tagRomanceA Break From Reality

A Break From Reality


Amy picked up the phone at her job and visibly shivered when she heard who was on the other end. It was one of the other auditors from a local hotel, and every time she talked to him, she could just hear the wanton sensuality dripping off his low voice. She smiled to herself, wishing for the zillionth time that he wasn't married.

"Hello, hot Ron," she purred. She had been calling him hot Ron for months now, because she and another employee always gave in to talking about his hotness, and Ron didn't seem to get too offended by it.

Ron was unbelievably sexy, and one of the more attractive things about him was that he didn't even seem to know it. She was ridiculously attracted to him, and often got wet just thinking about him. The amazing thing about Ron was that he was beautiful both inside and out. Even more attractive than his sexy voice, charming smile, and washboard abs, were his sense of humor and his personality. Hot Ron had deep, dark eyes that shone with a fierce intensity that gave her trouble breathing when she looked into them for too long. She had trouble believing that this intensity could be matched by anything, but she knew it came from one place, where it was both matched and surpassed. The only place she knew she could find equal intensity was in his soul. His sexual energy and power flowed freely from his core, his center of being.

This was because Ron was comfortable with himself. He made no pretenses about anything, and he'd always laid his cards flat out on the table. His utter honesty and acceptance of himself were the source of his energy and passion. Shockingly enough, Amy found herself wanting both his body and his mind.

"Hey hot Ron, what are you doing in the morning?" she asked him casually, not understanding how her voice came out so calm and even when she was breathing heavily just from hearing his voice. When he told her he didn't have any plans, she got even more excited.

"You feel like smoking a joint after work?" she asked him. He told her that of course he did, and they exchanged good-byes and hung up the phone. After that, the night couldn't go by fast enough.

She saw his car pull up in the carport just as the next shift came in to relieve her. She waited for her relief to count the drawer, and ran out to meet him. He briefly got out of his car to hug her, and she felt a familiar surge of heat when she felt the muscles in his chest pressing up against her breasts.

Amy rolled the joint while Ron drove. They listened to her one of her favorite songs, which was called "Memories." It had ambient beats, haunting melodies, and lyrics that she identified with. In the first verse, the lyricist sang:

"Like a memory

I want to be on your mind.

Like a melody

I want you to sing me.

I want, with every thought

For you to consume me.

And, with every breath

I want you to..........."

Amy suggested that they sit and smoke somewhere, rather than driving around like they usually did. So Ron headed for the Mohegan Park Rose Garden, and they arrived in minutes. They got out of the car, and walked through the entrance to the park. Walking into the rose garden was like stepping into another realm. It was early May, and all the roses were in bloom. The scenery was breathtaking. The ground was covered in a thick, lush carpet of grass, and the trees in the park provided ample shade dappled with sunlight. There were rosebushes of myriad types and colors, and their enchanting scent wafted over to tickle Amy and Ron's olfactory senses. They were the only two people in the park, and they sat under an arched trellis to smoke.

The smoke curled up from the joint, making wispy patterns that wove in and out of the rose vines that were growing through the lattice. Ron sat cross-legged while Amy lay back, propped up on her elbows.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, enjoying both the peaceful, tranquil atmosphere of the rose garden, and also the effects of the cannabis. Amy looked over at Ron, who was now reclining like her. He had his eyes closed, and the sunlight made speckled patterns on his face. He looked ridiculously appealing, just lying there in peace, with a serene expression on his handsome features. She wanted to reach out and touch him: his face, his hand, his shoulder, anything. But he was married, and she wasn't sure how he'd react. She wasn't even sure how she would react if she could touch him - once she started, she probably wouldn't be able to stop. She thought about how gratifying it would be to stroke his neck or caress his chest. She wanted to feel his bare torso under her hands. She yearned to see all of him, and smell him, and touch him. She craved the feel of his dick in her mouth. She imagined that there could be nothing sexier than the taste of him on her tongue. She wanted to use her tongue to explore his whole entire body.

Amy shook her head, trying to clear her mind, wary of the dangerous direction her thoughts were taking her. She looked over at Ron again, and noticed that his eyes were now open, and he was watching her intently.

"Are you okay?" he asked her, and she simply nodded.

"I'm just lost in my own little world," she told him. He shrugged and closed his eyes again, and Amy wondered if he knew how much she'd like to worship his body. She kept thinking about all the things she wanted to, but couldn't do to him. She wanted to undress him slowly, at her leisure. She wanted to loosen his tie, open his shirt collar, and slowly unbutton his shirt. She wanted to run her hands all over his chest, over his stomach, and underneath his waistband. She longed to undo his fly and release his cock from the confines of his pants. She wished she could run her tongue around his ears and neck, lick his nipples, stomach, and navel. She wanted to lick a trail from his belly down to his dick. She yearned for the chance to use her mouth to bring him to orgasm, and then swallow all of his come. She wished she could let him know that she'd do anything at all to please him.

Amy glanced quickly at Ron, and when she saw that his eyes were still closed, she lost herself again in thoughts of just how she'd like to make use of her mouth. She imagined teasing him, licking just the head of his erection, almost painfully slowly, before taking all of him into her mouth. She pictured herself using her lips and tongue to caress the entire length of him, from the base of his cock to the tip. She wanted to surround him, envelop him with the wet softness of her mouth, using her tongue to encircle the head of his cock. She yearned for the chance to flick her tongue just under the head of his beautiful dick, on that little rough spot, which she imagined would make him shiver. She longed to tickle his scrotum with the tip of her tongue, and suck his heavy balls into her mouth, one at a time. She wanted to lick the sensitive area underneath his balls, between his scrotum and his anus. She pictured herself pausing and removing her mouth from his swollen cock, positioning her pussy directly over him, then staring right into his dark, soulful eyes as she sat down quickly, sheathing him in soft heat in one swift thrust. Then she imagined lifting herself off and taking him back into her mouth, tasting herself on his dick. She hungered for the taste of him, wanting to feel his hard smoothness pulse under her intent tongue. She pictured herself sucking as hard as she could; trying to take all of him in her mouth, wanting to deep throat him because she imagined he'd like it. She imagined she could bring him absolute pleasure with her hot mouth. She wished she could temporarily stop time, focus all her energy on his orgasm, coax his come out with her lips, and swallow every last drop. She pictured herself looking up at him in the moment of truth, and staring into his eyes, which were burning with intense heat, and feeling like they were the only two people in the world.

Amy looked over at Ron, whose eyes were still shut, and imagined all the things she wanted him to do to her. She imagined him trailing his fingers in a lazy pattern over her belly and through her pubic hair. She pictured him slowly parting her lips and gently caressing her soft, pink inner lips with the tip of his index finger. She wanted him to feel how wet she was, just from thinking about him. She wished he would play with her breasts, suck on her nipples, and lick slow, sinewy trails all over her chest. She craved the feel of his strong hands on her flesh, stroking her butt and rubbing her thighs, kneading her and preparing her for what was still to come. She longed for the feel of his patient, probing finger penetrating her, purposefully working its way in and out of her wetness. She wanted to watch him lick her taste off his fingers. She wished he would tell her how sweet and creamy her pussy tasted to him. She pictured him going down on her; sucking her clit with fervor. She imagined his agile tongue lapping up all of her honeyed fluids, and she visualized those juices running down his chin. She yearned for the feel of his cock embedded deep inside of her, coaxing her to new levels of ecstasy with every thrust. She craved the feeling of him turning her around, grabbing her thighs, and fucking her doggystyle, the way he somehow knew that she liked best. She longed to take control, push him onto his back, straddle him, and ride him with abandon. She wanted him to feel her urgent need for his body only, and in that earth shattering moment when the ground, water, sky, and all the forms of life in the park, including the two of them, seemed to be connected in the neverending cycle of Gaia, she wanted to stare into his dark gorgeous eyes, and simply glow in the miraculous aftermath of spectacular sex.

His voice interrupted her carnal thoughts, and she was immediately whisked back to reality. "We should get going," he told her. "My wife might call the house and wonder where I am." Subdued by the harsh reality of real life, she agreed, and they rode back to her car in silence.

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