Wednesday, November 27, 2013

Sunday Morning Dance - Part I

I have so many ideas I often think I should write a book of short stories.
Then I stop and think who would buy it? Really, would anyone truly spend money to read this stuff for the mere luxury of reading it on their own Kindle or Nook or iPad etc? Really, would you?

I was planning on posting a part of a three-part Thanksgiving related adventure.
A story of a young lady who learns some very hard lessons in some unexpected places. Uncommon places for her, and possibly most, including along the highway and at her parent's home. I may wait on posting those stories.

Well today, I decided to share Part I of an experimental story style. 
Remember Comments are Always Encouraged! Always love to hear feedback.


Sunday Morning Dance - Part  I

Coming home from an early morn'
Been up since farmer's dawn, makes me wonder why...
(I'm no farmer, but I know the land)
So much done; so much done before the mornin' sun
Back aching, legs heavy, hands and fingers tight

Coming home with seemingly nothin' won
Coming home with nothin' more than mud on my boots and dirt on my hands
High hopes for the smell of bacon and breakfast
Thirsting to refill my dried up cup, warm caffeine never lasts
Hard work I'll always trade for a gracious smile
Hard work for a warm embrace

Coming home greeted by silence
Coming home greeted by nothin'
No lights on, no warmth from an oven
Table's not set, mornin' coffee not refilled
No warm meal awaiting

High heels, keys and coat still strewn about
An open purse, crumpled cash still out
Empty half hidden cigarette pack
Our living room in utter disarray
All expected late last nigh
All excused at my pre-dawn start
All irritating at this hour

Searching upstairs, a warm bedroom much unchanged
Late morning sun breaking in
You still curled up, under sheets and blankets

I throw sheets to the floor 
Unaware of the time, indifferent to day's tasks
You stretch out in feline moves, back arching, long legs pointing
Hair tangled, pointing every which way
Wavy hair locks draping your shoulders
Wavy hair locks warming your bare chest
(Always beautiful even at rest)




A gentle nudge via
A solitary kiss to your neck 
My whispered morning greetings
Your protesting mumblings as response
All capped by your under-breath swears

I pull back, you want to complain
Your unfulfilled agreement is the broken key, but
Right now I am much too tired 
Right now I am much too tired for this discussion to be had 

Another unmistakable swear stops my retreat
Pulling you across the bed and onto your feet
Pulling you close I stop, your tempting scent negotiating a possible easy reprieve
My hands trying to run through dried hairspray tangled mess
(Such a tangled yet alluring mess)
Met only by your continued grumbling
Your friends are gone, but a hangover remains

I pull my disheveled beauty into an embrace
You tiptoe in place, squinting from the blinding windows
Running my hands down your pale soft skin
No fabric resistance met, I reach your ripe bottom
Feminine mounds barely encased in skimpy sheerness

My hands don't hesitate, they continue on, grasping handfuls of warm cheeks
"Stop your hands are rough; your hands are dirty"
You protest, you push and try to step away

My hands grab tight, easily flex hand muscles out

Releasing delicate cloth from your cheeks
Quick and easy panties fall (much, much too easilybunching at your thighs 



"Young lady, YOU are the mess!" I scold
"You're gonna dance for ME this morning!"
Twirling you around and again 
Some other time your skirt would have revealed quite a show
No twirling skirt for this show, instead effortlessly your panties further slide
This time you're the v.i.p. show

A final swing around and down over the bed
I hold you down with ease
My hand rises in the air, sunbaked palm outstretched
Your pale cheeks about to properly greet a hard morn's work

I swing back and slap you bottom with a targeted hit 
You buckle back and scream 
"I didn't do a thing! What did I do?!"
"Thats right...You didn't do a thing!
A delivered solid slap you have earned for each of those 'things'"

And so it begins

My palm is firm, my hand is tough
Your bottom bounces and shakes
My aim, always precise
You kick, buckle and scream
A flurry of hair, a pouting of feminine hands against the empty bed
Head shaking, bottom shaking
"Tell me Young Lady, is that how your ass was shaking last night?!
Quite a different dance this morning!"

Bottom is fully blush
Bottom throbbing, no end in sight
And then...
I stop

Silence

Then oddly delayed the sobbing begins
Tears roll down
Cheeks soft red
Your soft tear-filled words met by
Met by the swoosh of my belt

"No. No! A hiding I already got..."
"No penitent words. Your lesson learned?
Not just yet."

c2013 Enzo Man




  • HOT: Love it!
  • WARM: Over all worth reading
  • LUKEWARM: Prefer stories with more actual sex
  • COLD: Wasted Minutes
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3 comments:

Betsy T said...

This is so very beautifully written. It's tender yet hot.

Leigh Smith aka Sunny Girl said...

Very nice, the words created pictures.

Enzo said...

@ Betsy - Thanks for stopping by and for the complement. This is exactly the mood I was going for.

@ Sunny Girl - Thanks again for the taking the time to comment. I am glad you enjoyed it. I always try to supply just enough details to create a visual without being too wordy.