Shobha's Kiss

With a weary sigh and a timid intimation of promise, Shobha once more sat down at her desk at household and powered up her computer. It had been another tenacious day of work dealing with other people'concerns and requirement. So often it fell to her to mollify those so-called pinch and tragedy. She was good at her job, perhaps too sound, since she always seemed to be in demand. But that was work, not her private life history. That was another story.

Shobha was still a untried woman, at to the lowest degree in her own nous, though she often felt so very hackneyed. Tired of all the senseless dramatic play at work and in early people's lives, things that really didn't thing to her. She longed for more, however. Not more dramatic event, just more ... life ... for herself. It wasn't selfishness, it was more desolation. She knew that she was loved, at least by her daughter, the light of her life.

Her girl was indeed her greatest hoarded wealth, but she was also a invariable admonisher of the love that she once felt from the man of her life history. Her daughter's Church Father. 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 life used to fill up her very soul. The retention of that dear was a small solace but it was also campaign of melancholy.

Shobha envied her girl in some ways. The missy was just beginning her life as an adult. Everything was new and smart and exciting. Shobha longed for those 24-hour interval, or at least the spirit. She missed so much of her past tense. She felt as though she were simply waiting now, waiting to feel that Muriel Spark, that excitement from Day gone by. To be ... to be happy again.

She clicked on her electronic computer connection to Literotica.com. The site was one of her favorite places to go to find reading material material. account to scan to escape the daily monotony. A means to opine or dream of those thing she missed so dearly. And, as she discovered, Lit had chat rooms where she could actually babble out with early people who like her, were looking for something other than their own day-to-day lives. She smiled as the connection was made and saw the long list of member'names scroll down her screen.

"Perhaps today I will see someone new. Someone to ..."She shook her head to displace the thought. Wishful intellection had only made it worse in the past when hopes hadn't panned out. So many people online, so many looking for instant gratification, or into very foreign things. Oh, there were good people online as well, and indeed, it was a pleasure to fit them and chat. It's what kept drawing Shobha back to these chat rooms. Hope.

Leaving the pressure group, far too disorderly and concentrated to follow any conversations there, Shobha clicked on the Join Chat Room list. She scrolled down the seemingly endless inclination of inane and sometimes flakey room name calling. She shuddered to think of what went on in some of those rather graphically named rooms. It seemed there was a room for anyone's tastes and interest group, most not interesting her in the least. Then she paused at Playful inquiry, almost clicking to conjoin the elbow room, but then saw the truth or Dare room."Perhaps this might be fun."Shobha thought, as she clicked to connect the room.

There weren't many hoi polloi in there today. Seeing some that she had spoken with before and remembering that while it was only good afternoon for her, the people online might be somewhere else on this existence, a unlike sentence geographical zone. Her good afternoon could very well be late in the evening for some. As was the event for mortal that she remembered from another visit to this site.

Something inside of her tumesce and she felt ... ignitor ... as if some weight had been lifted from her shoulder that she wasn't even aware of before. She liked that feeling. Shobha was greeted by others in the way and she immediately felt welcomed. There was a game in progress and she watched the interaction and silly confabulation of the others for a while. But that longing, that need, even if she weren't aware of it, drove her to bespeak a common soldier substance room with him ... that friend from a former visit here to Lit.

Shobha smiled and her substance skipped a heartbeat when he joined her in the buck private subject matter room she created. She shyly thanked him for joining her and they chatted about null really former than to just kind of grab up with one another. It had been a couple of weeks since they had last chatted here. He seemed so open and friendly, and there was just something ... something that touched her in a way that she so dearly missed. But how did she give tongue to that, to let him have it away without making it awkward ? It made her almost giddy with nerves, which also fueled that very desire for more.

< Lapp session, the other English of the world >

Floyd sat down at his desk in straw man of his calculator. The big monitor screen blossoming to life as it woke up from being powered down when not in use. The light reflecting of his tired cheek and center. It had been another long day at work. The longsighted shifts were nothing new, but after three decades, thinking of retreat loomed closer every day. Perhaps then he could finally devote more meter to his preferent toss time, writing. As it was, he only had sporadic opportunities to write, on days off, when there were no other obligations of his time. Yes, sentence. It was precious indeed, and it seemed that everyone wanted some of it, for their role.

Not that early masses needing his meter was a bad thing. Floyd had always been a giver, someone who would help oneself out if he could. Anything from physical undertaking, to simply sitting with someone and listening to their own problems, hassle or even dreams. Sometimes that was a giving, something that others wouldn't give to those in pauperism. It was something that Floyd had become aware of prospicient ago. It was something that is only partially learned, some is component part of our nature, at least it was of his anyway.

Floyd had been a shy kid, exceedingly shy, bashful, almost painfully shy. He slowly grew out of it as he grew erstwhile of course, but not nearly as fast as most citizenry did. Even as a young man, he was still very shy and introverted. But somehow, perhaps by born recompense, he was a keen observer of others. A citizenry watcher, more, a student of human interactions. While he might not be able to be outgoing and extroverted as others, he learned to see hint and read between the personal line of credit. He could almost feel the emotions of other hoi polloi, especially those in distress or who were troubled.

It's not always a gift, however. Being able to sense what others are feeling. No, sensing was solely part of it ... the curse was also feeling those emotions and tactual 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 imagine of all that but he did rather enjoy making others felicitous, bringing a little light and joy into their lives even if only for a moment.

Writing was just an extension of that spare-time activity. The following of felicity, both his own and that of others. He had been writing for a long time, decennary. He had always had a originative streak, but it had not been recognized fully until a young adult female that he had dated long ago had asked him to publish her a narrative. Not just any history, but one of an grownup 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 good thing come to an end, however. When Floyd and his pornography loving girl parted ways, he let his writing slip into malarky. He didn't continue to publish, for a tenacious, long time. Life makes demands of our time, gives us other priority. 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 return and lots of metre off, as well as other unrequited desires, led Floyd to research the internet. Looking for, excitement, for escape. But as vast as the internet is, we all can become quickly jaded by the textile offered. Porn is porn, and after a while it all seems to be quite the Saami. frustration is a very really predicament when you are facing it. And then Floyd stumbled across a site that offered more than just pictures or videos. They also offered erotica. Remembering his own writings decades ago, it intrigued him. So, he ventured in and read some of the offered stories.

disappointment indeed. Maybe it wasn't the textile, maybe it was his own tastes or preconceptions, either way it was awful. The stories were vulgar and crude oil at best. He had told a friend about it and was laughed at. She asked him if he could do serious. Floyd laughed and told her that"Hell, a blind rascal could write better !"So, she challenged him to write something, thinking that he wouldn't.

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

Of trend, Floyd changed the names of some of the lineament in the news report, and some underage details. This being so as to ensure the anonymity and privacy of those he wrote about, as well as his own. The residue was simply from storage, what actually happened, with his own tactual sensation expressed of course. When finished, he gave it to his champion to read.

After reading the report, Floyd's protagonist told him that it was amazing and that he should brand it to that web site that he had complained about. To see what others might recall of his story. Not having thought of that before, Floyd was a fiddling reluctant at first, but did station it eventually. And forgot about it.

A few weeks later, he remembered posting the story and went to the site to find out on it. It was amazing. The number of people who had read his history simply blew his intellect, 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 safe. So, he did indite more. Several stories written and posted before someone messaged him and suggested that he stake his work on Literotica.com. They thought his body of work would be a best fit there and would be better appreciated by virtually reader.

And that was how Floyd began frequenting Literotica.com. low gear 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 schmoose suite. It was a pleasant revelation. It made him think of a land site online many days ago where he had actually met his wife along with many other Friend that he still had to this day. Lit became his go to web site, for entertainment and socializing online.

Floyd, signed on that evening and after glancing at his habitation Page, clicked into the chat elbow room. Playful question was a ducky, but it seemed form of slow that evening, maybe a lot of folks in buck private Message room. He also opened up the Truth or daring way. The game could be quite harbor. 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 room and said hello and welcome back. She thanked him and greeted former player as well. But soon after, Floyd got a buck private subject matter request from Shobha. Curious, and remembering a protracted conversation with her a few week ago, he happily joined her in private schmoose.

The two caught up for a spell, verifying memory of each other. Sometimes it's easy to get confused with other users as we all talk to so many masses here on Lit. Thankfully Floyd had a pretty good remembering for detail of individuals. All part of his past tense and personal make believe up and observation skills learned throughout life. Or perhaps it was that empathy playing with his judgment. Whatever it was, he was happy to let the cat out of the bag with this silence and also somewhat shy char.

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 intellect 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 link on so many levels that she had been doing without for far too long.

Floyd knew from past conversations that Shobha was a widow. Sadly, her late husband was taken from her far too soon. She had been a bingle female parent raising their only child, a daughter for nearly a decade. Friends and family can take some of the vacancy, but there are things that they can't help with. Someone else who had suffered a loss like that can understand. Floyd understood all too well, that vacuum that aching, that need. Empathy might very well be real.

Comparing notation on what they liked, in something as simple as a look, a touch ... and a kiss. It soon felt like, to both, that this friendship could be ... Thomas More. Perhaps relegated to just here on Lit, in the schmooze rooms, online, but more. An intimacy shared by two masses who had needs and understood one another on a very particular stratum. It was, exciting.

Floyd recognized this, and taking a risk, expressed his opinion to Shobha about it. He told her that he was not looking to put back his loving married woman with anyone else. His heart was spoken for and even though he had love to give 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 shoes. She was not looking to take me away from anyone. Only to feel ... 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 wide open.

And so, it began.

reality faded away with each consecutive heartbeat. Each word on the screen blending to form a new tableau. The Inner Light dimmed and from somewhere soft music began to play. The smell of sandalwood and incense was carried on a flabby breeze. A walkover that fluttered the linen table cloth and the gauzy silken scarf that went from ear to ear across Shobha's lovely aspect, covering her nose and face below, revealing only piano embrown eyes. Those deep pocket billiards of intense discipline and intrigue. They were truly windowpane of the someone but they were also searching.

Floyd was struck by the delicate nature of the garment. Shobha's sari was silk in a dark green colouration with Ag threads interspersed within, causing it to nearly glow with each movement no issue how subtle. She was queasy, he observed and noted almost automatically somewhere in his subconscious judgment. Her hand while resting one atop the other flat on the table in presence of her, seemed to fidget and bat with each breath. Her balmy inquisitive center darted about as if to take in everything around her but always coming back to his, again ... seeking, searching.

Shobha's intimation seemed to catch every other breathing time in or out, as if she were resisting the itch to bolt, to flee. But desire was winning out and she remained seated, tense but excited as well. It was a flavour that Floyd understood all too well. He too felt tense up and unrestrained. This was something outside of his own experience, at least recently anyway. He had not felt like this for many, many twelvemonth, back when he was first dating his wife.

A pang of guilt momentarily blurred the vision of the womanhood sitting at the small café table in front of him. The feelings were there, they were real in this context, but they were still overpowered by those of rattling life sentence. There would never be a discharge disconnect from the real macrocosm but that's not a bad thing really. It was an anchor, a foundation. reality made this all the more special, didn't it ? Letting the mind go to explore and consider. Letting the nub express desires and yearning and needs and perhaps fulfilling those of another in standardized motive and want. Eyes all-encompassing open and hearts and intellect receptive as well.

Shobha closed her center in realism, for a moment, and whispered a prayer of forgiveness to her late husband. Professing her undying love for him. She missed him so very much. Perhaps ... maybe ... this friend could facilitate that painful sensation and solitariness, even just a little. He seemed so form and apprehension. He wasn't pushy or suggestive like so many others have been. She truly wanted to screw 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 percentage some joy and happiness, perhaps some dearest, in a way, wasn't beyond hope. She found herself in that indistinctly lit room at the modest café table. Her weapon system seemed all the darker as they lay on the desolate white table cloth clasping her hands in front of herself. A light breeze flowed through the elbow room moving the edges of the hanging tablecloth and fluttering her head covering and sari.

The breeze felt good on the endanger hide of her coat of arms, and ramification, under the board. Opening her center and looking up from her work force, Shobha looked across the table and into the gentle font of this stranger, this supporter from online. His brass was weathered by life and experience, not in a minus way though. His smiling was soft and almost timid, mouth closed and not showing any teeth. It was his eyes though, that drew her in and captured her attention. Those cryptical, easy brown centre ... they seemed to radiate ... pacification and ... what ? Some lugubriousness, yes, but apprehension, and ... honey. Perhaps not a romantic dear, but one of acceptance and endearment all the Saame.

His all-encompassing shoulders where rounded, his arms, like her own, were resting on the board top, one hand atop the former. secure paw of individual who obviously worked with his hands. Shobha had the sense that he was almost hugging himself, maybe internally. She had the almost overpower desire to be inside of that hug. Those eye and that smile and his arms all looked so pay for and ... condom. She felt herself relaxing a bit more. Just his very mien was calming for some reason.

They had been talking of how practically piffling things meant like eye contact ... gazing into the eyes of individual special. And here they were, delving into the profundity of one another's middle, it was grueling to give way 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 aright ear and lifted the veil from behind her ear, drawing the veil away revealing her face. Her full sensuous lips almost pouting, her smile almost faltering with embarrassment or uncertainty.

It was a surprisal then, when after returning her handwriting to the tabletop that she felt one of Floyd's hands come to rest atop of her two custody. His touch was lighter, comforting. His hide was warm and surprisingly soft and gruntle. Her eyes widened in surprise, further, when he took his other helping hand and brought it to her face. Floyd gently brushed a few strands of loose hair's-breadth from her cheek, back behind her ear. His finger's breadth lightly touching her tegument, then tracing down the binding of her ear to her neck before returning to the table top and her men.

She could almost sense an electric rush bang through her body as her very skin tingled at his touch sensation. So frail and lovingly gentle. She missed that so much from her deep husband. For a moment she closed her center and swooned, if only in her psyche.

Floyd felt the fondness and softness of Shobha's tegument on her forearms and hands. And the tremble that radiated through her at first impinging. It reminded him of someone from his own past, that tactile response of pure fervour and anticipation. He shuddered slightly himself with the flash of that oh so adoring retentiveness from long ago. That look in her eyes could have been the Same as well, but through different colorise eyes. Yet the lambency and the excitement and uncertainty were the same.

Those mild brownness centre, so full of hope and anticipation were being blocked by a few digress filament of her non-white brown hair. Without even a intellection, Floyd brought his right field hand up and with the backs of his fingers brushed the tramp hairs across her brass and behind her ear. His digit lingered, gently touching the back of her ear and drifting down to the soft warm peel of her cervix before returning to catch one's breath atop of her hands on the table. His bridge player seemed to tingle with the lingering touch, so electric. He could accept sworn that she held her breath then sighed when his hand returned to the table.

As they had spoken in the New World chat room earlier, so too they continued the conversation about little thing that are so authoritative between two people and intimacy. Eye contact, touching, conversation or at to the lowest degree communication. Not everything had to be spoken after all. And ... kissing. To be true, kissing had always meant the world to Floyd. With soul who cared and was particular, kissing could even be best than sex. The intimacy 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 lip. His.

A building desire grew within him to supply that kiss to this beautiful woman. It just seemed to sense right. That notion of common desire and trust ... and solace. Taking a luck, he rose from his sitting perspective and leaned across the table, slowly approaching her. Still seated in her chairperson, almost as if frozen in piazza, her face tilted up to follow him with those soulful searching centre. She bit one street corner of her stern lip that was quivering. Her heart seemed to get with child as he approached even closer.

Their noses nearly touching as they tilted their headway slightly to one incline ... then their lip met. Both still had their eyes open until their rim collided softly. So softly as to be tenuous, provisional, the warmth and entitle softness was breather taking. The first contact felt as if both were merely testing the other, getting a look for unfamiliar lip. Feeling the other's desire. They paused. Floyd pulled back to once again look into Shobha's gloomy eyes.



The kiss was ... sweet. So very diffuse and endearing, it left her longing for yet More. She opened her eyes as Floyd drew back slightly, and she looked up into those same soft brownish eyes. They looked so dreamy even as he searched her own eyes for ... something. identification perhaps ... or maybe license for more than. Shobha reflexively pursed her lips and her tongue darted out to moisten them again before she gave the slightest of nods. Her lips pulled into the beginnings of a soft grinning even as they came together yet again in that soft sensual collision.

Shobha let her hands glide up the outside of Floyd's forearms from his hands on the mesa to his articulatio cubiti. She gripped his arms as best she could, almost desperately as if to cling to a spirit raft while afloat in a sea or sensation almost long block. Her eyes closed again as she let herself go, immersing herself entirely into the moment, into the osculation. Her tongue slipped to the backbone of her own lips hesitantly darting out to test Floyd's lips, only to get hold that his tongue was doing the like thing.

Tongues met, and danced together, rolling and twirling and embracing one another while those soft sensual sass continued to flux and caress each early. Floyd withdrew his tongue briefly to take out Shobha's upper lip between his own and gently nybble on it, stretching it towards him before releasing it. Not to be outdone, Shobha emitted a quieten moan and drew in Floyd's bottom lip between her own. Nipping at it with her dentition, stretching and drawing it out before she too released it so that they could reunite their sassing and tongues.

She felt Floyd's hand, again, on her allow impertinence. He cupped her chin and cheek. His fingers touching with a feathery lightness that sent tingle down Shobha's back and caused her hint to quicken yet again. His hand drifted across her cheek to her ear and then behind it, gently drawing her closer to him. His lip soon followed the path of his hand until it was side by side to Shobha's ear.

In a soft whisper, 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 question 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 weapon system at the human elbow in her hands as she looked up into those soft warm brown eyes that looked at her with such esteem and earnestness. For a moment she was simply speechless. Her rim slightly parted and nonmoving, still tingling from their candy kiss. Slowly they turned up into a shy smile then grew braggart, her teeth showing slightly.



She was a goddess, and she didn't even realise the fact. It made her all the more beautiful to Floyd. The danger he took, stealing a buss ... no, not stealing, sharing. Offering an confidant haptic communication of admiration expressed with tactual sensation through a candy kiss. It was bold of him, and out of persona for how he lived his biography. He had not shared such a kiss with any cleaning woman former than his married woman since they were wed. But somehow, tonight, it seemed the the right way thing to do. He hoped he had not ruined whatever friendship he had shared with this twilit beautiful goddess. exclusively time would tell, perhaps.

"Forgive me if I've overstepped our limit. I know we are only friends, 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 adult female. Someone who should get all the attention she wants. Never question 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 thin frown. The dimmed room seemed to fade away, the table vanished. Just before Shobha felt his arms slipping out of her manus, she heard him say."Alas, the substantial earth calls us back. Thank you, my beautiful protagonist ... until we meet again ...."and Shobha opened her heart and she was sitting at her figurer looking at the screen door.

"Did that just chance"Shobha asked herself as she watched the text scroll down her blind, the yakety-yak from the confabulation room on Literotica seemingly non-stop, as always. She saw that Floyd was saying goodbye to the room and having to attend to real world matters ... going to bed most importantly. Again, Shobha realized that her friend was on the other side of meat of the planet. Her afternoon was the heart of the night for him. She sighed then brought the fingers of her right hand to her lips ... she could swear they still tingled .... and she smiled.

~Perhaps more ? ~