You saw it the headline first, this week, Pam has picked a quote from the witty-as-fuck Oscar Wilde. So without any more rambling, here's this week's quote from The Picture of Dorian Gray:
You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.
This should be a fun one. Go get 'em, tigers.
Untitled because I'm lazy.
Comments: Sure! Thanks for reading.
“I should have rewatched The Real Office Shenanigans of Ohio.” She grousled to herself from the back of her closet.
After watching one of those viral home organization tv programs she was compelled to dive headfirst into decluttering, finally saying goodbye to things she hadn’t touched in years.
Some things were easy to get rid of. Broken and outdated electronics went into a recycle pile, old textbooks from college (Go, Woodchucks!) went to a thrift store pile even though no one wants to read them, and paperwork to be shredded.
Into the donation pile went clothes that never fit right in the first place but she was too lazy to return to the store. She looked at the sales tags on many of the clothes, prices still clearly marked, and burned with shame at the waste of money.
Blindly reaching farther back into the closet, her hand connected with a fabric that even sight unseen she knew exactly what it was. In some way, she had both been dreading and looking forward to this moment.
This was the dress.
Short enough to be a little flirty, with tiny straps that made her bony shoulders somehow look alluring, and buttons down the front that stirred the imagination. It was just the right shade of blue that her eyes looked like they glowed in the summer sun.
This multitasking piece of clothing not only sparked joy like a basket of biscuits, but brought a side order of regret along with it.
Not a soul pointed out that she wore the dress over and over on that spring break trip. Even if there had been sidebar commentary, it would haven’t mattered because Antonio liked it.
Antonio flirted with her mercilessly. From the swim-up bar to the oceanside cabana, Antonio would appear and make her feel like the most beautiful girl in the world. She shyly returned his attention as best she could in her stumbling way, but knew his job at the resort probably would have something to say about this flirtation.
She really liked him. But when the late night chat beside the pool turned into an invitation for something more physical, she hesitated. All the warnings about “what not to do on spring break” flooded her mind and she panicked.
She returned to her room alone, but sleep wouldn’t come until after she’d rehashed the conversation 800 times. Nobody ever talked about the regret of “what might have been” as one of the dangers of spring break.
The dress went back into the closet. She would always be fond of that dress. It represented all the sins she never had the courage to commit and was a promise to not be so afraid of making mistakes.
But one mistake she would not make was trying to see if the dress still fit.
"This multitasking piece of clothing not only sparked joy like a basket of biscuits, but brought a side order of regret along with it."
Nice! Great story. Thanks for keeping us going this week! I was too busy editing to get any words out.
@Alexander Nader thank you for reading! I'm always the last (I think last week I posted at like 11pm on Sunday haha) -- I've never been the first before haha. This week was one for the record books for sure, but we'll find our stride later. Best of luck with your editing!
"I have never done this kind of thing before," she uttered as she buttoned up here shirt. I wasn't there to judge. Maybe she had. Maybe she hadn't. It didn't matter either way. She wanted to do it again, and the question was if her desire or parson would win the debate.
She had laid there long after the last hoorah, snuggled up in my arms. She had spent her last drop and enjoyed the calm after, as much as she had the enduring storm. I only count when there is a record to be broken, and we had gone far past her previous 3.
That part is only partly on me. It is mostly how much she can relax and enjoy herself. Before anything else, her mind has to know, no matter what, I am not here to judge, not some physical i perfection I might find, not some less accepted thing she wants to try, and certainly not that she had chosen to indulge her desires on the first night.
The female form is creation's greatest work of art. Each is unique, but the curves are so well placed. The bed was but a place to worship that beauty, to explore every inch with hand and tongue, the perfectly smooth skin, the tremors that whipped through her body, as she gave in to her own desires at my touch.
Her first was the challenge. Her body had still battled her mind, to give in to carnal desire or shake off these sinful lusts. She had stopped me more than once, only to ask for a restart. "I never do this kind of thing," she would say before pulling my hand back to where she had stopped me.
The game was being played in her own mind, between a lifetime of church services and these moments of pleasure. I just followed her thought at the moment, desire winning a little more each time, finally, gently sliding my finger inside, massaging lightly, until she let her juices flow.
Her body was saying yes and with each smooth move her mind resisted less. I watched her every move to learn exactly which spot felt best, finding each one, then others, moving between, then simultaneously all the best, as her resistance to her own desires gave out. Her first was long and hard. Her body had overcome her mind. The resistance had intensified the result.
Her first sin complete, her mind fought little as the second came and now my mouth got fully engaged. I tasted every place my fingers had traced, breasts, ribs, and thighs, as my fingers still played. She knew where my tongue would seek, and wanted it find its target.
Her mental resistance had intensified the first. Anticipation had her overdue for the 3rd. It soaked my goatee in a wave, and after it washed over I move to the next hot spot, barely a pause before the 4th, this one not missing a drop. My hands returned to full play as I began hitting 3 spots at once, resisting her pulls to come up, for long.
Three had been her record, and if she wanted to count beyond, it was on her. She had.tasted her own delight and they came in waves now, hard for me tell where one ended and the next began. We had rolled about, from position to position until i was soaked from head to toe. Count was was lost and a I had given in to her pleas to enter her in the biblical sense.
She pulled me up for a kiss, then, as we looked deep in the others eyes, I guided myself in. Her eyes widened at the tip. I had sucked up every drop so far. I paused as her body relubricated, then slowly went further, feeling the tightness inside as her eyes widened to reflect the new depths.
A slow retreat was followed by a speedy return, velocity increasing as her body lubed up. I picked her up as I kicked my legs off the side of the bed, still within her, laying her back down, her butt slightly off the side.
I alternated. speed until I could feel her body ready to explode again, and this time released, with her. Both of us spent, we crawled back to the center, and she laid her her head on my shoulder. "Was it good for you?"she asked in sincerity. "Certainly,"" I replied, "and you?" I already knew the answer. "Oh, yes," came in a gush. We lay there relishing the fruits of our sinful ways, before her preacher got back in her head.
Quickly dressing, she reminded me she didn't normally do such things. I assured her it was not mine to judge, that i was available if she wished to do so again. Already the preacher in her mind was winning the fight again, but her body wasn't ready to give up its desires.
After a long kiss, I said: "You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit. Come back and let's commit them again." Her eyes flashed a yes, before her mind rushed her out the door. https://www.facebook.com/The-Tempted-103196704766487/?__tn__=kC-R&eid=ARCxFZVV9k-RJI2BOobDHaSTQxQCr671_2J-JVWh9cspIZDzTrzorjMMAG8mZdKmG1UwuG4iBGnkLQJq&hc_ref=ARSQOaYemlPTV866L2ZHKIprZRLdZCvL1v0lBAAuX0IuCnSds5fPjtit3w3gcT2Z6nU&fref=nf&__xts__%5B0%5D=68.ARAq2tbToo7IypwRj7vrFdBGCON_MmT1Ssjj-dLvaqnZCMRUpdzFSn98L4q6RBjbG-S00wZQzcZgCAvbLWjHb193lVaQwvNEI39A85D9OmRQhf6-Py_ARW43hqfHD_td0gT_JVNbjoQDGBE3l2S1McUrIQ1UhdAGl5BnCbWmO4USjbJxXQCbfQxULXEfs0Q2ACpMzzcbC5Q2Ta8OIPXcnkHTEQKxPIj8hoV9pRlt8ON8l96cqy-lWsRDDp2qrDgr62pAXGaU1OBiSmpHIuAZNqQSK7eFd0HaiyspN97PWO6SS6U_SidEYiMKHxq0mNA0FQMYUrT-dIV8QFRnx7M