Digging for Home
Keywords: for, Digging, Home,
1 2 3 4 5 6 Next
"Sequel to:"
*"Never Make the Last Out at Third"*
After some minutes, Charlie broke the embrace. Backing away a step, she steered her moist brown eyes into Frank's damp grey ones. "What now?"
The man tilted his head to one side and shrugged. "I'm not sure. It hasn't been a day yet since you went from being the girl of my dreams to; well, the girl of my dreams with something extra."
"Ok," Charlie sighed. "What would you have wanted to do with me today supposing you hadn't found out I was a girl with, as you say, something extra?"
Frank's head bobbed for a few seconds in no apparent direction. "I'm still not sure."
Charlie noticed the man's gaze waver. "Am I your girlfriend or not?"
The question snapped Frank's focus to her face. "You are. You definitely are."
"Alright, then. If you want to say something, "say" it. If you want to do something, "do "it. If I like it, I'll tell you. If I don't like it, I'll tell you. That's how relationships work. And don't worry about offending me; if liking those damn Red Sox didn't scare me away, nothing will."
"Ok." Frank nodded. "But I know there are other things that make relationships work; like each partner giving, you know; in a loving way."
Charlie smirked as she read between the lines. "I'm not expecting a blowjob tonight. I don't want you to do anything you're not comfortable doing."
"I know," Frank said. "But you do want one someday, right?"
Charlie sighed as she nodded thoughtfully. Easing forward, she moved a palm to the man's upper arm, initiating a gentle caress. "You said you'd try. I can't ask for anything more."
"I just don't want you to be disappointed if I can't bring myself to do the things you want."
"Ok," Charlie whispered. "You made your point and I heard it. If it doesn't work out, I'll be ok. I'll still have some great memories of a great guy. What more can a girl want, right? So let's just keep going where we left off and see what happens."
Frank chewed his lower lip as he nodded. "Ok."
Charlie smiled and draped her forearms over the man's shoulders. "I think part of having masculine genitals means I have a sex drive to rival any man. Sure, we can go do dinner and a movie if you want, but I think where we left off was somewhere around here." She leaned into her man, resting her bosom against his chest.
Frank's eyes fell at once as he sensed the pleasing softness of her flesh through the fabric of his shirt. When several seconds later his gaze returned to the woman's face, he found her lovely brown eyes locked upon his pale grey ones.
"You like my titties, don't you?" Charlie whispered.
"You know I do."
"I bet we can find a lot we both want to do, starting there."
Frank tongued his lips. "Ok."
"Are you tense?"
"A bit."
"Why? I'm your girlfriend, remember?" Charlie moved her arms around the man's midriff and pulled him closer. "Just be yourself. That's all I want."
She exhaled through pursed lips as she sensed the hardness of his manhood against her. Her chest heaved with imprisoned excitement as she moved her own inflexible rod adjacent to his.
Frank's spine stiffened as he felt the girl begin to grind the two upright shafts against one another. He swallowed as his lips twitched, unable to conjure words to express his diverse emotions.
Charlie began to undulate her shoulders in concert with her hips. "Tell me that doesn't feel good."
"Yes," Frank admitted. "It does."
"I know," Charlie whispered, inching her face closer to his. "It feels better than good."
Frank's neck extended as if of its own accord. His eyelids drooped as their lips met; intertwining, reuniting, confirming. Charlie issued a whimper as the warmth in the man's kiss warmed her soul as well. Her hands fell to his buns. Groping his buttocks, she pulled their hips even closer together. She pushed her face forward at the same moment, simultaneously meshing their entire forms, from lips and loins.
Frank's hands fell to the woman's flank, where he caressed, rather than groped, savoring the softness of her form, the softness of her very "feminine" form. His eyes bolted wide. In that instant he realized that he still thought of Charlie as a female, just like he always had; just like he always would. That was what "she" was; a woman; and no physical anomaly would ever change that.
One mental hurdle cleared, Frank tucked his hands beneath the lower edge of the jersey. Rising, his fingers found both sides of her compressed breasts, petting the soft, distended flesh.
Charlie arched her back away from the man's torso, allowing her bosom to assume a more natural shape. "Yes," she whispered. "Love my titties. Do whatever you want to with them. Whatever you want, I want it too."
Frank's gaze dropped to the bulging Yankee pinstripes that separated him from the treasure within. "How much can that shirt have cost?" he mused. His lips curled in a salacious grin as he brought his eyes to hers. From inside the jersey, his hands found the garment's central seam.
Charlie's eyes dropped to see the ends of the man's fingers peeking from between the buttons of the uniform. Grasping his intent as he grasped the cloth, she inhaled a single short breath, snapping her head horizontal.
Their eyes met as Frank yanked his hands, sending black buttons flying across the woman's parlor. Charlie pressed her bosom outward, emitting an inadvertent snarl as her passions surged from simmer to boil.
* * * * *
Late the following morning, Frank paced in his study before his main computer monitor. Behind his back, just below the base of his spine, his left palm loosely coupled his right wrist. He reached the end of his three-meter walk and reversed course for the one hundred and fifty-ninth time; not that he was counting.
The screen beside the man showed the day's stock prices as they changed. What did not change was the quantity of any particular commodity owned by Frank. Earlier he had sat, staring at the display; but he had not seen a thing, much less made a purchase or issued an inquiry. After sitting for half an hour, he had risen to pace for an equal amount of time.
Frank stopped and wheeled, his gaze finding the chair. "Didn't I sit right there a few weeks ago," he mumbled to himself, "and say that I would gladly buy her?"
"Yes, Master," the computer answered. "You did. It was Tuesday, August . . ."
"Shut up!" Frank snapped. He sighed as he shook his head. "Stupid computers", he thought. "But stupider me; just two weeks ago I did want to buy her. I'd have done anything for her then, why not now?"
Frank moved to the chair and sat, burying his face in his palms". You idiot!" he scolded himself. "You total fucking wimp! Yesterday was such an opportunity; you know she wanted more. You have to give her more. I know you can. How hard can it be? After all, she's the same girl she was when you all but worshipped her. That's right you moron, the same "girl"; and all you need to do is treat her like one."
The man's face sprang from his hands as another portion of the doubt faded from his mind. "Computer, find me New York Yankees apparel, authentic jerseys." Frank dropped his brow into a low line. "How many Yankees are in the Hall of Fame anyway?"
"One hundred and nine," the computer replied. "Counting players and managers. There are fifty-three additional inductees who played primarily for other franchises, but spent part of their career with the Yankees."
Frank shook his head and snorted. "That's just ridiculous. How many numbers have those bastards retired?"
"If by 'those bastards' you refer to the Yankees, Master, then they have retired thirty-seven numbers. In order, these are; one, Martin; two, Jeter; three Ruth; four, Geh... "
"Stop!" The man exhaled a long breath through loosely pursed lips. "I want to order a half dozen official Yankee's team jerseys," he paused to sigh. "The name will be Forbes, and the size will be whatever size Charlie Forbes wears."
"The size Miss Forbes should wear or the size she does wear?" the computer inquired.
"What do you mean?"
"Given Miss Forbes's physique, she should wear a size M-7," the device explained, "but she wears an M-5 instead."
Frank smiled as he pictured the stylized "NY" logo stretched out of shape by her bosom. "Let's go with M-5."
"Very good, Master. Home or road uniform?"
"Home, of course."
"The Yankees do not have names on their home jerseys, Master."
"Really?"
"Yes, Master. Would you like to see an example?"
"No, I should have known that; I don't need a picture. Skip the name."
"Very good, Master. Will there be a number?"
Franks head moved in a slow nod as his lips drew back in the widest smiled that had ever graced his features. "Make half the jerseys with no number and the rest with number sixty-nine."
"Yes, Master."
Frank continued to both smile and nod as he pictured the look on Charlie's face when she saw that number. "Yes, she'll like that", he decided. "But it's still just words; or, in this case, numbers, a hollow promise until you make it something more."
The man brought his eyes to the display screen. "What's the estimated ship time?"
"Two days, Master."
Frank brought his fingers to his scalp and scratched above his right ear. "Now I'm buying fucking Yankees apparel; like those bastards need any more revenue. What the hell is wrong with me?"
"Nothing, Master. You're in love."
Frank's body jolted as he absorbed the unexpected reply. He searched his memory, seeking to confirm what he had heard. Even then, he did not trust his recollection. "What did you say?"
"I said, 'Nothing, Master. You're in love.' "
"Elaborate!"
"There is nothing wrong with you, Master. You are simply in love with Miss Forbes. It is natural for humans to purchase gifts for one another in such a situation. There is nothing socially abnormal about your behavior."
"Maybe not", Frank mused", but there's plenty socially abnormal just the same." He put his hands to his hips and looked to the computer screen. "Since when is it the computer's job to tell me I'm in love?"
"The model P3703E is designed to provide an answer to all questions posed when it can determine the answer within a certainty of 99.
1 2 3 4 5 6 Next
Keywords: for, Digging, Home,