Just a little JSYK...

So just wanted to put my other links out there. Cause I know I promised them to reader(s) before. So I offer an explanation along with.

I have two Lit profiles, obviously PrettyPersephone, but also LadyLeveaux. The Lady is my first profile, encouraged by my mom. I've been a little out of sorts since her passing, hence the direction of my last post on that profile, as well as the new profile. I felt like a person within a person, and not in the sexyflexy way. So now there really are voices (plural) in my head. It's weird. I've been coming to different realizations with varying degrees of gravity and breadth lately, and these writings kind of reflect that transition and change.

So, just to reiterate, check out my other pages. You might find something you like, something that confuses the fuck out of you, or something that takes you to a place you never knew you could find. At least, that's what I hope. *But who am I kidding?*

*So this is an unedited, currently untitled piece. I started it this morning during a bout of insomnia. Apparently 2012 can't wait three weeks to 'be my year'. So, here goes a start, which is no-thing like the last story. More character focus even though the protagonists are as yet unnamed, indepth plot, and a lot of references. A very slow moving attempt, this. But I had to get it out while it was fresh in my mind, so this is what comes of it. And away we go...
~~~

My morning was turning into a prime example of a true clusterfuck. Woke up late, so no time for breakfast. Forgot Dee's lunch, so had to hustle to get that done and to her, which set errands back half an hour, which meant I'd be arriving at the gym later than usual. It wasn't really a big deal; just that this was really the only time I got to sort through the past week and zone out.

I never paid any attention to my surroundings, or even to my progress. When I started coming nearly a year ago, I was in bad shape. I didn't really look fat,just pudgy, and my clothes hid that well enough. But I lacked stamina and strength. Sure, I was strong enough to do a lot of the chores and other household things it would have been nice to have a guy around to do, but that was because of circumstance and not a conscious, concerted effort. I wasn't 16 and on the swim team anymore.

I didn't notice that it slowly became easier and easier for me to hit my stride from a short jog to a full on run on the treadmill. Sure, I was a bit self conscious at first. Big girls shouldn't run, no matter how big your t-shirt is. You get looks. But when my workout buddy, Chloe, met her goal and moved on to slimmer wardrobes, she bestowed upon me her workout playlist. She made me a few cds so that I could put them on my iPod and still have a hard copy in the event my technology impediment reared its ugly head again. We still kept in touch and meet for the occasional walk, jog, treadmill run, or latte at Starbucks, which is nice. I can't say that I have very many female friends I connect with regularly. Not that I'm a ne'er do well, but being empathetic and observant, I try to avoid conflict as much as possible, and most of my friends are male, with female significant others. I don't like stepping on toes or rocking the boat unnecessarily.

I had been blasting Bo's, my precious '04 silver Jetta convertible, speakers out cranking the playlist to get me psyched up from the round of chastising I'd treated myself to for not making sure my alarm was set and not being more prepared in general. The top was down, the breeze was warm, and the makings of a pleasant smile were on my face as I pulled into the parking lot. I hopped out, secured the car and grabbed my bag, a slight spring in my step as Beyonce's End of Time continued in my head. I fished out my member card, took a swig from my ice bottle (bit of a trick I picked up: to keep your water refreshing, especially in the summer at small gyms, freeze a water bottle a third to half full, adding a slice of fruit if you like, then about an hour before you hit the gym, fill the bottle with cool water. By the time you reach the first machine, even ifyou live over the gym, you'll have cold, lightly sweetened if you choose, water that won't warm even if the air conks out in the middle of July. And, it should last well past your workout if you freeze it halfway or a bit more and pace yourself.), and stepped into my sanctuary. I immediately wanted to turn around and go home.

'Shit!' I thought to myself. Some jackass was on my treadmill. The one farthest from the door, in the corner, facing away from the row of TVs. Once I was on my own in my visits, I decided on this machine because it was inconspicuous enough. Even as I improved, I didn't want peopleto notice me. I liked being invisible. It was a condition I had become accustomed to and perfected. I could zone out to my tunes, go somewhere else in my mind and not worry about the squat Guido in the Mets shirt or the sturdy girl in the lacrosse hoodie glaring at the Barbie twins who were making sure the jock wannabes in the row behind them were watching their asses and ponytails swing as they ran. I was alone. No one took the other machines next to my treadmill. Couldn't be seen over in that corner. But I as didn't have anyone looking for me, other than Chloe when she could make it in, it was perfect.

"Uh-oh. What is it? You're usually the most oddly chipper person here, even when you're exhausted."

I could only smile lamely at Tara, the girl at the member desk. She'd been the first one of the staff to actually say something to me about anything. She called me on the fact that I should consider a new wardrobe, as my current one was almost an issue.She just grinned and nodded to my shoulder, exposed from the now super large neck of my sweatshirt. We spoke every visit since then, and formed a nice rapport.

"No big deal, Tar. Woke up late is all. Been running like feet on fire since. Gonna kick rocks outta here and get some work done." I snapped my ear buds into my iPod as I spoke, waving the device to show what I meant. I took a gamble glance over at my machine, hoping to find that the dude was just finishing up, but no such luck. The fucker was actually pressing buttons and speeding up. My jaw stayed clenched and off the floor by sheer force of will.

"Gonna go drop this bag, and maybe stretch at the lockers. Never been this late before. Lotsa folks in here this time of day."

"Yeah," Tara laughed. "People wanting to assuage guilt for weekend debauchery and lunchtime foibles."

That got an honest laugh out of me. I nodded and waved as I made my way to the locker room, ear buds snuggly in my ear, and A-B Machines revving up. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

The locker room was empty enough, so I found a free space and stowed my bag. I tucked my iPod into my bra cup and sorted out the lock, making sure to put my wrist-cord key and water bottle on the counter. I slowly began to stretch, my mind already wandering as it focused on the sensations of each muscle being prepared for wherever I would wind up today. I inhaled deep as I rolled my neck and stretched my arms overhead and behind me, opening up my ribcage. This was my favorite stretch. I convinced myself that maybe my muscles were a little too long for my skeleton, which would explain why swimming and stretching always made me feel fantastic. The warm push and pull, the tension, even the disappointment of release. I tried not to think about what a former teammate had once said.

"You're into that kind of stuff. Weird torture and shit. You probably couldn't even get off unless somebody tied you down and spread you out so wide all your joints dislocated."

Back then, what she said had hurt. Bad. I was already weird enough without somebody predicting my future with such certainty. But now, I could see where she may have been right. I mean, I did major in medieval history with a forensic psychology minor. I had been into things like the Inquisition and obscure methods of torture for years. It fascinated me. The methods, the implementation, the tools and equipment, the mindset, scandal and salaciousness, logic and reasoning. And I'd be lying if I said I didn't get a little wet when I heard a reclusive collector was auctioning his prized and possibly authentic 15th century torture rack a few years ago. What can I say? History, and the darker side of human nature, has always fascinated me.

I exhaled and shook out my arms as a middle aged woman came in. I smiled at her as I leaned to the side now fully engrossed in the tantalizing promise of escape afforded me by my run. I frowned a bit when Angel Is a Centerfold came on. Nothing against the song or the J. Giles Band, I just hadn't decided what mood I was in, and that song puts me in that 80's teen movie state of mind. It's a good thing more often than not, though.

I timed my stretches by the verses and chorus breaks, so by the time Angel was over I was almost to the floor. Just a few more, and hopefully my interloper would have the decency to disappear. I mean, it's pretty much common knowledge around here that that particular treadmill is mine. What's his deal anyway? He must be new. I could hear the angel and devil of my conscience gearing up for another row.

**Let's be nice to him.**

--Let's tell him to fuck off!--

**He may have a nice girlfriend. You could use afew more female friends.**

--Can it, Glenda Goodwitch!--

I smiled and shook my head as I pulled my heel up behind me, reaching up with my opposite arm. I love the dull pop I get when Istretch my spine just right. I switched sides, again getting that pop that makes me sigh. Maybe today wouldn't be such a wash after all.

I turned to see my gym mate give me a wry, knowing smile, almost an admonition. 'Yeah, I know. Keep it up and I'll have a bad back, blah blah. But given the circumstances, who's gonna care?' I thought to myself. It must have shown in my face, either that thought or my reaction to the opening bars of Alanis' Unforgiven, because her face softened for a moment before she smiled and headed out to the rest of her certainly wonderful day.

I finished stretching, particularly enjoying the pull of tension in my hamstrings as I squatted and extended to either side.'One of these days I really won't be able to do this anymore,' I thought. That thought took me places I didn't need to be, so I shook it off, jumping in place a few times to get the blood really going before skipping the rest of Alanis caterwauling to the next song. My m.o. is usually to find a kicking jam, take the iPod off shuffle, hop on the machine and let my playlist go in order. I went off a little bit on the inside as H.A.M. blasted through my buds, the possibility of having to wait for my machine far from my mind.

~~~
So like Mumble said, that's all I got so far. I mean, I do know where this is headed eventually, but I don't have anything to segue between here and there at the moment. So... Happy Holidays everyone! Let's hope 2012 sees me all carpal tunneled out from writing. :)


LMA
PP
LL

Well...

Just a quick blurb. I attempted to tie in another piece I've been working on to the Tey and Mara story, but apparently, these two don't want much of a plot. What they do want, however, is all my attention, so there will be more of them shortly, along with some other pieces from both my Literotica pages (perhaps).

Monday Morning

Many thanks to my editor, LaRascasse.

♦♦♦♦♦

　

It had been a crazy weekend. I'd barely made it to bed before three am Monday morning with all the scurrying and prep I needed to get done. Of course, he'd crashed out hours before, lucky bastard. In his defense, though, he had been working all week and weekend, and we missed greeting each other when he got home.

So when my hand did its usual 6 am snooze bar slam dance, I just turned on my side and tried to get back to catch a few more winks. It wasn't unusual for him to turn with me and spoon me into his arms; I just never thought he was awake before.

I thrilled to the warmth of his body and the possessive way his arms slid around me. Nothing makes a woman feel better than being held by her lover. And the sound of the city coming to life under a blanket of rain was all the more relaxing.

I felt his substantial morning wood nestle in the cleft of my thighs and smiled to myself a bit. To this day I still wonder how I got so lucky. He pressed a tiny kiss to the nearly invisible initials at the base of my neck and then rested his head on my shoulder. He did this quite often in his sleep. But I knew something was different when his thumb began to stroke my nipple lightly through my tank top.

I could feel the rhythm of his heartbeat against my back, and his breathing seemed conducive to him being asleep. But that damn thumb was working magic, and that low, rumbling groan against my back made me uncertain. His hand encased as much of my breast as it could, then, giving a light squeeze that got me tingling all over. God bless this man, he knows how to sleep. Another kiss to my tatt, and a quiet, groggy whisper, "Mara."

I smiled to myself as I tried to imagine what we were doing in his dream. He and I have that sort of razor's edge relationship that neither of us can find a strong enough reason to quit. We know each other well enough to needle, taunt, and goad just so to get just beneath the surface before we back off and the chase begins. It’s not done with outright malicious intent, but rather, simply because it’s so satisfying to agitate each other. Some people would call that a 'volatile codependency'.

I could feel his length getting harder behind me, thoroughly wedging further between my legs as he continued to palm my tit. I closed my eyes and yielded to the subtle waves of sensation coursing through my body at his touch. The stupid alarm blared again.

I stretched to the snooze bar, barely grazing it in my effort to not wake him with my movements. His hand squeezed possessively, hips thrust slightly, and I melted back into his arms. I'd take this wake up over an electronic one ten times out of ten, and gleefully begin my days. But the morning waits for none to get their pre-daybreak fix, save for a favored few.

"Where you goin'?" he mumbled into the gap between my shoulder blade and the pillow, squeezing hard enough to be just this side of painful and pulling me back flush against him. His now blatantly hard shaft slid further between my now askew legs, the passage made easier by the slickness his hands were practically wringing from me.

"It's Monday, baby," I whispered. As much as I hated to, I tapped his hand to get him to let go. He just grunted and shifted his position, putting the pillow of my shoulder underneath him again.

"Come on, Tey. I gotta get up, babe." To anyone it would have been obvious by the laughter, and if I'm honest the reluctant whine, in my voice that I didn't want to get up.

Matthieu, 'Tey', was one of the most beautifully created men I ever saw. Not my usual 'type', if only in coloring, I would be hard pressed not to admit just hearing his voice got me all wet and sticky. My best friend and I have a top ten list of people (of either gender, we're heteroflexible and appreciate all forms of beauty) we'd nail if the opportunity arose. Shan was all about the blonds, gingers, and the Tyson Beckford types. I'm much more for the dark, broodingly intimidating type. Guys like Oded Fehr, Henry Rollins... While I do have a blonds list, it is admittedly female heavy. But my top two are guys, and will not be unseated. Suffice it to say that no one expected me to give Tey more than a passing, lustful glance. To borrow a Tosh phrase, "He's what Hitler had in mind". And I will cop to giving him a hard time at first. But damn if I don't love 'persistence' of any variety. Especially wrapped in a tall, broad, gritty baritone.

I'll never understand the appeal of these rail thin grown men. Some of them are lovely, but in that 'art exhibit' sort of way. I just like guys who look like they could easily toss me across a room intoxicated. It doesn't hurt that Tey's numbers are impressive: 6'6", 275, 9" by 3", and the most important number, 189. The man is wicked brains. And nothing is sexier to me than well wielded intelligence. Well, maybe well wielded intelligence with a hint of the barbaric tactician... But that's in a perfect world.

I tried again to wiggle from his embrace, but was only successful in shifting his grip from my sensitive nipple to my waist. My movements stilled as he pressed flesh into bone at my hip. That's when I knew he was awake. The delicious pain radiated through me as he loosened his grip enough to caress the curve of my thigh, pulling my body ever closer to his.

"Morning," he mumbled sleepily. I could feel and hear the sly smile in his voice. And whether I had time to or not, my morning was starting with roll in the sheets, not that I minded in the least. With Tey, my irritation is only ever for show.

"Hey, you. Eggs and bakey. Gotta get up dude. Come on, I'll make you a late breakfast."

"Yeah, you will." He sounds so sexy when he's half sleep.

I was mentally going to go through my laundry list of reasons why I couldn't stay and play when his hand slid into the leg of the boy shorts I was wearing. He kneaded my thigh with a delicious forcefulness that sent a moan through me before I could stop it. He knew he had me now.

I almost pouted aloud when he shifted his hand. Next thing I knew, my second favorite pair of panties, the 'kiss the baker' pair, lay ripped on the left hem, thankfully not completely ruined. I scoffed, only partially affronted as he was still sending jolts of pleasure through me with his touch.

"Mmmm. Sorry babe," he said into my neck. I barely had a chance to get a good telling off ready before he was sliding into me. His left hand anchored me to the bed as he thrust into me with agonizing leisure. My chest rose and fell as his muscular arm snaked around my hip and down between my thighs. Only an innocent or an imbecile would assume him anything less than fully awake and executing a coup of my Monday morning. Fucker!

"Do you have any idea," he whispered hotly in my ear, "how many ways I imagined ripping you apart?"

I was beginning to tremble from the feel of him so deep in me but yet not deep enough, the strain in his voice from his just barely leashed control exciting me further, and his fingers perilously close to my clit, unmoving. I could feel the tiny pulses of the steel band of his arm around me, matching his heartbeat and mine succinctly. The breath I'd been holding came out in a panting moan as he began to tunnel the rest of his masterful cock into me. Apparently he could brook finesse no longer as he force fed my cunt the rest of his length in one savage upstroke.

"FUCK!" He growled in my ear at his complete possession of me, nipping my earlobe and flicking it with his tongue between his teeth. I screamed and came as his thick fingers slid through my folds and trapped my clit between them.

"Shut the fuck up!" Tey ordered dangerously. I could only comply, having been reduced to a whimpering, near viscous, puddle in his arms. My eyes drifted closed as he withdrew from me just as excruciatingly slowly.

"So fucking tight for me, Mara. Did you miss me, baby? Did you miss me holding you down and making you take all this cock inside you till you scream?"

"God, Tey." He could always get me so wet and turned on that I'd moan like an alley cat in heat. I leaned my head back against his neck as he settled into a methodical rhythm, his fingers scissoring my clit deliciously in cadence with his slow, strong-arming thrusts.

His tongue snaked out behind my ear as he used my body like a fist on his dick. My mouth hung open soundlessly as he whispered dirty, nasty things to me mingled with inane, everyday quips to keep me just this side of euphoric ecstasy.

"I'm gonna... mmmm... fuck you slow while you... mmmm... make me pancakes, Mar. I'll fuckin' sneak up on you in your garden and ram this cock in your ass and make the neighbors call the cops again. You can tell them why you're taking my fuckin' cock in all your holes while you're trimmin' the hibiscus and screaming bloody fuckin' murder, ok, babe? Yeah."

Then he just stopped. Buried balls deep and on the brink, he just fucking stops. I absolutely seethed in that moment and I let him know. My eyes shot open, short blunt nails digging pink tinted crescents into his forearm. I stared burning daggers at him as he flexed inside me.

"Aww. Kittenface, you look upset babe. What's wrong?"

"Fuck you!" I spat at him with all the half indignation I could muster with his cock doing a tight dance along my walls. I got a sound slap to my aching clit for my outburst. "FUCKING JESUS!"

"Filthy mouth, Mara. You've become a very dirty girl since I been gone. I'm gonna have to scrub your mouth out." Tey leaned in and nipped the side of my neck, the pinch of his teeth ripping a yelp from my upper register and making me tense and ripple around him, pulling him even deeper.

"You scream so good for me, though, so I forgive you." See what I meant by 'razor's edge relationship'?

"Go straight to hell, Matthieu," I managed to grit out before he rolled onto his back with me still gored on his dick. He anchored me to his hips as his fingers danced nimbly on my clit. My arms flashed out to the mattress, my fingers barely gaining purchase on the sheets around his massive torso. He pulled out a fraction; let the threat hang for a minute.

"Take it back, babygirl. You know you love me." To emphasize his point he rained light kisses on my neck and shoulder as his hand moved from my hip to my throat, daring me to contest him.

"DAMMIT, TEY!" I whined loudly, almost in tears. I was on a magnificent multifaceted precipice, just on the verge of hating him, loving him, and wanting to torture him barbarically. He tilted his hips just slightly, raising my ire even more. He tormented me with scant inches, moving nearly all the way out and only just barely in; a cruel gibe.

"You want me to fuck you hard and fast or slow and deep, Kittenface? Hmmm? Tell me baby. Ask me nicely or I'll stop." He accentuated his last word with another painfully thrilling slap to my clit. By now I was dripping sweat, oozing lust and all but delirious. I yanked his hand away in a frenzied attempt at the now morning derailing orgasm that Tey dangled frustratingly out of reach.

I pressed down hard and squeezed my thighs together with enough force to cramp and bruise. The pleasure slammed through me and I nearly sat bolt upright as he surged up into me again, completely engulfed by my more than ravenous snatch. I could hear Tey under me fighting the losing battle for his control and smiled a little to myself. However, my victory of will was short-lived.

I took advantage of his hands releasing me to my own devices in his distraction and got four deep strokes off before he knocked my right arm out from under me, trapping both my wrists within one massive hand between my thighs and slammed me down on his hips, stabbing savagely at my cervix. His sturdy thighs lifted us off the bed as his legs slid between mine, prying them apart with his knees and throwing his calves over my ankles. My ensuing wail was autonomic as he sent us crashing back into the mattress, slamming in and out of me with rapid fire accuracy. Apparently he'd had just enough of the niceties as I.

"Thief," he whispered hotly in my ear. "Who said... you could... fuck... this... dick... huh?"

We both were past pride's fall. I wept openly and begged and pleaded to every deity I'd ever heard of as Tey moved with sleek savagery deep within me. My fingers flew over my folds of their own reactionary accord, confined as they were. I could feel his tense, high-wrought breathing as he demolished me from the inside out. His straining torso tensed and flexed over and over. I knew then he was just as ready to let go as I was. Even moreso, maybe. I was too far gone to be philosophical.

And when my own massive release was as imminent as my next breath, he thrashed into me once more before yanking out of my well beaten cunt and tossing me on my back underneath him.

"Not yet baby. Not yet." I could feel his pulse hammering through his body as he slid gently back into me, with such determined tenderness my tears began anew in earnest. He leaned in, whispering my name as he kissed my tears away.

"Stay with me, Mara. Right here babe."

My hands flew to his shoulders, my fingers tangling in his hair and gripping his rotator. He gave a satisfying hiss as my nails broke skin somewhere over his shoulder. His jaw clenched and he growled low as I thrust my hips up to collide with his. In that moment, with my fingers clenched in his hair and warm beads of sweat drizzling my neck from his brow, I seriously doubted if he ever had, or would, look sexier to me. There was a purposefulness in the depths of his gaze I failed to recognize.

"Show me," he whispered.

"Yes." Yes.

I pulled him to me, my hand going to his neck as our lips met. I surrendered everything I am to that kiss, that moment. The heartache and fear, pride and hard-knocks strength, honor and willfulness, need and love; all laid bare to him as I unraveled completely under his touch. He ran a hand down my left side, hooking my leg around his waist. I could feel the swell of him stretching me beautifully as he rolled us once more, and with one final thrust froze under my quivering body, eyes closed, head thrown back, delightfully strained in his own ecstasy.

Tey held me there, pinned to his loins like a badge of honor as I shook and trembled, as much from crying as from the bliss of the moment. He ran his fingers through my unruly curls as he spent himself deep into me. From what sounded like far away I heard him whispering to me.

"Gi melin. Sevig i veleth nîn." I could only nod as I wept into the hollow of his left shoulder. The beauty of those words from his voice undid me.
"Do you love me, angel?" I nodded wordlessly. I had never loved any man more. He ran his hands over my still trembling form as he soothed me. "Good." I pressed kisses to his neck and shoulders as my tears ebbed. He turned to his side and gathered me in his arms slowly sliding out of me wetly, making my sensitive flesh sing a lament of his absence. It still amazed me how he could fill me so completely and still be at least semi erect.

As I settled into his arms and got comfortable - Monday would definitely have to wait - I felt a discomfort in my left hand. I pulled my arm out from under me, staring stunned and wondering when he found the time to slip the bold ring on me unnoticed.

Tey gave me a little squeeze.

"Forever, Xiomara. Marry me." He must have felt the tension I tried to hide. We’d had this discussion before. He refused to accept that I just was not the marrying kind. He grazed calloused fingertips over my arm. "Come on, the Elvish counts for something, right?" he laughed. "Save my tarnished reputation in society and make an honest man of me."

I couldn't hide my ginormous smile. "Maybe. It's a risky affair. You know what you would gain, but what would you bring to this union?" I was goading him simply for getting one over on me with that ring. We would discuss dialing it back a bit when we were both coherent.

He looked down at me with mock indignation. "You've forgotten already, huh?" His hand slid down and pinched my ass sharply, making me squeal and wiggle in his arms. "Guess I'll have to... remind you. Later...," he yawned. Settling me firmly in his arms, the last thing either of us remembered before sleep claimed us was the rumble of his sexily groggy voice.

"Happy birthday, Mara."

"Happy birthday, Tey."