Shobha's Kiss

With a outwear suspiration and a light-headed gleaming of hope, Shobha once more than sat down at her desk at menage and powered up her computing device. It had been another retentive day of work dealing with other peoples'business organisation and demands. So often it fell to her to mollify those so-called hand brake and catastrophe. She was in force at her job, perhaps too adept, since she always seemed to be in need. But that was work, not her secret lifespan. That was another story.

Shobha was still a young charwoman, at least in her own mind, though she often felt so very tired. Tired of all the nitwitted drama at body of work and in early people's lives, things that really didn't matter to her. She longed for more, however. Not more drama, just more ... lifespan ... for herself. It wasn't selfishness, it was more desolation. She knew that she was loved, at to the lowest degree by her daughter, the light of her life.

Her daughter was indeed her gravid hoarded wealth, but she was also a constant reminder of the love that she once felt from the man of her life. Her daughter's male parent. He was taken too soon from this life and left Shobha ... alone. well, except for her daughter. Too soon, and dearly missed more than anyone realized. There was left an aching void where love used to take her very soul. The memory of that love was a little consolation but it was also movement of melancholy.

Shobha envied her daughter in some path. The girlfriend was just beginning her life sentence as an adult. Everything was new and fresh and exciting. Shobha longed for those twenty-four hours, or at to the lowest degree the feelings. She missed so often of her past. She felt as though she were simply waiting now, waiting to feel that spark, that excitement from sidereal day gone by. To be ... to be happy again.

She clicked on her computer radio link to Literotica.com. The site was one of her favorite places to go to happen reading material. write up to read to escape the day-to-day monotony. A means to envisage or dream of those affair she missed so dearly. And, as she discovered, Lit had chat way where she could actually speak with other people who like her, were looking for something former than their own day-to-day lives. She smiled as the connection was made and saw the prospicient list of members'names scroll down her filmdom.

"Perhaps today I will meet someone new. Someone to ..."She shook her head to give the axe the thought process. Wishful thinking had only made it worse in the past when hopes hadn't panned out. So many hoi polloi online, so many looking for minute gratification, or into very strange thing. Oh, there were just mass online as well, and indeed, it was a pleasure to meet them and chat. It's what kept drawing Shobha back to these New World chat rooms. Hope.

Leaving the lobby, far too chaotic and hard to conform to any conversations there, Shobha clicked on the articulation Chat Room list. She scrolled down the seemingly endless tilt of inane and sometimes bizarre way figure. She shuddered to reckon of what went on in some of those rather graphically named rooms. It seemed there was a room for anyone's penchant and interest, most not interesting her in the least. Then she paused at Playful Questions, almost clicking to join the room, but then saw the accuracy or daring room."Perhaps this might be fun."Shobha thought, as she clicked to connect the room.

There weren't many multitude in there today. Seeing some that she had spoken with before and remembering that while it was only afternoon for her, the the great unwashed online might be somewhere else on this world, a unlike meter zona. Her afternoon could very well be late in the evening for some. As was the case for mortal that she remembered from another sojourn to this site.

Something inside of her well and she felt ... lighter ... as if some weight had been lifted from her berm that she wasn't even aware of before. She liked that feeling. Shobha was greeted by others in the room and she immediately felt welcomed. There was a game in progress and she watched the interactions and silly schmoose of the others for a patch. But that longing, that need, even if she weren't aware of it, drove her to call for a private message room with him ... that friend from a premature visit here to Lit.

Shobha smiled and her heart skipped a musical rhythm when he joined her in the buck private substance way she created. She shyly thanked him for joining her and they chatted about nothing really other than to just kind of snap up with one another. It had been a couple of calendar week since they had net chatted here. He seemed so assailable and friendly, and there was just something ... something that touched her in a way that she so dearly missed. But how did she verbalise that, to let him know without making it awkward ? It made her almost giddy with mettle, which also fueled that very desire for more.

< Saame session, the other side of the world >

Floyd sat down at his desk in front of his computer. The big varan screen blossoming to life as it woke up from being powered down when not in use. The light reflecting of his tire face and eyes. It had been another long day at work. The foresightful shift were nil new, but after three decennium, thoughts of retreat loomed closer every day. Perhaps then he could finally give Sir Thomas More time to his preferent pass time, writing. As it was, he only had sporadic opportunity to spell, on days off, when there were no early obligations of his time. Yes, time. It was precious indeed, and it seemed that everyone wanted some of it, for their purposes.

Not that former citizenry needing his sentence was a bad thing. Floyd had always been a presenter, someone who would serve out if he could. Anything from physical Labor, to simply sitting with someone and listening to their own problems, trouble or even dreams. Sometimes that was a gift, something that others wouldn't give to those in pauperism. It was something that Floyd had become aware of tenacious ago. It was something that is only partially learned, some is part of our nature, at least it was of his anyway.

Floyd had been a shy child, exceedingly shy, bashful, almost painfully shy. He slowly grew out of it as he grew previous of course, but not nearly as fast as most people did. Even as a young man, he was still very shy and self-examining. But somehow, perhaps by innate recompense, he was a keen observer of others. A people watcher, more, a scholar of homo interactions. While he might not be capable to be outgoing and extroverted as others, he learned to see hint and read between the ancestry. He could almost feel the emotions of former the great unwashed, especially those in distraint or who were troubled.

It's not always a natural endowment, however. Being able to smell what others are feeling. No, sensing was lonesome part of it ... the curse was also feeling those emotions and touch as if they were his very own. Some say that is empathy. Or that he was an"old soul ”. Honestly Floyd didn't know what to call back of all that but he did rather bask making others happy, bringing a little light and joy into their lives even if only for a mo.

Writing was just an extension of that chase. The sideline of happiness, both his own and that of others. He had been writing for a foresighted meter, decades. He had always had a originative bar, but it had not been recognized fully until a young woman that he had dated long ago had asked him to compose her a story. Not just any story, but one of an grownup nature, erotica. Being who and what he was, Floyd took up the asking and did just that. He wrote a narrative for her. She liked it so much that he wrote another.

All good affair come to an end, however. When Floyd and his erotica loving little girl parted path, he let his writing slip of paper into nothingness. He didn't continue to write, for a retentive, retentive clip. spirit makes demands of our metre, gives us other antecedency. It wasn't until many, many years late that he once more picked up the pen and began writing again. And, again, it was on a challenge.

Health military issue and lots of time off, as well as other unrequited desires, led Floyd to explore the internet. Looking for, fervour, for dodging. But as huge as the net is, we all can become quickly jaded by the material offered. erotica is porn, and after a while it all seems to be quite the Sami. thwarting is a very tangible predicament when you are facing it. And then Floyd stumbled across a site that offered more than just impression or video. They also offered smut. Remembering his own authorship decennium ago, it intrigued him. So, he ventured in and record some of the offered stories.

Disappointment indeed. Maybe it wasn't the fabric, maybe it was his own tastes or preconceived idea, either way it was terrible. The stories were plebeian and crude at best. He had told a admirer about it and was laughed at. She asked him if he could do advantageously. Floyd laughed and told her that"Hell, a screen scallywag could compose ameliorate !"So, she challenged him to compose something, thinking that he wouldn't.

At first, Floyd thought he would simply dig up one of the stories he had written so many year ago, and give that to his ally to read. But then, he thought otherwise. He figured that a dependable writer writes about what they know, what they are passionate about. And what did he jazz ? fountainhead, his own life, really. His own adventures as an adult in this half-baked world we live in. So, he set about writing about one of his"adventures ”.

Of course of action, Floyd changed the names of some of the characters in the level, and some shaver details. This being so as to guarantee the anonymity and privateness of those he wrote about, as well as his own. The rest period was simply from memory, what actually happened, with his own feelings expressed of row. When finished, he gave it to his booster to read.

After reading the story, Floyd's friend told him that it was amazing and that he should post it to that web website that he had complained about. To see what others might think of his story. Not having thought of that before, Floyd was a little reluctant at first, but did post it eventually. And forgot about it.

A few week later, he remembered posting the write up and went to the site to check on it. It was amazing. The number of hoi polloi who had read his narration simply blew his mind, and those who bothered to comment were asking for and even demanding more from him. They liked it ! This was something new to Floyd. It felt good. So, he did write more. several taradiddle written and posted before someone messaged him and suggested that he carry his workplace on Literotica.com. They thought his work would be a amend fit there and would be better appreciated by nigh readers.

And that was how Floyd began frequenting Literotica.com. get-go to post his own works, and then to take those of others. He was a member for almost two years before he ever ventured into the chat suite. It was a pleasant revelation. It made him guess of a site on-line many years ago where he had actually met his wife along with many former Friend that he still had to this day. Lit became his go to situation, for entertainment and socializing online.

Floyd, signed on that evening and after glancing at his abode page, clicked into the schmooze rooms. Playful questions was a favorite, but it seemed variety of slow that evening, maybe a lot of family line in private Message elbow room. He also opened up the accuracy or dare way. The game could be quite entertain. Being something of a regular, he was greeted upon entering the room.

A few minutes into the plot, Floyd noticed Shobha had entered the room and said how-do-you-do and welcome back. She thanked him and greeted early players as well. But soon after, Floyd got a buck private substance request from Shobha. Curious, and remembering a lengthy conversation with her a few weeks ago, he happily joined her in private Old World chat.

The two caught up for a piece, verifying memory of each other. Sometimes it's easy to get confused with other user as we all talk to so many the great unwashed here on Lit. Thankfully Floyd had a pretty good memory for particular of individuals. All part of his past times and personal make up and observation skill learned throughout life. Or perhaps it was that empathy playing with his nous. Whatever it was, he was happy to spill with this repose and also somewhat shy woman.

Tonight was different somehow. Shobha seemed, I don't know, unlike. As if she were pushing herself to try More to be bolder. In Floyd's nous it felt as if she were, not quite desperate but still longing for something. Interaction with someone that"got her ”. That understood how she felt and what she missed. She wanted or rather needed a connection on so many layer that she had been doing without for far too long.

Floyd knew from by conversations that Shobha was a widow. Sadly, her tardily husband was taken from her far too soon. She had been a 1 female parent raising their sole child, a daughter for nearly a decade. acquaintance and syndicate can fill up some of the void, but there are things that they can't assist with. someone else who had suffered a expiration like that can empathise. Floyd understood all too well, that void that ache, that motive. Empathy might very well be real.

comparison notes on what they liked, in something as unsubdivided as a looking at, a touch ... and a buss. It soon felt wish, to both, that this friendship could be ... to a greater extent. Perhaps relegated to just here on Lit, in the confabulation rooms, online, but more. An intimacy shared by two people who had needs and understood one another on a very exceptional layer. It was, exciting.

Floyd recognized this, and taking a risk of infection, expressed his thoughts to Shobha about it. He told her that he was not looking to exchange his loving wife with anyone else. His tenderness was spoken for and even though he had love to present and share, he couldn't be swayed. Shobha seemed to understand and reassured him that anything More between the two of them would only be on Lit. Their special place. She was not looking to subscribe to me away from anyone. Only to find ... more. To experience what she had been missing for so long. Joy and felicity and excitement. They both agreed that that could be explored further ... with eyes extensive open.

And so, it began.

Reality faded away with each sequent split second. Each countersign on the covert blending to take form a new tableau. The sparkle dimmed and from somewhere soft euphony began to fiddle. The smell of sandalwood and incense was carried on a diffuse pushover. A breeze that fluttered the linen table cloth and the gauzy silken scarf joint that went from ear to ear across Shobha's lovely face, covering her nose and face below, revealing only soft brown eye. Those thick pool of intense bailiwick and intrigue. They were truly windows of the psyche but they were also searching.

Floyd was struck by the delicate nature of the garment. Shobha's saree was silk in a dark Green River color with flatware threads interspersed within, causing it to nearly burn with each effort no matter how subtle. She was anxious, he observed and noted almost automatically somewhere in his subconscious mind mind. Her bridge player while resting one atop the other matted on the table in front of her, seemed to fidget and flutter with each breath. Her delicate inquisitive eyes darted about as if to take in everything around her but always coming back to his, again ... seeking, searching.

Shobha's breath seemed to entrance every other breathing space in or out, as if she were resisting the urge to bolt, to flee. But desire was winning out and she remained sitting, tense but excited as well. It was a smell that Floyd understood all too well. He too felt strain and stimulate. This was something outside of his own experience, at least recently anyway. He had not felt like this for many, many years, back when he was first dating his wife.

A twinge of guilt momentarily blurred the vision of the cleaning woman sitting at the lowly café table in front of him. The touch were there, they were veridical in this context, but they were still overpowered by those of rattling life. There would never be a terminated disconnect from the real existence but that's not a bad thing really. It was an anchor, a grounding. reality made this all the more special, didn't it ? Letting the mind go to explore and reckon. Letting the heart express desires and longings and needs and perhaps fulfilling those of another in similar need and want. Eyes extensive open air and hearts and minds open as well.

Shobha closed her eyes in reality, for a instant, and whispered a prayer of forgiveness to her late married man. Professing her undying sexual love for him. She missed him so very much. Perhaps ... maybe ... this Friend could still that annoyance and loneliness, even just a little. He seemed so sort and understanding. He wasn't pushy or revelatory like so many others have been. She truly wanted to know more about him, to be his ally ... and perhaps more.

She understood that he was as devoted to his wife as she had been to her late husband. She knew that he would remain faithful and true. But to share some joy and happiness, perhaps some love, in a way, wasn't beyond Hope. She found herself in that dimly lit room at the small café tabular array. Her sleeve seemed all the darker as they lay on the stark white set back cloth clasping her hands in front of herself. A light zephyr flowed through the room moving the edges of the hanging tablecloth and fluttering her veil and sari.

The breeze felt right on the exposed pelt of her munition, and legs, under the table. Opening her eyes and looking up from her bridge player, Shobha looked across the table and into the gentle brass of this unknown, this friend from online. His face was weathered by life and experience, not in a negatively charged way though. His smile was gentle and almost faint-hearted, mouthpiece closed and not showing any dentition. It was his eyes though, that drew her in and captured her tending. Those rich, soft brown eyes ... they seemed to radiate ... peacefulness and ... what ? Some sadness, yes, but understanding, and ... passion. Perhaps not a romantic love, but one of sufferance and endearment all the same.

His encompassing shoulders where rounded, his coat of arms, like her own, were resting on the table top, one hand atop the other. inviolable handwriting of somebody who obviously worked with his deal. Shobha had the signified that he was almost hugging himself, maybe internally. She had the almost overwhelming desire to be inside of that hug. Those eyes and that smile and his arms all looked so ask for and ... secure. She felt herself relaxing a bit more. Just his very mien was calming for some reason.

They had been talking of how practically small affair meant like eye contact ... gazing into the centre of someone special. And here they were, delving into the astuteness of one another's eyes, it was firmly to bankrupt her gaze away from his sort eyes. There was something there that drew her in deeper and deeper. Shobha didn't exactly recognize why, but she unconsciously raised her left hired hand to her right ear and lifted the embryonic membrane from behind her ear, drawing the veil away revealing her font. Her total sensuous sass almost pouting, her smile almost faltering with embarrassment or uncertainty.

It was a surprise then, when after returning her deal to the tabletop that she felt one of Floyd's hired hand come to perch atop of her two handwriting. His contact was idle, comforting. His tegument was tender and surprisingly balmy and gentle. Her eyes widened in surprise, further, when he took his other hand and brought it to her typeface. Floyd gently brushed a few chain of release hair from her cheek, back behind her ear. His fingers lightly touching her skin, then tracing down the back of her ear to her cervix before returning to the table top and her hands.

She could almost feel an electric rush rush through her body as her very skin tingled at his touch. So delicate and lovingly docile. She missed that so much from her previous husband. For a moment she closed her heart and swooned, if only in her mind.

Floyd felt the heat and softness of Shobha's cutis on her forearms and men. And the tremble that radiated through her at first contact. It reminded him of someone from his own past, that tactile response of pure exhilaration and anticipation. He shuddered slightly himself with the flash of that oh so fond computer memory from long ago. That feeling in her eyes could have been the same as well, but through different discolour centre. Yet the gleaming and the excitement and uncertainty were the same.

Those soft brown oculus, so full of hope and anticipation were being blocked by a few stray filament of her darkness chocolate-brown hair. Without even a thought, Floyd brought his rightfield hand up and with the dorsum of his digit brushed the stray hairs across her cheek and behind her ear. His fingers lingered, gently touching the binding of her ear and drifting down to the flaccid warm tegument of her neck before returning to breathe atop of her hands on the table. His hand seemed to tingle with the lingering touch, so electric. He could have sworn that she held her breathing spell then sighed when his bridge player returned to the table.

As they had spoken in the chat room earlier, so too they continued the conversation about little things that are so authoritative between two people and liaison. Eye contact, touching, conversation or at to the lowest degree communication. Not everything had to be spoken after all. And ... kissing. To be honest, kissing had always meant the macrocosm to Floyd. With somebody who cared and was especial, hugging could even be advantageously than sex. The intimacy was beyond reproach. He loved to kiss and be kissed. As they talked, he noticed that Shobha unconsciously licked her lips slowly, as if anticipating the mite of another's lips. His.

A building desire grew within him to cater that kiss to this beautiful womanhood. It just seemed to finger right. That flavor of common desire and trust ... and solace. Taking a hazard, he rose from his sitting position and leaned across the table, slowly approaching her. Still seated in her electric chair, almost as if frozen in spot, her side tilted up to follow him with those soulful searching centre. She bit one recession of her arse lip that was quivering. Her heart seemed to get larger as he approached even closer.

Their nozzle nearly touching as they tilted their read/write head slightly to one side ... then their lips met. Both still had their eyes open until their lips collided softly. So softly as to be fragile, tentative, the warmth and gentle softness was breathing spell taking. The low gear physical contact felt as if both were merely testing the early, getting a feeling for unfamiliar lips. Feeling the other's desire. They paused. Floyd pulled back to once again look into Shobha's dark eyes.



The osculation was ... confection. So very mild and endearing, it left her longing for yet more. She opened her heart as Floyd drew back slightly, and she looked up into those same delicate brown eyes. They looked so moony even as he searched her own center for ... something. realization perhaps ... or maybe permission for Sir Thomas More. Shobha reflexively pursed her back talk and her tongue darted out to moisten them again before she gave the slight of nods. Her lip pulled into the offset of a diffuse smile even as they came together yet again in that soft sensual hit.

Shobha let her hired hand glide up the outside of Floyd's forearms from his hired man on the table to his human elbow. She gripped his arms as considerably she could, almost desperately as if to cling to a life stack while afloat in a sea or sensations almost long forgotten. Her eyes closed again as she let herself go, immersing herself entirely into the moment, into the kiss. Her knife slipped to the spinal column of her own rim hesitantly darting out to test Floyd's rim, only to find that his tongue was doing the same matter.

Tongues met, and danced together, rolling and twirling and embracing one another while those soft carnal rim continued to meld and fondle each early. Floyd withdrew his knife briefly to delineate Shobha's upper lip between his own and gently piece on it, stretching it towards him before releasing it. Not to be outdone, Shobha emitted a tranquilize groan and John Drew in Floyd's seat lip between her own. Nipping at it with her teeth, stretching and drawing it out before she too released it so that they could reunite their mouth and tongues.

She felt Floyd's hand, again, on her left wing cheek. He cupped her mentum and cheek. His fingers touching with a feathery lightness that sent quiver down Shobha's back and caused her breath to recreate yet again. His hand drifted across her impertinence to her ear and then behind it, gently drawing her closer to him. His lips soon followed the path of his manus until it was following to Shobha's ear.

In a balmy rustling, that could almost be mistaken for the very breeze that was still caressing them, Floyd spoke into her ear."peach is to be admired. A beautiful woman should be reminded that she is ... beautiful. You ... are beautiful, Shobha. Never doubt it, for even a moment."Then he kissed her neck opening just below her ear before drawing back and standing up straight.

Shobha still held his arms at the elbows in her hands as she looked up into those diffuse lovesome brown eyes that looked at her with such wonderment and sincerity. For a moment she was simply dumb. Her lips slightly parted and unmoving, still tingling from their candy kiss. Slowly they turned up into a shy smile then grew bigger, her teeth showing slightly.



She was a goddess, and she didn't even agnize the fact. It made her all the more beautiful to Floyd. The risk of exposure he took, stealing a kiss ... no, not stealing, sharing. Offering an intimate haptic communication of wonderment expressed with touching through a osculation. It was bold of him, and out of eccentric for how he lived his life. He had not shared such a buss with any woman early than his wife since they were wed. But somehow, tonight, it seemed the ripe thing to do. He hoped he had not ruined whatever friendship he had shared with this dusky beautiful goddess. simply metre would distinguish, perhaps.

"Forgive me if I've overstepped our boundary. I know we are only friends, or were ... but I hope we still are. I just felt you should cognise that others, myself included, see you as an attractive and vibrant woman. Someone who should get all the attention she wants. Never doubt yourself, and if you do ... ask me again. I'll be happy to show you again what I think."Floyd said lightly but he was not really joking. He was serious.

Floyd started to say something else but paused and looked over his shoulder with a slight frown. The dimmed way seemed to blow over away, the table vanished. Just before Shobha felt his weapon system slipping out of her manus, she heard him say."Alas, the real humanity calls us back. Thank you, my beautiful friend ... until we meet again ...."and Shobha opened her eye and she was sitting at her computer looking at the screen door.

"Did that just happen"Shobha asked herself as she watched the text scroll down her screen, the chatter from the chat room on Literotica seemingly non-stop, as always. She saw that Floyd was saying arrivederci to the room and having to attend to real earthly concern matters ... going to bed virtually importantly. Again, Shobha realized that her friend was on the other side of the planet. Her good afternoon was the middle of the nighttime for him. She sighed then brought the fingers of her rectify handwriting to her sass ... she could swear they still tingled .... and she smiled.

~Perhaps more ? ~