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Subject: {ASSM} Like a moth in a streetlight (m/f romantic)
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Date: Sat, 21 Aug 2004 21:10:04 -0400
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Like a moth in a streetlight

Moths were starting to flutter up into the streetlights, when she finally
decided that she had had enough of her own company and slipped out of her
apartment for some fresh air.  Tessa liked the dusk: she could disappear into
the shadows and watch the world going by. 

Tonight her agenda was people watching. She would just sit on the terrace of
first floor apartment and check out who was going where - or at least where she
imagined they were going.  In the distance, at the end of her road she could
see so many people rushing by - the end of the rush hour - work to home, home
to work - the never still city traffic, its steady rumble giving background to
her thoughts.  

"Hey Tessa, give it to me!"

That familiar sounding yell disrupted her plans, but she smiled despite this.
Then, carefully calculating the impression that she would make on him, ensuring
that she was almost frowning when she looked over, She turned her head to one
side and saw her neighbour waving at her from his balcony.  

Nick Fleddor was a guy who kept himself to himself, by and large.  He was quite
disorganised though and always rushed off to shops five minutes before closing
time, inevitably meaning that he could never get all that he needed.   

"Give you what, Nick?"

"A little of your loving"

"And I thought you were just out of milk again."

"Why?"

"Because you always are. I make sure that I keep extra by, you know, to give
you succour in your times of need."

"Will you suck me when I need you to then, Tessa."

"That's a bit rude, Nick," she frowned again, but forgave him almost at once
for his winsome dark looks. She loved his neat salt and pepper hair.  She loved
his dark brown eyes that seemed to devour her when he looked at her. "Anyhow,
why would you need me?"

"To provide me with groceries of course."

"Beast!"

"I can be as beastlike as you need me to be..."
 
She stuck out her tongue at him and screwed her face into a pout but said
nothing.

" --Because you are the sexiest --and I love sex."

"Don't I know it already!"

"And you don't love sex?"

"I don't right now."

"Why don't you try to love me again, Tessa?"

"Maybe I'm tired of love."

"So you don't need a man?"

"Not really, right at this moment," she smiled gently and bowed her head down
deliberately, to look at her magazine.  He watched her reading, admiring her
smooth auburn hair and wanting her to look up across at him, with those big
hazel eyes that he had come to adore.

Tessa flicked over the pages, resisting the temptation to look up and over at
him.  She read the same paragraph of the article on the page over and over
again, waiting for the metallic click of his shoes down the stone steps of his
apartment block, the crunch of gravel under his feet and then the touch of
metal to wooden stairs as he climbed up the stairs to join her on her balcony.

"Senorita," he whispered in her ear.

"Si, senor," she responded softly, turning her head to one side and looking up
at him, waiting for him to touch her arm. "Que quieres?"  
 
"I want company. I'm a long way from home right at this moment."

"And where is home tonight, Nick?"

"Far, far away across the Atlantic ocean."
 
"Europe? My - how imaginative."

"Yes. I am a teller of tales with a magnificent --" he smiled and watched her
mouth back at him 'imagination'.  "I love our games, Tessa, but most of all --"
 

"Yes, Nick?"

"I love you."
 
"Me? But I don't want to love to every European novelist who importunes me."

"I do what I do. Don't you envy such freedom?" 

"I like intelligence, wit and sensuality."
 
"Tha's me!" Nicholas slurred deliberately and pulled up a chair, so that he was
sitting between her and the street.  I leant across the table between them,
planting his elbows on the table and placing his hand on her arm.  His face was
in shadow with the halo of the streetlight. She squinted to make out his
features, as he gazed fondly across at her face.  "We can be so many things --"
 
"Oh yeah?"
 
" --But our biggest thing is..."
 
"Ut oh." 

" --Our shared pleasures." 

"Phewff," Tessa sighed in mock relief.  "That is always a good start"
 
"Tonight I am a writer --a poet," he smiled. "I may be unknown in New York,
but, of course, I am renowned across the entire Iberian peninsular."  

"Of course," she looked up at him, curiously, "and what do you write?" 

"Poetry, short stories, erotica -- I have almost completed my first novel.  I
have been working on it for a year despite all the set backs." 

"Do you mean the time you left the first four chapters on 'el tren', senor?"

"Yes, it was fortunate that you were there to shout after me and save me from
my own folly."

"Milk, bread, eggs, novelettes, what is the difference, senor?"

"Novel please! Do not diminish my efforts."

"A thousand pardons, senor," she bowed her head.

"But, it is all, how you say, grist to my mill, Tessa." 

"Your mill is very impressive and your grist is delicious," she licked her lips
and giggled again.
 
"Being a senor Tessa, I also write and grind in Spanish."

"That's even more impressive - two tongues can be so much better than one," she
replied flirtatiously. 

"And with such a lascivious smile, Senorita Tessa, I could almost describe
exactly how you feel now, deep as you are."
  
"Deep - me!" 
 
"Yes, indeed. I have sensed your depths and not just the intellectual ones!"
 
"Am I food for your next erotic novel?"
 
"Possibly."
  
"Lucky me." 

"No me!"
 
"You wish."
 
"I wish for you - most certainly."
 
"Sweet dreams are made of these --"
 
"Who am I to..." he began. 
 
" --Have sweet dreams?" she finished pertly.
 
"My dreams are always sweet," he pouted, "Always, but never wet though." 

"Ah something to distinguish you from a teenager at last!"

"Witch!"

"Ugh - a moth just tried to creep up my skirt," she started and pushed her
chair back, as if making to get up.

"No, those were my fingers, fluttering against your thigh.  In any case, if it
were a moth, could you blame the creature?" He laughed.
 
"It is not for me to blame - just discourage."

"Discourage the moths by all means, but do not discourage me, okay?"
 
"Do I prefer you to moths, Nicholas?"
 
"This senor would be flattered despite the comparison."

"That was a question not an offer, senor. I come from a good family of ancient
lineage and silken mantillas, you should know, with a plentiful supply of
butter in the kitchen." 
 
"I'm flattered that you prefer me over the moth, whatever your ancestry."
 
"You have low esteem?"
 
"Of course not!"
 
"Or you honour moths?"
 
"My ego comes third in size, behind imagination and penis."

"A bronzed ego is preferable to a golden penis I think," Tessa laughed and then
tilted her head up to his face, looking quite serious, " though I am quite sure
you are very virile."

"You have only to remember sleeping with me in our cabin seeking the treasure
of Sierra Madre."

"I thought it was the Treasure of the Tessa Madre, senor?" She pouted. "At
least you seemed to enjoy the treasure you found buried in the sands of my
boudoir.

"One treasure is much the same as another to a brigand like captain Nicco
Fedoro."

"Just as one hat is much the same to a slattern like Tessa Fedora?"

"I want to do such things with my sweet slattern, no matter what her taste in
hats."
  
"What do you want to do with me? Do you have any special suggestions for
Tessa?"
 
"Perhaps I do."
 
"Will you entertain me with them or just sit there looking coy?" 
 
"Would you dine with me tonight in this Spanish Tapas bar?" He pointed down to
the white plastic table between them and waved his hands around vaguely as if
conjuring up a bar on a street corner, bright lights shining out over the
darkening street scene.
   
"On the terrace?"

"Of course. Just you, me and the moths," he laughed holding his hand to her
face and waggling his fingers an inch or two from her eyes.

"Are the moths hungry?" 
 
"They will feed under the table. They will touch you lightly between courses."

"Oh my! What will the waiters say?" 

"Your skirt will stay in place."

"My veneer of modesty will protect me then?"

"But not your flimsy undergarments, Tessa."
  
"Mr Fleddor, you are such a wicked man. Thank goodness it is a warm night!"
 
"I would part your legs and leave you on tenterhooks there while I finish my
desert," he tugged at his imaginary moustache and leered at her with a loud
'Ha! Ha!' for effect.

"My flimsies in your pockets?"
  
"Certainly, as you would wish...On second thoughts, Senorita Tessa, I will make
sure you were my desert and lick you from head to toe."

"If I was a desert I would be a delicious pastry, hot and trembly at the idea
of your touch."
 
"I will finger your moist filling, while I lick and suckle your well crimped
edges," he smiled, raising his hand to her hair and unclipping the butterfly
clasps. He lifted them from her head and held them in his hands, slowly
bringing them across to his side of the table. "Look the moths are leaving in
disgust."

"Then there will be more pastry just for you alone."

"I need it after that dreadful Manchega cheese.  I will not nibble your toes
before you have a bath again, my dear."

"OH! You rotten --"

" --Despite all your lascivious caresses and precious imprecations I will never
be tempted again --"

"Never?"

"Well, not until next time...which is now!"

Nick pulled Tessa up from her chair and pulled her onto his lap: "Tessa?"

"Yes?"

"Can I take you?"

"Right here?"

"Yes."

"You have discarded your dessert spoon."

"I will eat you with my hands."

"That's very primitive and carnal of you, senor." 
 
"I am savage --savagely tender --and you --you are succulently tender."

"Mr and Mrs S. Tender"
  
"You want marriage already?"

"Steal my innocence without even the offer of a ring, would you?" 
 
"I would plunder you with all my lustful force!"

"Cruel Captain Nicco."

"Yet satisfying, senorita."
 
"For whom?" 
 
"For me first of course, Tessa." 

"You like savagery? 
  
"Only if it is requested."
 
"Requests by the poor yet refined maiden: intelligent yet put upon.
Ingratiating her way into his society?"
  
"Well put."
 
"You do the putting, sir."
 
"I like to make gentle love...first time...
 
"Under Tapas bar tables?" 

"Until you get used to my length and girth."
 
"Oh no! Not the golden penis again!"

"It is all yours for this Olympiad."
 
"Will you train me to take it all in the finals?"
 
"Not all can."

"To the 'victress' the spoils."

"If you swallow, then nothing will be spoilt."

"Or spilt?"

"A beautiful banquet just for you."

"It would be bad manners to spill it or spoil it then, sir?"

"Your civility is making me hard, Tessa."

"My civility may become servility before you finally surrender to your savage
nature, Senor Nicholas."

"Te gusta mamar?" 
  
"Sorry. What is 'mamar'?"
 
"Suck --my --cock...please," he pushed her off his lap and released his turgid
sex from his pants.

"But, it is so big," she smiled happily and bent her head down towards it. 

"All the more for you to lick and stroke," he said, leaning back and watching
her apply her lips to his member. "Tell me you don't like it?"

"Should I not like what I lick?" She said, releasing him from her mouth for a
moment.
 
"You should love it," he groaned as she flicked the head of his prick with her
tongue.

"Tempting you is exciting," she smiled.

"Feel me in your mouth. Make me cum."

"I should not make you more lusty," she teased, "after all I am a good girl,
even if you would fill me with impure thoughts."

"I would fill you with my raging cock." 
 
"Good girls do bad and naughty things though," she tapped the shaft of his cock
pensively.
 
"That wicked smile on your lips is quite unbearable, Tessa." 

"Should my lips continue with their act of public indecency then?"

"Please!"
 
"If I massage your sausage, will this help, sir?"
 
"Chew my chorizo?"

"The very spicy same, sir -- but I will take care not to mark you permanently."


"That is good and it is --a beginning, but I need more," he stood up and pulled
her face to his groin, taking control of her head by tangling his hands in her
hair. "I need to be inside you."

"The crown of that penis inside me?"
 
"Yes."

He raised her up and drew her back into the shadows, lifting her into his arms
and carrying her into the bedroom, pulling up her skirts and he deposited her
on the bed. She could feel his hands on her hips: hips that would soon hug his
thighs like a glove, as the first inches of that stiff manhood slowly
disappeared inside her. 

Nicholas pressed down onto the bed, adding his weight to hers. He pushed
against her exposed sex with his virility.  In his eagerness, he took his cock
in his hand and let her take his weight for a while as he stroked himself to
full hardness.  She sighed as he pressed down onto her spreading her thighs,
eager for his entrance.  She wanted him to tug her legs over his shoulders, to
crush her form under his powerful, muscled body. She wanted him to take her
treasure, to expiate his need as she whispered encouragement under him.

"Fuck me, Nicholas," She demanded, pulling him into her.  "Do it now."

He slid into her feeling her clinging wetness so reminiscent of the soft mouth
that had surrounded his cock outside.  He looked down at those hazel eyes
staring up at him, as he slid his full length into her.  She held her breath,
deliberately tightening her muscles, so that she felt tighter for him and he
felt even bigger for her.

"Your mouth --your cunt --Tessa."

"So full, Nicholas, so full of you. The cock is so big; the balls so full of
cum."

Tessa could feel him on the verge, holding herself still, knowing that any
movement would take him over the edge, thinking ahead to how she would bring on
a resurgence of his excitement by thanking him for giving her so much sperm
later and by kissing his 'handsome' cock before he slipped to her kitchen to
take the milk and the butter that he would have inevitably forgotten.  And
through the lazy whirl of her thoughts, his voice came: a soft, masculine
groan: "Um, tell me more!" 

"Tell you, Nicholas, or give it to you?" 

And then she remembered: her words were his words; his imagination was hers. 

He knew this, as he pressed down into her. He held still above her in the
instant before satisfaction, in the moment before he pressed home deep into her
captivating body. And then he felt the release - his heart fluttered,
captivated, like a moth in a streetlight.
T
Good women are never remembered in History 

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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