Cupids Arrow

I don't think Cupid has any forethought or planned technique as to his love matching. Impishly he flies over a gathering of people, loads multiple arrows into his tiny bow, draws back and aiming high lets them fly. Then giggling mischievously, he watches as the little arrows of love rain down randomly on the prospective lovers...

Our eyes met for the briefest moments, his continued on, to scan the room, then returned to mine. Maybe he felt my gaze, maybe he liked what he saw, or maybe I was the only thing fairly interesting in the room at that time. His eyes stare straight back at me. They are so hard to read with the strobe light's flashing beams and the shifting of neon colored lights.

I kept looking over the crowd, but had singled him out from the rest of the crowded bar on the first pass. The group of men he was with was rowdy, drunk, overpoweringly noisy, and even with the pulsating beat of the loud music. He stood quietly leaning against the wall, proud, aloof, and just occasionally swigging a mouthful from the glass in his hand. He looked bored, a slight frown puckered between his eyebrows. Whenever the neon beams flashed, his eyes turned to slits against the glare, he defiantly was not enjoying himself. Seems out of his element, like fish out of water, which made two of us.

My workmates had convinced me to come out on the monthly work's night out. "Come on," They said, "it will be fun. You'll love it. It's a new come, try it." "Yea right." It was noisy, bouncing, hot, stuffy, and I was being ignored by my supposedly mates. I guess my face must have held a worse frown than his. I glance over to the exit, wondering if I could make my escape, but hanging near the door was my boss, eagle eyed Harry. He wouldn't let my escape go unnoticed. I would be taken into his office on Monday, and be given the "Were a team." lecture.

Swallowing the last mouthful of stout from my glass I make a beeline for the bar. Weaving through the throng of chatting groups, I head subconsciously towards the end of the bar closest to him. I use elbows and my shoulders to ease my way through the hovering crowd as they jabber noisily to each other. Their voices rose to bellows, just to be heard by there friends standing next to them. Leaning against the solid support of the bar, I wave my empty glass randomly in the air hoping to catch the busy eye of one of the overworked hassled bar workers.

A gentle nudge brushes my arm. Turning, I look straight into his dark eyes. He is breathtakingly handsome I get butterflies. The flashes of the strobe lights make it hard to define the true tone of his eyes. The vivid greens, yellows, and reds of the music's flashing lights danced within them keeping me transfixed. Long dark lashes curl away from his now humor filled eyes. He was laughing at my hypnotized gaze. Blushing I drop my eyes back to the bar counter. Through my peripheral vision, I watch as his arm holds out his empty mug and a bill note, as he joins my attempts to catch the eye of the bar staff.

"Too damn busy in here tonight, I hate these special nights. Can't get a bloody drink, a man could die of thirst." his voice carries in that low, but clear tone, with that masculine husky base. Not wanting to bellow, he had leaned close to my ear as he spoke, a thrill-filled shiver runs through my skin. Who is this man that after just a brief glance and a few off-handed words could cause this ripple of excitement in me? Turning to reply, I was too late, his empty glass stood on the bar. I scan through the throng surrounding me. Finally catching sight of his back as the exit door closes behind him.

"You're next, what do you want to drink?" I turn back to the bar my mind fighting to remember what I wanted. Stumbling out with the first drink I can think of, disappointment blurring any sane thought. Nursing the liquid I had received, I sip it occasionally. I stay lodged against the bar not caring as I get jostled, and nudged by the drink seeking people around me. The heavy beat of the music mixed with the drunken shouts and laughter make my head swim.

Overlaying all the pounding noise, was the cloying smell of humanity enmeshed together, cigarette smoke, sweat, alcohol, fresh and stale slopped beer trodden into the floor by many feet over the years. All mixed with various perfumes, aftershaves, the prominent overlay of all the intense smells of urine, and the toilet disinfectant. They try to conceal it with, but the two smells just mix together to make a more evilly sickly aroma. That wafted through the club every time the toilet door opened or closed.

The sudden urge to run out of the crushing noise which overwhelms me becomes too much. Angrily I shove my way through the crowd. Uncaringly, I push past my bosses annoyed stare. I force open the door and let it slam closed on the noise behind me, reducing it to a gentler, muffled roar.

I move away from the clubs steps, drawing in deep breaths of clear fresh air. The throbbing in my brain eases with every inhale. A heavy rain is falling and it feels so good after that club that I tilt my face up to the darkened sky reveling in the refreshing feel of the chilled droplets. A group of lasses hurried by as they, laugh, and chatter away as they swish past me on their way the club. Breaking the spell they make me aware that I was gazing up the heavens with my arms raised in supposition in a monsoon like down pour. No wonder the ladies had been giggling at the sight of me, beware the weirdo village idiot.

The street was deserted, peering through the gloom of the downpour, the dim streetlights reflect off the road's wet surface. Deep puddles are everywhere around as it must have been raining heavy since our group entered the club. An especially large puddle of rainwater had formed at the other side of the street disappearing into the gloom of the darkened shops doorways. I watch as the splashes of raindrops hit the surface of the puddle while my mind decides what to do now. I should go home, seems the obvious plan, but the thought of entering that flat alone did not appeal to me in the slightest.

A shifting of white movement catches my eye, and the muffled deep sound of a stifled cough makes me peer deeper into the darkened doorway. Then a shadowy figure steps forward, hair slicked against his forehead as the rain cascades in rivulets down his face, only to be lost in the widest cheeky grin. His once white shirt cling to his body as it shimmers in the wetness. He would get first prize in a wet T-Shirt competition if I were the judge.

His body is very well toned, the clingy cotton shirt shows a finely defined six pack, his trousers cling snugly to his legs. With hands stuck in his pockets, and shoulders hunched against the rain, he slopes his way towards me. His socks and shoes squelching with every soaking wet pace he takes. "You took your time, I've been getting a little damp waiting for you."

"I, I, I, didn't know that you were waiting." I stammer out.

"Well you do now."

All normal ability for the art of conversation betrays me as my brain empty of all thought. I stand there with my mouth open, struggling to regain the ability to form sounds, and all I come out with is, "You're gorgeous." Oh my god I said that out loud. Turning on my heels I spin off down the street. I rush away in my embarrassment, to remove myself away from him. Another pair of running footsteps is behind me and the splashes of water as he pounds through puddles to close the gap.

He touches my arm to still me as he finally catches up to me. "Where are you going? It's ok. Calm down. I am a handsome devil, thank you for the compliment." Quieter more concern in his voice this time he asks softly, "Where are you going? Are you ok?"

Not looking at him I reply, "Yes, I'm fine, just been a bad day, in a bad week, in a bad life. I'm just going home. I need some coffee."

"Great idea, I would love one."

Not looking up I just nod in response. No words were needed between us we slopped on through the pouring rain, as a companionable silence settles between us. It reaches out, feeling each other's need for company, as I steer the path homeward.

Unlocking the door we enter and as he stands there in the middle of the living room, dripping onto my carpet I sweep deeper into the flat. As I reemerge I toss a towel at him. "Strip off, I will stick your clothes through a quick wash and dry. Least I could do for making you stand so long in the rain." Then I say as I indicate the door to my right with tilt of the head "Jump in the shower there's a dressing gown on the door I will make us something to go with the coffee. Just make yourself at home."

"Okay." He starts stripping out of his clothes, right there in front of me. No sign of embarrassment shows as he throws each soggy item to me until the boxer shorts hit me full in the face. Laughing he throws the towel over his shoulders and saunters off to find the shower.

Busying myself in the kitchen, I sort his clothes into the washer, and rummage around the fridge. Looking at an almost empty fridge makes finding food more of a challenge, while the coffee gurgles away in the percolator. He emerges from the bathroom with just a towel around his waist, wisps of steam following close behind, like I want to be.

"I've left it running. It's hot. You're still damp. You need to get in there. Go, ill finish up here. I think I can find my way around a kitchen."

I hadn't even noticed that I was still in my own wet clothes. Nodding absently I head for the bathroom grabbing some nightwear of my own as I go. As I pass near he reaches out and traces his fingertips across my shoulder and smiles.

He had been busy while I was in the shower. The lights were dimmed, soft music was playing, the low sturdy coffee table had been moved up to the couch, and he had the food and coffee already on it. A bottle of unopened wine and two almost matching glasses stood ready.

I smile gratefully at him as I lower myself onto the couch next to him. Wanting to slide over and touch, leg to leg but trying to keep some distance as is proper. As we eat we chat, alternating between us as we tell our life stories. So similar in circumstances, both searching for someone or something to make our lives meaningful, but stuck in a boring rut of work, eat, and sleep.

The thoughts softened by the ambiance of the room, and the alcohol consumed, I drop into deeper confidential conversations. Telling him things such as my wants, my loneliness, and my growing need for companionship. I ease closer as we chat, leaning against his broad chest, I feel like I need his support or I will fall. His hands work gently as they massage my neck and shoulders, easing the stress from the taunt tendons and muscle with the firm tips of his kneading fingers. His warm, soft, gentle, and sensual caresses lull me into a blissful state.

I sigh deeply, "That feels so good, and you're great with your hands. I haven't felt so relaxed in a long time. " I cringe at my naive attempts to come on to him.

"If you lay down, over there on the rug by the fire, I could do your whole body." With a light tap on my shoulder, he says, "Well?" My body tenses up beneath his touch. Feeling the nervous twitch of my body, and reading it wrong, he laughs, and slaps me playfully. "Calm down. I am just offering a rub down." Shuffling out from next to me he rises. Grinning he takes my hands and pulls me to my feet.

As I stand I am so close to him that I can feel the heat from his body through the gown. My heart screams in my head for me to reach out and touch him. Feel the heat of his body under my fingers, the velvety texture of his tender flesh, and the swell of the muscles, and tendons. I want to run my fingers through the short wiry hairs on his chest, needing to tease the little hard nubs of his nipples with my tongue, and lips. My eyes are drawn up to his lips. Desire fills me to kiss the lips, push my tongue between them, seeking his.

My brain sadly out shouts my heart's desire, overpowering it with the sensibility that I have trained myself into excepting as right. I yank my gaze from his body I search for something to break the moment, giving me time to regain some semblance of composure. "There's oil in the bedside cabinet." Oh great, now there's no going back.

"Ok great, I'll get it while you get comfy down there. Be right back." Did I really not want this, or did I need this now. I've confused myself well. I could just go with the flow, see what happens, and blame it on the alcohol tomorrow. Lying down on the thick, soft rug, I start fidgeting until my body was just right, resting my head on my hands.

If he thinks, I'm going to let him leave it at a massage, he has a shock coming. I want him. My body wants him, and my brain has given up the fight. It has resigned itself to the fact that we were going to have him. Reaching out I tuck the few condom packs deeper under the rug. I didn't want him to get the wrong idea, yet.

The warm oil and the gentleness of his touch, combine as it glides over my body. Like liquid gold, leaving rippling sensations ebbing, and flowing in the wake of his sensual movements. His legs straddle my thighs. I can feel the straining of his leg muscles, rhythmically squeezing, and stroking me. His steady rocking motion of his body as his hands move up and down my back. Gently he grinds his pelvis against my buttocks and thighs. Only the thin cotton of his boxers is between his hot flesh and mine.

Pausing to raise the squeezable oil bottle to arms length above my body, he allows the oil to trickle from the small spout. Tiny rivulets swirl from the bottle as he paints intricate dribbles from my shoulders to the curve of my arse. The feeling of the luke warm tiny goblets of oil as they trickle and drip over my body, rolling, and scattering in various directions. Like microscopic insects wiggling, and scurrying, as they seek shelter in my crevices, and groves.

I allow a small, gentle moan pass my lips as one tiny oily rivulet oozes down the deep crevice of my cheeks. Its pace quickens as the grove descends around, and down until it finds its way blocked by my tightly compressed thigh muscles. There it sits, vibrating gently as more, and more droplets follow in its wake, creating a tiny pool of trembling slipperiness.

With the added oil spread over my body, his hands glide over me smoothly as he places them at the tops of my thighs. He slides both his hands with a firm thrust up and over the mounds of my butt. They continue to slide up either side of my spine, compressing the muscles in such a tenderizing and sensual way up to the nape of the neck. There both hands separate to push downward, across both shoulders, as they follow around my arms, and reaching so far forward that his chest lays along the length of my back.

His groin presses tightly against my cheeks, not pausing he reverses direction in a rowing motion as he pulls the muscles using his sliding body to lift up and away. This is repeated over and over again, turning my muscles into a mushy, relaxed putty as his body does exaggerated rowing motions on top of me. My head empties of thoughts as it fills with the heat of seductive sensations, my whole body is a set of tingling, twitching, muscles contracting and relaxing as his fingers kneed them into submission.

Mix with this the growing tendrils of desire, want, and lust that continue to build in both of us. His desire presses hard against me with every forward movement. Not able to contain my lust, I am so far past wanting to protect myself from embarrassment, my fingers grope under the rug finding one of the small packages. Holding it up, he pauses as his fingers brush against mine as he takes it from mine.

My heart races as I hear the wrapper being torn open. He moves gently off my legs, spreading them apart gently as he forces his knees between. I hold my breath eagerly awaiting the first plunge. Instead of receiving his eager thrust I feel the teasing stroke of his tongue. Hot and slick across my lower back. Gently he teases a path over my buttocks, his touch making the nerves twitch with sensitive pleasure.

His hands caress my arse cheeks, firmly squeezing, and kneading. The tongue tickles and flicks its way down the crease, drawing gasps of moans from me. Fingers grip my cheeks, pulling them wider apart until his tongue finds the puckered goal it was seeking. His skillful tongue draws rasping, ragged breaths of rapture from my throat, as his fingers join the probing and stroking as they seek other sensitive, sexual areas to nibble or suck on.

The fingers continue to probe and pull at my tender flesh, teasing me until my need is so strong I gasp out for him to take me. His mouth kisses its way up my body, so gently I hardly feel the pressure of his lips my body. So hot with passion that his lips feel cool as they barely touch me, but I do feel the warmth of his hot breath as it passes over my skin. Like the gentle passing of a butterfly's wing, the soft vibration of his voice murmurs in my ear soft, tender words that wrap themselves around my pounding heart.

"Now I take you."

I spread my legs wider arching my hips into the air, offering him easier access. All the while I desperately show my eagerness for him and his hard shaft. He probes gently as the large swollen head eases into me. Holding the throbbing head motionless just buried inside me. His teeth nipping on the nape of my neck, nibbling their way round to the sensitive tender skin covering my jugular. Then he sucks gently at the thin muscle membrane covering the throbbing vein as he pulls the flesh into his mouth.

The rhythm of the blood coursing through me, unbearable hunger pulsates in me. I want him so bad. Need burning inside me, I thrust back on him, taking him deep and fast into me. Guttural groans of pleasure emitting from me as he matches me thrust, for lovely thrust. Lifting his body's weight off me so that I can rise up onto my hands and knees our body's matched in perfect rhythmic motion. The pace increases or decreases as the pressure of our passions dictate. These long hard thrusts are driving each of us towards our mutual end.

The passion builds as he loses control of his tenderness, the animal urges surface within the snarl of his grunts. He pounds deep and penetrating. My own gasps of exhilaration are in unison as we reach our climatic release.

My heart skips a beat, surprised at the wondrous sight of him sleeping so peacefully on the pillows of my bed. One arm is thrown out with twitching fingers that are flexing in the early morning light. The other held with the covers pulled up tight, wrapped around him in his deep, peaceful sleep of serenity.

I had gently slip from the covers for a while, eager to please him with the surprise of a breakfast, but I remain caught in the trance if watching him sleep. The thought of breakfast had vanished as passionate flashbacks of our sexual pleasure invade my head. Filling my body with desire for more of the fingers as they flex again, drawing my gaze to them those fingers that had shown me such gentleness. They took me so skillfully to sexual heaven slowly my eyes draw back to his face. His eyes are open, so clearly awake watching me intently.

"Coffee is ready." my voice is husky with need, my body trembles in yearning for this man. "I think the coffee had better wait." his gaze had dropped down my naked body to below my waist, the evidence of my need standing erect and proud before him. Throwing back the covers, off his body, his own desire stands as erect and proud of his masculinity as mine.