Amiga ISO Collection/AmigaDemoCD2.iso/ASCII/TEXTE/SEX/ADULTSHARE/A/ATLNITE4.TXT

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atlnite4.txt
                           ÉÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ»
                           º    "ATLANTA" by Night    º
                           º         SAGA #4          º
                           º    Written by Atlanta    º
                           ÈÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍͼ

     "Thank God it's Friday!", I think upon leaving the building.  The
     week has been grueling.  All first weeks on a new job are grueling.
     Why should mine be any different?

     Last night you called to say one lone eagle would be arriving in
     Atlanta by 3:00 p.m. our time and should be at the hotel by 4:30
     p.m.  You congratulated me on my new position and asked if I would
     care to celebrate Friday evening after work.  "Bring your tired
     little tootsies and something slinky for later, perhaps.", you say.

     So the moment has come and I am pulling into the parking lot for
     the second time.  I have made arrangements for the care of my
     daughter, and have packed a small bag as requested.  Removing it,
     my purse and briefcase from the vehicle, a quick adjustment to my
     hair and skirt and off I go to the front lobby.

     The concierge announces my arrival to you, then after a moment,
     asks that I meet you in suite 1030.  Unnecessarily escorting me to
     the elevators, he verbally directs me to your door.

     Taking a deep breath, I knock lightly.

     The door opens with a slight "shwishh..." and there you are to
     greet me.  Taking my bag and briefcase from me, you smile and say,
     "Hello, Atlanta." in the voice only you possess.

     Upon shutting the door, you usher me into the living area of your
     quarters.  I deposit my purse on the table top as you carry my
     things into another room -- the bedroom, I presume.

     "How was your flight?", I ask.

     "Just like all the others, I'm afraid.", you say.

     Slipping into the kitchenette area, you produce a chilled bottle
     of a late harvest reisling and pull the cork.  Two glasses are
     poured and you proffer me one.  Seating myself in one of the chairs
     at the table, I watch as you flit about the little kitchen.

     A tray of finger foods/veggies and dips appear miraculously from
     nowhere.  You tell me you thought we might both be a little too
     nervous to attempt to eat a whole dinner just yet.

     And with the wine/ice bucket in one hand, tray in another, you
     suggest we retire to more comfortable seating.

     Checking to see if there is anything I can carry for you, you ask
     if I could grab your wine glass and some napkins for you.
     Following you into the living area again, you set the wine and tray
     on the coffee table, take the glasses and napkins from my hands,
     then tell me to make myself comfortable.

     Sitting on the sofa somewhat facing one another, you hand me my
     glass and raise yours in a small toast to our meeting -- then and
     now.  Our glasses sing as they touch, our eyes meet and hold as we
     raise our glasses to sip the fruity wine.

     We talk casually about our day/week, my new job, your new
     clients/auditors, my daughter, your boys, etc., stopping from time
     to time to refill our glasses, or nibble on a cracker and brie, or
     to touch your cheek softly. Conversation comes so easily with you,
     as does holding your hand.  It's as if we have been old friends for
     years, or perhaps in another life?

     By now the heels have grown quite uncomfortable and I quietly
     remove them, rubbing my toes into the pile of the carpet.  Patting
     your thigh, you tell me to prop my feet up on your lap and you'll
     rub them for me.  Without a moment's hesitation, I take you up on
     your kind offer.

     We continue to chat amicably as you rub my feet.  You ask, "What
     would you like to do this evening?"

     Removing my feet from your lap, I pause, thinking, then say
     "Houston, would you mind too terribly if we just stayed here for
     awhile, enjoying one another's company, getting to know each other
     better?  This really has been a very busy week for me.  Would you
     mind?".

     "Come here, Atlanta.", you say, opening your arms.

     Scooting closer to you on the sofa, you enfold me in your
     outstretched arms.  A shiver of excitement shudders through my
     body.

     Tipping my head back with your hand, your lips press gently against
     mine in our first kiss.  With each kiss, our urgency builds.  Your
     tongue seeks mine and they entwine, tease and taunt.  Your hands
     caress my back and shoulders.

     Coming up for air, I ask you to excuse me for a moment and direct
     me to your lavatory.

     Padding softly upon the carpet, we enter the bedroom and you
     indicate the lavatory is just to the left inside.   Picking up my
     bag, I enter the bath, closing the door soundly behind me.

     Shortly, I open the door and re-enter the bedroom.  The room has
     been dimly lit and I hear you humming softly to some music while
     tinkering in the kitchenette.  Tip-toeing to the door, I silently
     watch you.

     Sensing my arrival, you turn to face me.  Your jaw drops.  Royal
     blue satin and black mantilla lace greet you in surprise.  Crooking
     a finger in your direction, I entice you back into the dimly lit
     bedroom.  Modeling the latest "Creation by Atlanta", I make several
     turns for you, then slightly curtsey as your eyes seemingly
     applaud.

     Coming toward me, loosening your tie in stride, you take me in your
     arms and kiss me passionately.  My fingers caress your beard, then
     work their way down to remove your tie completely, unfastening
     buttons as I go.

     Your hands smooth the lace overlay away from my shoulders, sending
     it to the floor.  Crushing me in your arms, my nipples rub against
     you through the satin of the negligee.  Your kisses are hot upon
     my throat, neck and shoulders.

     With a moan, you excuse yourself to the lavatory, telling me to
     make myself more comfortable.

     Turning to the bed, I notice that one side has already been turned
     down and a single yellow baby rose bud lays across a pillow.  The
     card attached reads,

                        "My Dearest Atlanta,

                         Did you think I had
                         forgotten?  How could I?

                         Now just relax and let me
                         take you to heights you
                         have never soared before.

                         Always, Houston"

     Blinking back the tears, I turn around and you are there.  You've
     changed into your robe -- no more suit or tie -- just you.
     Wrapping my arms around your neck, I hug you and thank you
     profusely for the rose and sentiment.  Our lips meet in a gentle
     kiss.

     Laying the rose aside and holding the sheets back for me, I slip
     between them.  They feel cool and crisp to my skin.

     With the flick of a switch, you turn off the light, remove your
     robe and climb into bed.

     Your hands reach for me in the moonlight.  They seek my breasts as
     your mouth taunts mine.  Your tongue searches longing as your
     fingers squeeze and tease my nipples.  A hand slips upward to
     untie my straps and smooth the fabric away from my skin.  Your
     touch is gentle, but there is the sensation of urgency that fills
     the air.

     A hand slides slowly up one knee, to my inner thigh and eventually
     strokes my pubic hair.  As a finger probes deeper into its lush
     interior finding that mysterious button of pleasure, a shiver
     overtakes me.  Your fingers begin a speedy rhythm, but I quickly
     slow it down by grasping your hand in mine.  Slowly your index
     finger begins to circle my clitoris sending sensations pulsing
     throughout my body.  Your tongue and teeth playfully lick and nip
     at my nipples, suckling noisily.

     With a soul-searching kiss to my lips, you gently roll me over
     onto my back.  I feel your body pressing down upon mine and I want
     to scream, "Take me now!  Please, please, take me now!", but you
     have other plans.

     Your lips trail kisses down my neck, across my breasts, over the
     softness of my belly and forever downward.  Within moments, your
     flickering tongue is encircling my clitoris once again.  My pelvis
     thrusts forward in an effort to achieve deeper penetration and
     contact.

     Those familiar sensations have begun in the backs of my knees and
     balls of my feet.  Soon.  It will happen soon.

     Sensing my need, your fingers begin stroking in slow rhythm with
     your tongue, sinking deeper and deeper into the wetness.

     "What is it that you really want, Atlanta?", you whisper.

     My body aches in need of release.  I long to feel you deep within
     me, splitting me apart, clutching my buttocks with each stroke.

     How do I tell you these things, though?

     With one last flicker of your tongue, you slide upward between my
     legs, laying flush against my body.  Kissing each breast, nipping
     each nipple, you ask again, "Atlanta, what do you really want?"

     "I want you deep inside me."  There.  I've said it.  I've actually
     told you what I really want and need.

     As quickly as I have said it, my bottom is propped up on a pillow,
     thighs spread wide, and you are easing yourself into me, complete
     with condom.  I'm tight and wet and the sensations I feel are
     overwhelming.  It's been so long.

     Your hand slips down and a thumb begins to rub my pleasure button
     once again as you slip deeper and deeper into me.  My pelvis rises
     to meet you and your rhythm begins.

     Within moments, I am on the brink once again.

     "Please, I'm going to...", and as a moan escapes my lips, toes
     begin to curl, you thrust deeper, harder, faster.  You squeeze my
     breasts and pinch my nipples between each thumb and forefinger and
     I am sent into oblivion.  My pelvis bucks up instinctively and you
     grab my buttocks, making me meet your every stroke.

     "Go, Atlanta.  Just let it go.", you say.

     And I do.

     The bedsprings creak with each thrust.  The headboard bangs
     against the wall.  Wave after wave overtakes my body.  I grasp
     your hips with my hands, squeezing them as each ripple surges
     through me.

     When my body can no longer endure such pleasure and sensitivity
     sets in, my body locks down, eyes close tightly and I clutch you
     to my heaving breasts with extraordinary strength.  My fingernails
     dig into your flesh as every muscle in my body contracts.

     Time goes by, I know not how long, before I am able to open my
     eyes and speak.  I am weak.  My heart still pounds within my
     chest.

     "What did you do to me?", I ask.  "I can hardly hold my head up.
     I'm so drained."

     "Perhaps it was the wine.", you say.

     "I don't think the wine had anything to do with this!", I retort.

     As you start to pull away from me, you say, "Sleep, Atlanta.

     There's plenty of time for much more later, I promise."

     You lay beside me, caressing my hair and face, kissing my breasts
     and mouth, as I slowly drift away into euphoria.  I am safe within
     your arms.  All is right with the world.

     ÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍÍ
             Gary & Heather's BBS, Atlanta, Georgia - [phone]
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