Shobha's candy kiss

With a weary sigh and a faint glimmer of hope, Shobha once more sat down at her desk at domicile and powered up her computer. It had been another long day of employment dealing with other peoples'care and demands. So often it fell to her to mollify those so-called emergencies and disasters. She was good at her job, perhaps too in force, since she always seemed to be in demand. But that was work, not her private living. That was another story.

Shobha was still a youth womanhood, at least in her own mind, though she often felt so very tired. Tired of all the senseless drama at work and in other people's lives, things that really didn't matter to her. She longed for more, however. Not more drama, 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 daughter was indeed her keen gem, but she was also a constant admonisher of the passion that she once felt from the man of her life. Her daughter's Father-God. 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 passion used to fill her very someone. The computer memory of that love was a small solacement but it was also cause of melancholy.

Shobha envied her daughter in some ways. The girl was just beginning her life-time as an grownup. Everything was new and smart and exciting. Shobha longed for those days, or at to the lowest degree the feeling. 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 glad again.

She clicked on her computer inter-group communication to Literotica.com. The site was one of her best-loved position to go to find reading material. Stories to read to escape the day-to-day monotony. A means to suppose or dream 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 former than their own day-to-day spirit. She smiled as the connection was made and saw the farsighted inclination of members'names scroll down her screen.

"Perhaps today I will fill someone new. Someone to ..."She shook her head to fire the thought. desirous thinking had only made it worse in the past when hopes hadn't panned out. So many citizenry online, so many looking for instant gratification, or into very unusual things. Oh, there were goodness masses online as well, and indeed, it was a pleasure to meet them and chat. It's what kept drawing Shobha back to these Old World chat rooms. Hope.

Leaving the pressure group, far too disorderly and hard to follow any conversations there, Shobha clicked on the join Chat Room list. She scrolled down the seemingly endless tilt of inane and sometimes outre room figure. She shuddered to suppose of what went on in some of those rather graphically named rooms. It seemed there was a way for anyone's tastes and interests, most not interesting her in the least. Then she paused at Playful doubt, 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 get together 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 globe, a dissimilar time zone. Her afternoon could very well be late in the eve for some. As was the example for someone that she remembered from another visit to this site.

Something inside of her well and she felt ... hoy ... 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 room and she immediately felt welcomed. There was a game in progress and she watched the interactions and lightheaded chat of the others for a while. But that hungriness, that need, even if she weren't aware of it, drove her to quest a private subject matter room with him ... that friend from a previous sojourn here to Lit.

Shobha smiled and her pump skipped a beat when he joined her in the private message room she created. She shyly thanked him for joining her and they chatted about nil really former than to just variety of grab up with one another. It had been a duet 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 express that, to let him know without making it awkward ? It made her almost giddy with boldness, which also fueled that very desire for more.

< Same session, the other side of the humankind >

Floyd sat down at his desk in front of his computer. The big monitor CRT screen blossoming to life as it woke up from being powered down when not in use. The light reflecting of his fag out grimace and centre. It had been another long day at work. The foresightful shifts were null new, but after three decades, opinion of retirement loomed closer every day. Perhaps then he could finally commit to a greater extent clock time to his darling walk time, writing. As it was, he only had sporadic chance to save, on years off, when there were no other indebtedness of his metre. Yes, clock time. It was cherished indeed, and it seemed that everyone wanted some of it, for their purposes.

Not that other mass needing his time was a bad affair. Floyd had always been a giver, individual who would help out if he could. Anything from physical task, to simply sitting with someone and listening to their own problem, troubles or even pipe dream. Sometimes that was a gift, something that others wouldn't give to those in need. It was something that Floyd had become cognizant of long ago. It was something that is only partially learned, some is role of our nature, at to the lowest degree 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 Old of course, but not nearly as fast as most people did. Even as a young man, he was still very shy and introverted. But somehow, perhaps by natural recompense, he was a acute commentator of others. A people watcher, more, a educatee of man fundamental interaction. While he might not be able to be outgoing and extroverted as others, he learned to see clues and read between the lines. He could almost find the emotions of former people, especially those in suffering or who were troubled.

It's not always a giving, however. Being capable to smell out what others are feeling. No, sensing was alone function of it ... the jinx 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 soul ”. Honestly Floyd didn't know what to think of all that but he did rather enjoy making others happy, bringing a piddling light and joy into their liveliness even if only for a moment.

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

All good things come to an end, however. When Floyd and his pornography loving girl parted means, he let his writing slip into nothingness. He didn't continue to pen, for a long, long time. Life makes need of our time, gives us other antecedence. 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 issues and lots of fourth dimension off, as well as other unreciprocated desires, led Floyd to research the cyberspace. Looking for, turmoil, for safety valve. But as vast as the internet is, we all can become quickly jaded by the fabric offered. smut is porn, and after a while it all seems to be quite the Same. defeat is a very tangible plight when you are facing it. And then Floyd stumbled across a situation that offered More than just pictures or videos. They also offered porn. Remembering his own writings decades ago, it intrigued him. So, he ventured in and understand some of the offered stories.

Disappointment indeed. Maybe it wasn't the fabric, maybe it was his own penchant or preconceptions, either way it was awful. The storey were vulgar and crude at best. He had told a friend about it and was laughed at. She asked him if he could do better. Floyd laughed and told her that"the pits, a subterfuge monkey could write better !"So, she challenged him to publish something, thinking that he wouldn't.

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

Of class, Floyd changed the names of some of the case in the tarradiddle, and some minor contingent. This being so as to secure the anonymity and privacy of those he wrote about, as well as his own. The rest was simply from memory, what actually happened, with his own tactual sensation expressed of course. When finished, he gave it to his admirer to read.

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

A few week later, he remembered posting the story and went to the site to condition on it. It was amazing. The phone number of hoi polloi who had read his story simply blew his mind, and those who bothered to gloss were asking for and even demanding more from him. They liked it ! This was something new to Floyd. It felt good. So, he did spell more. Several stories written and posted before soul messaged him and suggested that he mail his work on Literotica.com. They thought his piece of work would be a dear fit there and would be better appreciated by most lecturer.

And that was how Floyd began frequenting Literotica.com. number 1 to carry his own kit and caboodle, and then to show those of others. He was a member for almost two years before he ever ventured into the chat room. It was a pleasant revelation. It made him think of a site online many years ago where he had actually met his wife along with many other friends that he still had to this day. Lit became his go to site, for entertainment and socializing online.

Floyd, signed on that evening and after glancing at his rest home page, clicked into the chat room. Playful questions was a favorite, but it seemed kind of slow that evening, maybe a lot of ethnic music in private content rooms. He also opened up the Truth or Dare way. The game could be quite nurse. Being something of a regular, he was greeted upon entering the room.

A few moment into the secret plan, Floyd noticed Shobha had entered the room and said how-do-you-do and welcome back. She thanked him and greeted other players as well. But soon after, Floyd got a private message request from Shobha. Curious, and remembering a lengthy conversation with her a few workweek ago, he happily joined her in private New World chat.

The two caught up for a while, verifying memory of each early. Sometimes it's easy to get confused with other users as we all talk to so many people here on Lit. Thankfully Floyd had a pretty secure storage for item of individuals. All part of his past and personal pretend up and observation skill learned throughout animation. Or perhaps it was that empathy playing with his mind. Whatever it was, he was happy to tattle with this quiet and also somewhat shy charwoman.

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 mind it felt as if she were, not quite desperate but still longing for something. fundamental 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 stratum that she had been doing without for far too long.

Floyd knew from past conversations that Shobha was a widow. Sadly, her former husband was taken from her far too soon. She had been a single mother raising their only tike, a daughter for nearly a decade. booster and household can fill some of the void, but there are things that they can't help with. individual else who had suffered a loss like that can understand. Floyd understood all too well, that void that ache, that need. Empathy might very well be real.

comparing greenback on what they liked, in something as dim-witted as a look, a cutaneous senses ... and a kiss. It soon felt like, to both, that this friendship could be ... more. Perhaps relegated to just here on Lit, in the schmooze rooms, online, but to a greater extent. An intimacy shared by two people who had motive and understood one another on a very exceptional spirit level. It was, exciting.

Floyd recognized this, and taking a risk, expressed his persuasion to Shobha about it. He told her that he was not looking to replace his loving wife with anyone else. His heart was spoken for and even though he had love to sacrifice and part, 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 peculiar property. 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 subject.

And so, it began.

world faded away with each successive heartbeat. Each Son on the screenland blending to form a new tableau vivant. The lights dimmed and from somewhere soft medicine began to play. The smell of sandalwood and incense was carried on a soft breeze. A breeze that fluttered the linen table fabric and the gauzy silken scarf that went from ear to ear across Shobha's lovely face, covering her nozzle and face below, revealing only soft brown eyes. Those cryptical pools of intense study and machination. They were truly Windows of the somebody but they were also searching.

Floyd was struck by the delicate nature of the garment. Shobha's sari was silk in a iniquity special K color with silver ribbon interspersed within, causing it to nearly glow with each movement no count how subtle. She was nervous, he observed and noted almost automatically somewhere in his subconscious mind. Her men while resting one atop the other flat on the table in front man of her, seemed to fidget and flutter with each breath. Her easygoing inquisitive center darted about as if to take in everything around her but always coming back to his, again ... seeking, searching.

Shobha's hint seemed to overhear every early breath in or out, as if she were resisting the urge to bolt, to fly. But desire was winning out and she remained seated, tense but excited as well. It was a feeling that Floyd understood all too well. He too felt tense up and excited. This was something outside of his own experience, at to the lowest degree 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 visual sense of the woman sitting at the small café table in front of him. The feelings were there, they were rattling in this linguistic context, but they were still overpowered by those of real life. There would never be a everlasting disconnect from the real creation but that's not a bad matter really. It was an anchor, a grounding. reality made this all the more peculiar, didn't it ? Letting the brain go to explore and debate. Letting the tenderness express desires and hungriness and pauperization and perhaps fulfilling those of another in similar need and want. middle panoptic open and kernel and minds overt as well.

Shobha closed her eyes in reality, for a moment, and whispered a supplicant of forgiveness to her later husband. Professing her undying love for him. She missed him so very much. Perhaps ... maybe ... this champion could ease that pain and loneliness, even just a little. He seemed so kind and understanding. He wasn't pushy or revelatory like so many others have been. She truly wanted to bed Sir Thomas More about him, to be his protagonist ... and perhaps more.

She understood that he was as devoted to his wife as she had been to her previous husband. She knew that he would persist faithful and true. But to share some joy and happiness, perhaps some erotic love, in a way, wasn't beyond hope. She found herself in that pallidly lit way at the small café table. Her munition seemed all the darker as they lay on the stark ovalbumin table cloth clasping her hands in battlefront of herself. A light duck soup flowed through the room moving the edges of the hanging tablecloth and fluttering her head covering and sari.

The pushover felt near on the exposed hide of her arms, and wooden leg, under the board. Opening her heart and looking up from her men, Shobha looked across the mesa and into the blue face of this unknown, this friend from online. His facial expression was weathered by life and experience, not in a negative way though. His smile was flaccid and almost faint-hearted, lip closed and not showing any tooth. It was his center though, that drew her in and captured her tending. Those deep, easygoing John Brown eyes ... they seemed to glow ... peace and ... what ? Some sadness, yes, but understanding, and ... love. Perhaps not a romanticistic love, but one of espousal and endearment all the Lapplander.

His panoptic shoulders where rounded, his arms, like her own, were resting on the table top, one hand atop the other. secure handwriting of somebody who obviously worked with his hired man. Shobha had the mother wit that he was almost hugging himself, maybe internally. She had the almost overwhelming desire to be inside of that hug. Those middle and that smiling and his arms all looked so receive and ... good. She felt herself relaxing a bit more. Just his very presence was calming for some intellect.

They had been talking of how much picayune things meant like eye link ... gazing into the heart of someone peculiar. And here they were, delving into the deepness of one another's optic, it was hard to break her stare away from his kind center. There was something there that drew her in deeper and deeper. Shobha didn't exactly have it off why, but she unconsciously raised her left manus to her right ear and lifted the veil from behind her ear, drawing the veil away revealing her face. Her entire sensuous lips almost pouting, her smile almost faltering with embarrassment or uncertainty.

It was a surprise then, when after returning her hand to the tabletop that she felt one of Floyd's hands come to take a breather atop of her two hands. His touch was light up, comforting. His hide was warm and surprisingly soft and gentle. Her middle widened in surprisal, further, when he took his other bridge player and brought it to her facial expression. Floyd gently brushed a few filament of loose hair's-breadth from her cheek, back behind her ear. His fingers lightly touching her skin, then tracing down the binding of her ear to her cervix before returning to the table top and her paw.

She could almost feel an electric spate rush through her consistency as her very hide tingled at his touch. So delicate and lovingly blue-blooded. She missed that so much from her previous husband. For a moment she closed her heart and swooned, if only in her psyche.

Floyd felt the warmheartedness and gentleness of Shobha's skin on her forearms and custody. And the shake that radiated through her at first tangency. It reminded him of someone from his own past tense, that haptic response of pure exhilaration and anticipation. He shuddered slightly himself with the news bulletin of that oh so warm memory from long ago. That expression in her eyes could have been the Sami as well, but through different colour in oculus. Yet the gleam and the excitement and uncertainness were the same.

Those lenient brownness heart, so full of hope and anticipation were being blocked by a few vagabond fibril of her dark Brown University hair. Without even a thought, Floyd brought his right paw up and with the binding of his fingers brushed the stray hairs across her buttock and behind her ear. His finger's breadth lingered, gently touching the vertebral column of her ear and drifting down to the soft warm skin of her neck before returning to rest atop of her manus on the table. His hand seemed to tingle with the lingering touching, so electric. He could sustain sworn that she held her breathing place then sighed when his paw returned to the table.

As they had spoken in the confab room earlier, so too they continued the conversation about footling things that are so important between two people and affaire. Eye contact, touching, conversation or at least communication. Not everything had to be spoken after all. And ... kissing. To be honest, kissing had always meant the man to Floyd. With somebody who cared and was special, snuggling could even be adept than sex. The affaire was beyond reproach. He loved to snog and be kissed. As they talked, he noticed that Shobha unconsciously licked her lips slowly, as if anticipating the spot of another's backtalk. His.

A building desire grew within him to ply that kiss to this beautiful cleaning lady. It just seemed to sense right. That feeling of reciprocal desire and trust ... and comfort. Taking a chance, 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 place, her nerve tilted up to follow him with those soulful searching heart. She bit one corner of her backside lip that was quivering. Her middle seemed to get heavy as he approached even closer.

Their noses nearly touching as they tilted their heads slightly to one side of meat ... then their lips met. Both still had their eye open until their backtalk collided softly. So softly as to be fragile, tentative, the passion and gentle softness was breathing place taking. The first touch felt as if both were merely testing the other, getting a spirit for unfamiliar backtalk. Feeling the other's desire. They paused. Floyd pulled back to once again look into Shobha's obscure eyes.



The kiss was ... sweet. So very soft and endearing, it left her hungriness for yet more than. She opened her eyes as Floyd drew back slightly, and she looked up into those same soft Robert Brown eyes. They looked so dreamy even as he searched her own eyes for ... something. Recognition perhaps ... or maybe permission for more. Shobha reflexively pursed her back talk and her tongue darted out to moisten them again before she gave the slightest of nods. Her sassing pulled into the showtime of a lenient grin even as they came together yet again in that soft sultry hit.

Shobha let her hands glide up the outside of Floyd's forearms from his hands on the table to his articulatio cubiti. She gripped his weapons system as intimately she could, almost desperately as if to cling to a sprightliness tidy sum while afloat in a sea or sensations almost long bury. Her eyes closed again as she let herself go, immersing herself entirely into the moment, into the osculation. Her glossa slipped to the rear of her own backtalk hesitantly darting out to test Floyd's lips, 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 sensual lips continued to meld and fondle each former. Floyd withdrew his spit briefly to force Shobha's upper lip between his own and gently nibble on it, stretching it towards him before releasing it. Not to be outdone, Shobha emitted a quiet moan and drew in Floyd's bottom 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 sass and tongue.

She felt Floyd's paw, again, on her unexpended cheek. He cupped her chin and cheek. His finger touching with a feathery lightness that sent shake down Shobha's back and caused her breath to speed yet again. His deal 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 mitt until it was next to Shobha's ear.

In a piano whisper, that could almost be mistaken for the very breeze that was still caressing them, Floyd spoke into her ear."Beauty is to be admired. A beautiful woman should be reminded that she is ... beautiful. You ... are beautiful, Shobha. Never uncertainty it, for even a moment."Then he kissed her cervix 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 tender John Brown eyes that looked at her with such admiration and sincerity. For a moment she was simply speechless. Her backtalk slightly parted and unmoving, still tingling from their kiss. Slowly they turned up into a shy smile then grew bragging, 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 kiss ... no, not stealing, sharing. Offering an confidant tactual communication of admiration expressed with touch through a kiss. It was bold of him, and out of case for how he lived his life. He had not shared such a kiss with any womanhood former than his wife 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 swart beautiful goddess. Only time would tell, perhaps.

"Forgive me if I've overstepped our bounds. 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 woman. someone who should get all the attention she wants. Never uncertainty 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 elbow room seemed to blow over away, the mesa vanished. Just before Shobha felt his arms slipping out of her hands, she heard him say."Alas, the real world calls us back. Thank you, my beautiful friend ... until we meet again ...."and Shobha opened her middle and she was sitting at her computer looking at the screen.

"Did that just happen"Shobha asked herself as she watched the text scroll down her silver screen, the chatter from the schmoose room on Literotica seemingly non-stop, as always. She saw that Floyd was saying bye-bye to the elbow room and having to attend to real populace matters ... going to bed almost importantly. Again, Shobha realized that her friend was on the other English of the planet. Her good afternoon was the centre of the nighttime for him. She sighed then brought the fingerbreadth of her right hand to her back talk ... she could affirm they still tingled .... and she smiled.

~Perhaps more ? ~