Nothing To Howl At

She was indeed beautiful and alluring and seductive and, because she stopped responding to me, infuriating. Standing in the soft light of the living room, wearing a sheer, very sheer, black gown, I could see her right through the soft folds. An open robe that didn't do much to cover anything else draped from her shoulders down to the floor over lovely curved hips and long legs. The deep V of the gown revealed an expansive length of her from the shiny, smooth black hair, high cheekbones under slightly slanted eyes, glittering very red lips, long white throat and the milky excitement flowing to the loose drape of a nearly invisible fold under her navel.

She was enough to drive a man mad. The curve of her breasts led my eyes under the gown as if there were no gown. Every detail of her down to her black strap mules with the six-inch spiked heels taunted and tempted me. She was a muted, elusive dream.

"You know, Vanessa....."

"Forget it, Harold." That throaty voice!


"It's not going to happen, Harold. You know what's been happening to you. You know, but refuse to admit it." Even when she reminded me again of my failures her amazing eyes set me smoldering. "I used to like cuddling up to you when you'd get all furry. More than cuddle. I couldn't keep my hands off of you. But no more."

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)