Shobha's Kiss

With a weary sigh and a faint glimmer of Bob Hope, Shobha once to a greater extent sat down at her desk at home and powered up her figurer. It had been another foresighted day of study dealing with other peoples'headache and demands. So often it fell to her to mollify those supposed emergency brake and disasters. She was good at her job, perhaps too good, since she always seemed to be in demand. But that was work, not her buck private life. That was another story.

Shobha was still a unseasoned fair sex, at least in her own head, though she often felt so very tired. Tired of all the wasted play at work and in other people's lives, things that really didn't matter to her. She longed for more, however. Not more play, just more ... life ... for herself. It wasn't selfishness, it was more loneliness. She knew that she was loved, at least by her daughter, the brightness level of her life.

Her daughter was indeed her heavy gem, but she was also a constant admonisher of the honey that she once felt from the man of her life. Her daughter's Father of the Church. He was taken too soon from this life and left Shobha ... alone. Well, except for her girl. Too soon, and dearly missed More than anyone realized. There was left an aching void where love used to fill her very soul. The memory of that sexual love was a small consolation but it was also cause of melancholy.

Shobha envied her daughter in some manner. The girl was just beginning her biography as an adult. Everything was new and brisk and exciting. Shobha longed for those days, or at least the feelings. She missed so much of her past. She felt as though she were simply waiting now, waiting to palpate that spark, that excitement from days gone by. To be ... to be happy again.

She clicked on her computer link to Literotica.com. The internet site was one of her favorite places to go to regain reading fabric. narration to read to fly the coop the day-by-day monotony. A means to think or ambition of those things she missed so dearly. And, as she discovered, Lit had chat rooms where she could actually talk with early people who like her, were looking for something other than their own day-to-day aliveness. She smiled as the connexion was made and saw the long list of fellow member'names scroll down her screen.

"Perhaps today I will meet individual new. individual to ..."She shook her head to dismiss the thought. Wishful thinking had only made it worse in the past when hopes hadn't panned out. So many people online, so many looking for crying gratification, or into very unusual things. Oh, there were good people online as well, and indeed, it was a pleasure to meet them and chat. It's what kept drawing Shobha back to these chat suite. Leslie Townes Hope.

Leaving the lobby, far too chaotic and toilsome to follow any conversations there, Shobha clicked on the joint Chat room list. She scrolled down the seemingly endless list of inane and sometimes outre room name calling. She shuddered to guess of what went on in some of those rather graphically named rooms. It seemed there was a room for anyone's taste and interests, most not interesting her in the least. Then she paused at Playful Questions, almost clicking to join the way, but then saw the Sojourner Truth or Dare elbow room."Perhaps this might be fun."Shobha thought, as she clicked to conjoin the room.

There weren't many people in there today. Seeing some that she had spoken with before and remembering that while it was only afternoon for her, the people online might be somewhere else on this world, a different time zone. Her afternoon could very well be late in the evening for some. As was the character for someone that she remembered from another visit to this site.

Something inside of her vainglorious and she felt ... lighter ... as if some free weight had been lifted from her shoulder joint that she wasn't even aware of before. She liked that tactile sensation. Shobha was greeted by others in the room and she immediately felt welcomed. There was a game in forward motion and she watched the interactions and silly chat of the others for a while. But that hungriness, that need, even if she weren't aware of it, drove her to request a private message room with him ... that friend from a late visit here to Lit.

Shobha smiled and her heart skipped a beat when he joined her in the private message elbow room she created. She shyly thanked him for joining her and they chatted about zilch really other than to just kind of apprehension up with one another. It had been a couple of calendar week since they had last chatted here. He seemed so undetermined and friendly, and there was just something ... something that touched her in a way that she so dearly missed. But how did she carry that, to let him sleep together without making it awkward ? It made her almost giddy with nerves, which also fueled that very desire for more.

< Same session, the other side of the world >

Floyd sat down at his desk in figurehead of his computer. The big monitor cover blossoming to life story as it woke up from being powered down when not in use. The light reflecting of his tired face and optic. It had been another hanker day at piece of work. The hanker shifts were null new, but after three 10, thinking of retirement loomed closer every day. Perhaps then he could finally devote Thomas More metre to his deary strait time, writing. As it was, he only had sporadic opportunities to pen, on solar day off, when there were no early responsibility of his clock time. Yes, time. It was cute indeed, and it seemed that everyone wanted some of it, for their purposes.

Not that other citizenry needing his time was a bad thing. Floyd had always been a giver, person who would help out if he could. Anything from physical labor, to simply sitting with soul and listening to their own problems, troubles or even ambition. Sometimes that was a giving, something that others wouldn't give to those in need. It was something that Floyd had become aware of longsighted ago. It was something that is only partially learned, some is piece 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 quondam of course, but not nearly as fast as nigh people did. Even as a Cy Young man, he was still very shy and invaginate. But somehow, perhaps by natural compensation, he was a keen observer of others. A multitude watcher, more, a student of human interaction. While he might not be able to be outgoing and extroverted as others, he learned to see clues and read between the line of credit. He could almost find the emotions of other people, especially those in distress or who were troubled.

It's not always a gift, however. Being able to smell out what others are feeling. No, sensing was solitary persona of it ... the curse was also feeling those emotions and touch sensation as if they were his very own. Some say that is empathy. Or that he was an"old soulfulness ”. Honestly Floyd didn't know what to think of all that but he did rather enjoy making others happy, bringing a little luminousness and joy into their spirit even if only for a moment.

written material was just an reference of that pastime. The pursuit of happiness, both his own and that of others. He had been writing for a hanker time, X. He had always had a creative streak, but it had not been recognized fully until a young woman that he had dated long ago had asked him to write her a narrative. Not just any fib, but one of an adult nature, erotica. Being who and what he was, Floyd took up the petition and did just that. He wrote a story for her. She liked it so much that he wrote another.

All expert thing come to an end, however. When Floyd and his porno loving girl parted ways, he let his writing slip into nothingness. He didn't continue to drop a line, for a foresighted, long time. animation makes demands of our sentence, gives us other priorities. 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.

wellness take and lot of time off, as well as other unrequited desires, led Floyd to search the internet. Looking for, hullabaloo, for escapism. But as vast as the internet is, we all can go quickly jaded by the textile offered. pornography is porn, and after a while it all seems to be quite the same. Frustration is a very real number quandary when you are facing it. And then Floyd stumbled across a site that offered more than just movie or video. They also offered porn. Remembering his own writings ten ago, it intrigued him. So, he ventured in and read some of the offered stories.

letdown indeed. Maybe it wasn't the material, maybe it was his own gustatory modality or parti pris, either way it was awful. The story were vulgar and crude at best. He had told a acquaintance about it and was laughed at. She asked him if he could do good. Floyd laughed and told her that"netherworld, a screen scamp could write better !"So, she challenged him to write something, thinking that he wouldn't.

At beginning, Floyd thought he would simply dig up one of the stories he had written so many eld ago, and feed that to his friend to read. But then, he thought otherwise. He figured that a secure writer writes about what they know, what they are passionate about. And what did he get it on ? Well, his own sprightliness, really. His own adventures as an adult in this crazy humanity we live in. So, he set about writing about one of his"adventures ”.

Of course of action, Floyd changed the gens of some of the characters in the tale, and some minor details. This being so as to ensure the anonymity and privateness of those he wrote about, as well as his own. The sleep was simply from memory, what actually happened, with his own feeling expressed of course of action. When finished, he gave it to his friend to read.

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

A few weeks later, he remembered posting the news report and went to the site to control on it. It was amazing. The phone number of people who had read his story simply blew his thinker, and those who bothered to notice were asking for and even demanding more from him. They liked it ! This was something new to Floyd. It felt respectable. So, he did write more. several storey written and posted before someone messaged him and suggested that he post his body of work on Literotica.com. They thought his work would be a better fit there and would be better appreciated by virtually reviewer.

And that was how Floyd began frequenting Literotica.com. get-go to brand his own works, and then to read those of others. He was a member for almost two years before he ever ventured into the confabulation rooms. It was a pleasant Book of Revelation. It made him suppose of a site on-line many long time ago where he had actually met his wife along with many other admirer that he still had to this day. Lit became his go to internet site, for amusement and socializing online.

Floyd, signed on that even and after glancing at his home page, clicked into the confabulation rooms. Playful questions was a favorite, but it seemed kind of slow that evening, maybe a lot of folk in buck private subject matter rooms. He also opened up the the true 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 secret plan, Floyd noticed Shobha had entered the elbow room and said hullo and welcome back. She thanked him and greeted other players as well. But soon after, Floyd got a private subject matter request from Shobha. Curious, and remembering a lengthy conversation with her a few workweek ago, he happily joined her in buck private schmoose.

The two caught up for a while, verifying retention of each other. Sometimes it's easy to get confused with former users as we all talk to so many people here on Lit. Thankfully Floyd had a pretty soundly memory for details of individuals. All voice of his yesteryear and personal make up and observation skills learned throughout lifetime. Or perhaps it was that empathy playing with his mind. Whatever it was, he was happy to spill with this calm and also somewhat shy woman.

Tonight was different somehow. Shobha seemed, I don't know, dissimilar. As if she were pushing herself to try to a greater extent to be bolder. In Floyd's mind 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 level that she had been doing without for far too long.

Floyd knew from past conversations that Shobha was a widow woman. Sadly, her belatedly married man was taken from her far too soon. She had been a one mother raising their only child, a daughter for nearly a decade. champion and fellowship can fill some of the nullity, but there are things that they can't assistance with. Someone else who had suffered a departure like that can understand. Floyd understood all too well, that nullity that ache, that pauperism. Empathy might very well be real.

comparing notes on what they liked, in something as elementary as a look, a touch ... and a osculation. It soon felt like, to both, that this friendship could be ... more than. Perhaps relegated to just here on Lit, in the chat room, online, but Sir Thomas More. An liaison shared by two citizenry who had demand and understood one another on a very particular horizontal surface. It was, exciting.

Floyd recognized this, and taking a risk, expressed his thinking to Shobha about it. He told her that he was not looking to supplant his loving married woman with anyone else. His heart was spoken for and even though he had love to cave in and share, he couldn't be swayed. Shobha seemed to sympathise and reassured him that anything more than between the two of them would only be on Lit. Their special place. She was not looking to take me away from anyone. Only to finger ... more. To know what she had been missing for so long. Joy and happiness and upheaval. They both agreed that that could be explored boost ... with eyes wide out-of-doors.

And so, it began.

Reality faded away with each successive heartbeat. Each Holy Writ on the screen blending to shape a new tableau vivant. The lighting dimmed and from somewhere delicate music began to bet. The smell of sandalwood and incense was carried on a soft breeze. A piece of cake that fluttered the linen table cloth and the gauzy silken scarf joint that went from ear to ear across Shobha's lovely look, covering her olfactory organ and font below, revealing only lenient brown heart. Those deeply pools of vivid study and intrigue. They were truly windows of the soul but they were also searching.

Floyd was struck by the delicate nature of the garment. Shobha's sari was silk in a dark super acid color with silver threads interspersed within, causing it to nearly radiate with each apparent movement no matter how subtle. She was nervous, he observed and noted almost automatically somewhere in his subconscious mind psyche. Her men while resting one atop the other flat on the table in front end of her, seemed to fidget and flutter with each breathing spell. Her subdued 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 capture every other breath in or out, as if she were resisting the impulse to absquatulate, to fly. But desire was winning out and she remained sit down, tense but excited as well. It was a belief that Floyd understood all too well. He too felt tense up and activated. 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 pang of guilt feelings momentarily blurred the vision of the woman sitting at the small café table in front line of him. The feelings were there, they were substantial in this context of use, but they were still overpowered by those of real life story. There would never be a terminated gulf from the real globe but that's not a bad affair really. It was an anchor, a foundation. Reality made this all the more special, didn't it ? Letting the idea go to search and consider. Letting the heart express desires and longings and demand and perhaps fulfilling those of another in alike motive and want. optic panoptic open and affectionateness and brain open as well.

Shobha closed her center in realism, for a moment, and whispered a prayer of forgiveness to her tardily hubby. Professing her deathless love for him. She missed him so very a great deal. Perhaps ... maybe ... this friend could ease that pain and loneliness, even just a little. He seemed so variety and understanding. He wasn't pushy or significative like so many others have been. She truly wanted to know more about him, to be his friend ... 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 portion some joy and felicity, perhaps some making love, in a way, wasn't beyond Bob Hope. She found herself in that dimly lit room at the small café table. Her arms seemed all the darker as they lay on the severe gabardine tabularize material clasping her hands in front of herself. A light breeze flowed through the room moving the edges of the hanging tablecloth and fluttering her caul and saree.

The pushover felt thoroughly on the break cutis of her arms, and peg, under the table. Opening her heart and looking up from her handwriting, Shobha looked across the tabular array and into the gentle face of this stranger, this friend from online. His face was weathered by life and experience, not in a negative way though. His smile was cushy and almost timid, mouth closed and not showing any dentition. It was his eye though, that drew her in and captured her attending. Those deep, diffused brown optic ... they seemed to radiate ... heartsease and ... what ? Some sadness, yes, but understanding, and ... love. Perhaps not a romantic erotic love, but one of acceptance and endearment all the same.

His encompassing shoulder where rounded, his arms, like her own, were resting on the board top, one paw atop the other. Strong hands of someone who obviously worked with his hired hand. Shobha had the gumption that he was almost hugging himself, maybe internally. She had the almost overpower desire to be inside of that hug. Those center and that smile and his branch all looked so invite and ... secure. She felt herself relaxing a bit more. Just his very presence was calming for some reason.

They had been talking of how much little things meant like eye contact ... gazing into the heart of someone special. And here they were, delving into the depths of one another's eyes, it was hard to bust her gaze away from his kind eyes. There was something there that drew her in deeper and deeper. Shobha didn't exactly know why, but she unconsciously raised her left hand to her right ear and lifted the embryonic membrane from behind her ear, drawing the embryonic membrane away revealing her face. Her total sensuous lips almost pouting, her smile almost faltering with overplus or precariousness.

It was a surprise then, when after returning her hand to the tabletop that she felt one of Floyd's hands come to reside atop of her two hand. His trace was light, comforting. His skin was strong and surprisingly balmy and conciliate. Her optic widened in surprise, further, when he took his other hand and brought it to her face. Floyd gently brushed a few strands of loose hair from her boldness, back behind her ear. His fingers lightly touching her hide, then tracing down the back of her ear to her neck before returning to the table top and her hand.

She could almost sense an electric surge rush through her body as her very skin tingled at his mite. So delicate and lovingly gentle. She missed that so often from her late hubby. For a moment she closed her eye and swooned, if only in her mind.

Floyd felt the warmth and fuzziness of Shobha's skin on her forearms and hands. And the shiver that radiated through her at maiden liaison. It reminded him of someone from his own past tense, that tactile response of pure excitement and anticipation. He shuddered slightly himself with the flash of that oh so adoring memory board from yearn ago. That face in her heart could have been the same as well, but through unlike colourise eyes. Yet the glimmer and the excitement and precariousness were the same.

Those soft Robert Brown eyes, so wide of promise and anticipation were being blocked by a few stray chain of her dark chocolate-brown hair. Without even a idea, Floyd brought his right hired man up and with the spinal column of his fingers brushed the drift hairs across her brass and behind her ear. His fingers lingered, gently touching the back of her ear and drifting down to the diffuse warmly skin of her neck opening before returning to rest atop of her script on the table. His mitt seemed to tingle with the lingering soupcon, so electric. He could own sworn that she held her breather then sighed when his hand 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 important between two people and intimacy. Eye contact, touching, conversation or at to the lowest degree communicating. Not everything had to be spoken after all. And ... necking. To be true, kissing had always meant the world to Floyd. With someone who cared and was special, kissing could even be better than sex. The liaison was beyond reproach. He loved to buss and be kissed. As they talked, he noticed that Shobha unconsciously licked her lips slowly, as if anticipating the touch of another's lips. His.

A building desire grew within him to supply that buss to this beautiful woman. It just seemed to feel right. That smell of common desire and trust ... and ease. Taking a hazard, he rose from his sitting position and leaned across the table, slowly approaching her. Still seated in her chairperson, almost as if frozen in space, her expression tilted up to follow him with those soulful searching eyes. She bit one box of her bottom lip that was quivering. Her eyes seemed to get larger as he approached even closer.

Their nose nearly touching as they tilted their principal slightly to one side ... then their lips met. Both still had their eyes open until their lips collided softly. So softly as to be tenuous, tentative, the warmth and soft effeminacy was breath taking. The first off physical contact felt as if both were merely testing the other, getting a smell for unfamiliar lips. Feeling the early's desire. They paused. Floyd pulled back to once again look into Shobha's dark eyes.



The kiss was ... sweetness. So very soft and endearing, it left her longing for yet more. She opened her middle as Floyd drew back slightly, and she looked up into those same soft chocolate-brown heart. They looked so dreamy even as he searched her own eyes for ... something. Recognition perhaps ... or maybe permission for more. Shobha reflexively pursed her sass and her glossa darted out to moisten them again before she gave the slightest of nods. Her lips pulled into the beginnings of a lenient grin even as they came together yet again in that soft sensual collision.

Shobha let her mitt glide up the outside of Floyd's forearms from his hands on the table to his articulatio cubiti. She gripped his arms as full she could, almost desperately as if to cling to a animation raft while afloat in a sea or maven almost long forget. Her eye closed again as she let herself go, immersing herself entirely into the moment, into the buss. Her spit slipped to the back of her own lips hesitantly darting out to essay Floyd's lips, only to come up that his natural language was doing the same thing.

natural language met, and danced together, rolling and twirling and embracing one another while those diffuse sensual backtalk continued to blend and caress each other. Floyd withdrew his tongue briefly to draw off Shobha's speed lip between his own and gently nibble on it, stretching it towards him before releasing it. Not to be outdone, Shobha emitted a quietly groan and drew in Floyd's rear lip between her own. Nipping at it with her tooth, stretching and drawing it out before she too released it so that they could reunite their back talk and tongues.

She felt Floyd's hand, again, on her left nerve. He cupped her Chin and cheek. His digit touching with a feathery lightness that sent shudder down Shobha's back and caused her breath to quicken yet again. His hand drifted across her cheek to her ear and then behind it, gently drawing her closer to him. His backtalk soon followed the path of his hand until it was next to Shobha's ear.

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

Shobha still held his limb at the elbow in her hands as she looked up into those delicate warm up brown eyes that looked at her with such admiration and earnestness. For a bit she was simply dumb. Her back talk slightly parted and unmoving, still tingling from their kiss. Slowly they turned up into a shy grin then grew self-aggrandizing, her teeth showing slightly.



She was a goddess, and she didn't even recognize the fact. It made her all the more beautiful to Floyd. The risk he took, stealing a candy kiss ... no, not stealing, sharing. Offering an intimate tactile communication of admiration expressed with jot through a kiss. It was bold of him, and out of character for how he lived his life sentence. He had not shared such a kiss with any woman early than his married woman since they were wed. But somehow, tonight, it seemed the right thing to do. He hoped he had not ruined whatever friendship he had shared with this dusky beautiful goddess. Only sentence would tell, perhaps.

"Forgive me if I've overstepped our boundary. I know we are only Quaker, or were ... but I hope we still are. I just felt you should know that others, myself included, see you as an attractive and vibrant woman. Someone who should get all the attention she wants. Never incertitude 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 slim scowl. The dimmed way seemed to blow over away, the mesa vanished. Just before Shobha felt his arms slipping out of her hired hand, she heard him say."Alas, the really world calls us back. Thank you, my beautiful friend ... until we meet again ...."and Shobha opened her optic and she was sitting at her computer looking at the covert.

"Did that just happen"Shobha asked herself as she watched the text scroll down her screen, the yakety-yak from the chat room on Literotica seemingly non-stop, as always. She saw that Floyd was saying arrivederci to the room and having to pay heed to tangible humankind matters ... going to bed most importantly. Again, Shobha realized that her friend was on the other face of the planet. Her good afternoon was the middle of the night for him. She sighed then brought the finger's breadth of her right hand to her lips ... she could verify they still tingled .... and she smiled.

~Perhaps more ? ~