online, but this is more intense, more vivid, like the jump from black and white to pure glorious IMAX in one fell swoop.

All I want is....

Chapter 2

Another day in Dulldrum

Somewhere in the night while reading yet another hot, erotic, romantic fantasy I finally gave up and dozed off.
Vague fragments of a hot dream of me with a tall dark stranger, silk sheets, passionate kisses, moans and groans become a faint memory as I get up and flick on the coffee maker.

Grabbing my pen and pad to make my daily to-do list, I flip open the laptop and fire it up.

First on the list… emails, limit myself to thirty minutes and stay off Facebook.  There are notifications in the emails; it is part of clearing emails. Yeah right.

Number two on list.  Daily chores *priority*.

I chuckle and take a sip of my coffee, mmm Gevalia chocolate, with sugar- free raspberry syrup and French vanilla liquid creamer.  I pull up my Pandora Radio channel, select my Pain channel, turn up the volume and continue clicking off the emails that I definitely won’t read. I sort the rest into lists; recipes, blogs, Facebook, contests for publishers sights, etc. Sort of a to-do list inside the to-do list. 

My timer beeps. That was a fast half hour. I swig down the now cooled coffee and fix me another cup.

Number three on the list. Drink my eight cups of water and do my thirty minutes on the treadmill.

I smile thinking of another half hour engrossed in a hot romance. But that will have to come after the housework and -

Number four… make a list of the Valentine candy, cookies and stuff I have orders for and make a shopping list.

Number five… go to the store and get the ingredients, make out the monthly bills, and get a couple gifts for the two grand-kids with birthdays this month.

I tear off this sheet and start tomorrow’s list; after daily chores, wrap gifts, call the daughter and arrange for the kids to come tomorrow and make valentine cookies.

Number Six. Write up tomorrow’s to-do list and add the cookie decorating party to Saturday’s.

I highlight number six off and do number one, mark it off, then start a chicken veggie soup in crock-pot for dinner and start a loaf of whole grain Parmesan herb bread in the bread maker. 
Putting my hands together I say thank you for the convenience of great time-saving appliance and the ability to multi-task.

I change into a pair of jeans that are now are a bit loose, but skim my curvy thighs and hips. Yeah! No more muffin top! I appraise myself as I add a firm-fitting, low-cut soft leopard-print sweater, that shows quite a bit of cleavage and if I move just right, a peek of black lace from my sexy black push-up bra. I add a pretty pink lip stain and gloss to my makeup and smile. Not so bad for a woman pushing fifty.

 I grab my shopping lists, a bottle of water, and head to the store.

The shops weren't too busy even for a Friday, so I managed to complete my lists quickly.  Even the checkout lanes at the supermarket were slow.

A very good looking young man slipped up beside me and started meticulously bagging my groceries, separating the bagged stuff from the boxes as if he had sacked my groceries many times.

“Hi Ms. Meredith.” He grins shyly, his eyes lingering on my cleavage.

 I lean slightly forward and smile mischievously; glancing at his name-tag while picking up the current issue of Cosmo.

He raises his eyebrows and looks over at me, his big brown eyes warming with desire.

“Looks like you’re making cookies.” He gazes a bit at the cover of the Cosmo and licks his lower lip, as he quickly slips it into the bag with the chocolate chips, sprinkles and assorted colored frosting.

“Yeah, I love making cookies and cupcakes at the holidays.”  I try not to be obvious as I give him a quick once over.

He isn't but a few inches taller than my five four. A little slimmer than I prefer my men, but his strong masculine face with his well-groomed beard shadowing his handsome features, I’d rate him a high eight, even if he looks to be in his mid-twenties.

“Mom used to make them every holiday too.  I think that’s one thing I miss the most about the holidays.” His soft low voice sounding so wistful.

“Used to?” My eyes seem to stay glued to his firm backside, packed nice and tightly into a pair of well-fitting Levis as we walk to my car. Get a grip girlfriend! He’s just a kid!

“She died two years ago with cancer.”

“I’m so sorry. Would you like a batch?”

“I’d really love some, but I don’t want to put you out.”

“Trust me I make plenty extras. Do you work Thursday?  I can bring you some then.”

“No, but how about I meet you someplace? Maybe Starbucks?” He smiles shyly again.

Damn! Did he just ask me out?

“Sure, that would be fine. How about ten o clock?”

“That’s great! I’ll buy ya a cup of coffee and maybe a muffin or something in return. I hope you don’t get upset if I tell you this, but you sure look hot today.” He dips his head shyly as he finishes unloading my buggy.

“No, why would I get upset over such a sweet compliment, Jimmy.” I blush and pull out a couple dollars for a tip.

 He thanks me for the tip and winks as he turns to go back to work.

My mind races as I drive home. Did I just accept a date with a man half my age?

If you missed the first chapter you can find it here.
 Have you ever felt like you were just existing   Has someone all of a sudden given you hope or made you feel like you mattered?  we love to hear  what you think!

The Artisan Visits

Wow, The Artisan is at it again.  I don't know about you, but Ben Hannigan's flair for the eroticsends shivers down my spine.  Let's see what he's up to this week.

Don't forget to enter our contest!

The Artisan Visits

by

Ben Hannigan

Instead of the package that usually awaits you, there was a simple letter.  The contents were an order phrased as a request. It held a time and a place to wait, so that how and why you found yourself at eight PM sat in the leather chair you love so much,  curled up. Not in anything sexy, but in your favourite pyjama bottoms and your lover’s hoody. You spend the time racking your brains trying to work out if at any point during your conversations with the artisan you had told them you were ill.

Never the less they knew, hence you were told to curl up in the chair you loved so much; the chair that your partner would curl up in and read to you with you in their lap. Waiting comfortably, not really knowing what you were waiting for and feeling slightly foolish when staring down at the socks your dad had bought you for Christmas. The ones with the eyes and nose of a fox on them, that allowed you to “nom” your partner’s feet when you laid in bed.

Over time you felt the combination of the doctor ordered medication and the hot toddy your lover ordered mingling and making you drowsy, comfortable, and safe, you drift off. When you wake, you wake in the chair, waking only slightly to the feeling of your feet being massaged. Your eyes closed, you snuggle back and enjoy the dream. Warm hands on your feet rubbing gently, and warm moisturising oil rubbed into your pale skin. Then, this masseuse begins to kiss and suck each toe gently before running their teeth across each heel. The shivers and spasms across each leg as they do, that driving you wild and all you can focus on in your bleary state are the drips of wetness running down your thighs and the hot wetness of their mouth.

You feel yourself lifted to the couch, a duvet over you and your lover’s hand masturbating you by rubbing you through the cotton. You’re pushing up into their hand, not knowing who they are and whether or not this is a dream. Their mouth on your neck, feather light kisses across you as you shake and gasp. Their hand moving under the hoody, your nipples caressed as you are moved so you are on top of your dream lover, you head resting on their boobs and feeling the bulge in their silk bottoms. Confused you run your hand over the bulge, its cold, not flesh, but a toy of sorts.

The mouth now on your earlobe, tongue flicking as you shake and gasp, pleading for their touch yet all they do is rest the heel of their palm on your slit over the cotton bottoms. Finally, you get frustrated and your bottoms come off. Still, all it is the rubbing rotation of the heel of the palm, you’re mewling, begging for more.  Finally they oblige, fingers diving into you, plunging in deep, aggressive, rough, hard. They hold you close against their breasts.  You in just a hoody, nursing against their nipple as you feel yourself pounded roughly, aggressively touched, your having your hair stroked with the other hand. You feel their bra come off and the nipple you were teasing through unconscious movement is now bare and guided into your mouth.

The fingers faster and faster, teasing your clit, twisting your clit as you scream.  Their fingers playing you like a piano, knowing each key to hit, each sensitive area to touch, where to tap, where to twist and where to stroke gently.  Laying there, you're orgasming fast, hard, intense as they hold you close. They drive you further and further the contrast between the hand that’s ravishing you and the gentle caress of the other driving you wild. You hear a small gasp as your sucking continues and are shocked yourself by the release of milk that flows over your lips and into your mouth.

Blissfully, greedily, you suck, feeding from them as they drive you through orgasm after orgasm.  The body betraying you by your intense arousal at being treated like a child. Nursing from this dream lover, you are attempting to drain each breast, feeling her moaning, her rough and eager arousal at your actions and she yanks off her knickers. Forcing your legs to spread as she pushes the strap on into you.  She needs this as much as you do now.  This isn’t just her pleasuring you, this is rea,l hot desire whimpering with need. As you feed she’s fucking you; hot,  fast, rough and you both come together in a crescendo of moans, gasps, and swearing in multiple languages.

You focused on their heartbeat and their warmth.  The gentle kisses placed on your throat, their heartbeat and breathing lulling you to sleep, your eyelids heavy,  you feel so warm, so comfortable that you just drift off. Happily allowing sleep to overtake you.   Hours later you wake, still curled up under the duvet, but alone now, relaxed and comfortable. The only proof that it wasn’t a dream is resting by your head, a pair of silky knickers and matching bra in a size that isn’t yours. You pull the panties down off the arm of the sofa and a note falls down into your lap.


“Your visit today was about caring, nurturing, and relaxing you. This is all part of the service of the artisan. Each client is selected and chosen carefully. Everything we offer is done with love.  There is a meal in the oven waiting for you my darling client, the hot water bottle is under your back. I hope I left you comfortable and happy. As much as this service is about spoiling someone else and allowing you to really spoil your lover, we at Artisan feel that the only way for you to spoil someone else and give them the passion they desire, is to have felt it yourself. This is why we send samples in the way we do,  involving you in each aspect of the event you have designed with us. But more than that, this is why we pamper you.

Love

 

The Artisan”