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The Stages of Love
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
The Stages of Love
Part 1: The Fantasy
Your friend told you it was supposed to be a birthday party. You
know you didn't want to be there, crowds of people were the last thing
you needed. Noncommittedly you nod and smile your way through the
crowd to stand against the wall. You see him sitting across the room,
and your eyes are suddenly riveted to that spot.
Blonde curls frame a well-chiseled jaw. Highly defined cheeks
support eyes so blue you could almost see the whole room clearly
reflected in pools of clear water. His shirt frames broad shoulders
that Atlas could be jealous of, with a chest you know you would be
hard pressed to get your arms around. His jeans, you notice, hide
nothing. You wonder why he isn't arrested for sporting a basket that
Little Red Riding Hood couldn't lift. He is a god. So perfect you
know he has to be either stupid or an asshole. What is his name? Is
he single? It doesn't matter what the answers are, though, because
you know you are hooked. Another pretty face has walked in and you
have fallen. Is he diffrent than others? Does he realize what a man
he is, or does he possess modesty with everything else? If he has an
I.Q. over 50 you know there is no justice.
You can't even get up the guts to go talk to him, introduce
yourself. You can see it in your mind, know your mouth works, can
even feel the strength in his handshake, but your feet won't move. So
all you end up doing is going home, unfulfilled, alone.
You go on with your daily life but that face, hell, that body
floats through your mind every chance you pause. Could your friend
clue you in to who it is? Probably, and a whole lot of other dirty
details. Your friend knows who you're talking about right off the
bat. The stud's name is Mark. He just recently broke up with his
lover of two years. Stupid mistake on the lover's part as far as
you're concerned. Mark doesn't go out much, so there isn't a lot to
say about him socially. He did ask about you though. Asked for your
number just the other day.
Now you are on Cloud Nine. He asked for your number! He wanted to
call you! What a feeling! This could be something! He's smart from
what people say, sounds secure, and is handsome beyond your wildest
dream. You wonder what he will say when he calls, what his voice
sounds like. Does he have one of those deep voices that tickles your
ear every time he wispers your name? You know, the kind of voice that
makes your dick stand up just when he tells you what he wants to do.
You close your eyes and you can almost feel those arms, gentle
strength pushing the tension out of your back. Subtle hands that
massage your cares beyond the mind, focusing you on the moment.
Ahhhh....the moment when his lips gently graze the back of your neck,
like a gentle breeze that carries you across oceans of time. You see
how your bodies fit together so well, moving as one. THe passion can
sweep through you again and again like the tides, lifting and falling
til all that remains is you and him. All that remains, you and him.
Sigh. If he calls.
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