Author: Molly

At The Concert

Posted 2 months ago by Molly

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

The bass was so loud I could feel it in my ribs long before the headliner walked onstage. Lights swept across the crowd in restless colors while thousands of people pressed shoulder to shoulder, sweaty and buzzing with anticipation. I’d barely found space near the middle when he appeared beside me like he’d always been there.

He was tall and good looking. I smiled at him, leaning in close to be heard over the music. “You’re tall.”

He raised his eyebrow and leaned into me further. “Is that a complaint?”

Laughing, I shook my head. “It’s a good thing!” I touched his arm and leaned to see the stage better. I was trying to be casual, but lingered long enough to let him wonder just how casual the evening could be.

The main act started, guitars and drums thrumming through the arena, and the crowd surged forward. I caught herself against his chest, laughing and watching him through my lashes.

“Dangerous spot,” he said.

“You planning to protect me?” I asked, moving to stand directly in front of him. I kept eye contact for a moment before turning back to the stage, moving in time with the music.

As the…

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Massage Bliss

Posted 2 months ago by Molly

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

I’d been very stressed recently and had decided to treat myself. I decided to book an appointment with a masseuse. When I made it to the massage parlor. I was greeted by the smell of cedar and eucalyptus, and I felt myself start to relax a little. Laying face down on the heated table, the crisp linen draped loosely over my back, I waited. My mind was still racing with the chaotic noise of the day, but the ambient drone of a singing bowl in the background was already calming the jumbled mess in my head.

Then, the air shifted. I heard the faint, metallic click of a bottle, followed by the soft, friction-warmed sound of palms rubbing together.

The first touch was wonderful. Two broad, oil-slicked hands descended onto my bare shoulders. They weren’t timid; the pressure was firm, heavy, and amazingly warm. A sigh escaped my lips before I could stop it, the sound swallowed by the padded headrest. The hands moved in slow, deliberate movement, gliding down the long muscles of my spine, dragging a trail of liquid heat in their wake.

Every stroke was focused, as if the masseuse could read the map of my…

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

The afternoon sun filtered through the curtains; casting a warm, dappled pattern across the rumpled sheets of our bed. It was one of those rare, quiet Sundays where the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us wrapped in the lazy haze of midday.

I leaned against the headboard, watching him sleep. The gentle rise and fall of his chest was the only sound in the room, save for the soft rustle of the linen every time you shifted. A stray lock of hair fell across his forehead, and I reached across the small distance between us.

Slowly, so as not to wake him, my fingertips barely brushed his cheek; tracing the line of his jaw with a featherlight touch. Trailing my fingers up, I gently brushed the hair off of his forehead. His skin was warm, radiating a comforting heat that seemed to draw me closer. He let out a contented sigh, shifting toward my touch as a faint smile touched the corners of his lips.

I watched as his eyes fluttered open, heavy with sleep and dark with a quiet affection that always makes my heart skip. He didn’t speak; instead, he

Continue reading “Lazy Saturday Morning” →

Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

The late afternoon sun blazed over the back yard, turning the pool into a shimmering sheet of glass. In the room off the patio, the air conditioner did little to cut through the mounting humidity of the afternoon. Nor did it do anything to cut down on the tension that was building between my son’s college tutor and me.

He was a brilliant and focused grad student. He was sitting hunched over a stack of textbooks, reviewing my son’s latest essay. The man was the picture of academic discipline; but today, his focus was fraying. From across the kitchen counter, I watched the way he adjusted his glasses for the tenth time, and the way his eyes darted toward the sliding glass door led to the patio.

“You look like you’re losing the war with… Hamlet?” I said, leaning forward to try and read the paper upside down. My blouse hung low, showing ample cleavage. I looked up in time to see his eyes dart away from the show I’d inadvertently given him.

I smirked and walked behind him, lightly pressing against his back to look over his shoulder at the scrawled papers beneath him. The scent of citrus and musk enveloped me.

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449 

 

Do you have a go-to snack in the kitchen? Something a little sweet, that can be grabbed out of a jar, and eaten quickly as you do other things. Mine is marshmallows or chocolate chips. Both are easy to eat on the go, and satisfy, albeit temporarily, a sweet tooth. Imagine my surprise when a friend came over who had never indulged in a sweet snack from the cupboard.

“What are you doing?” My friend asked as I popped a handful of marshmallows in my mouth.

“Having a snack?” I responded, glancing over at my friend across the island countertop. “Would you like some?” I stretched my hand out, offering a handful of nearly gooey marshmallows to him.

“I’ve never had these. What are they?” He gingerly picks one up and gives it an experimental squeeze.

“You’ve never had marshmallows before?” I was dumbfounded.

“No. Growing up we ate mostly rice and vegetables. Occasionally we’d get to have meat. What is a marshmallow?” He responded, continuing to squish the malleable treat in his fingers.

“It’s kind of sweet? Sort of chewy and gooey. It’s very sticky when it melts.” I tried to describe it. I had no clue what…

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449  

I promised to help a friend with his studies and agreed to meet him at a nearby cafe. I got out of my car and checked my phone to see if he had already snagged a booth. A message popped up; clicking it open, I read.

‘I’m in a booth straight back, to the right.’ I smiled at his perfect timing and made my way through the parking lot, following his directions to the booth once I was inside. Walking up to the table, my pace slowed. His bag, laptop and several books were spread across the whole table; leaving me nowhere to sit. “Wow, I wasn’t expecting this.” I smiled walking closer, “Where am I supposed to sit?

He looked up and smiled back. “Oh yeah. Sorry. Why don’t you sit here?” He brought his hands out from under the table to gesture to his side of the table. I quirked an eyebrow at him and put my purse on the chair opposite him before turning to sit next to him. I felt one of his hands slide up my skirt and pull my panties to the side, and the other on my hip guiding me to sit in 

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449

I went to a dinner function for work a few weeks back. The function was mostly awards being handed out to various colleagues of mine for their efforts over the last year. My department was a little under represented, with only me and one intern able to make the event. Which wasn’t the worst thing ever, he was great company; if a little young and unsure of himself. Well into the third glass of wine when my name was called to receive an award.

I made my way up to the podium to accept my award, and was struck by the fact that out of all my co-workers, only the intern was present. Plastering a smile on my face, I accepted my award and blinked back bittersweet tears at the thought that I really only had one companion to share this with, and made my way back to the table I shared with my intern.

“Congratulations! You really deserve it.” He smiled at me and patted my shoulder, fingers lingering just a moment longer than was necessary.

“Thanks.” I smiled back and tossed back the last of my wine.

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Molly 1-844-332-2639 ext 449

I have a problem. I’m hot for my son’s teacher. I’ve broken more than one vibe thinking about him. When I first met him at the Open House in the beginning of the school year I knew I was in trouble. The way he commanded attention at the front of the room. The way he walked around the classroom handing out the syllabus. All I could think of was seeing if I could get him alone. Listening to his voice as he explained his expectations of his students; all I could do was imagine what he’d sound like while he worked me over.

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