The Long Highway Pt. 33 - Sex Stories

The Long Highway Pt. 33

... cheerful, over coffee in a sunlit living room-like setting. A book was put in view. One of the television conversationalists laid it on the glass table and the camera zoomed in as his slender hand withdrew. I saw that the the author of the book was Italo Calvino. Good, I thought. Before the name became clear, I'd misread it and supposed the work was by a different author, a puerile Brazilian popular among young people who don't know better. Of course not! This was Italy.

"But turn off the TV," I said aloud. "This isn't the way to start the day." Suddenly all the hours that loomed ahead seemed long. I felt an emptiness, missed Akemi. The daylight that filled the room made it feel wrong to stay indoors when I could be out with others drinking in each moment.

On a walk I looked to the sunset blazing so that the horizon was blurred and thought that somewhere in that direction was Akemi. In the dream then I was in California, looking to the west, where Japan was. I noted people walking past, hippy types still here in California after all those years- a young guy with long hair and a sunburned complexion. He looked so sure of himself, bouncing on his feet, like a grown-up kid, probably living on money from his parents. I thought his touted "lifestyle" a fantasy. He didn't realize, was proud of himself. I felt critical, of course.

--

Hiroko translated

My bra is wet from you. I have to wash it and hope my husband doesn't ask why. Why would he?

You make me wet ...

... inside too and will again because I want it. Am I too selfish?

I never show the picture you made afterward with the orange leaf-colored bra but I keep it to keep that moment. It made me orgasm, my pelvis flex and convulse.

I can touch the cream in the picture like touching you through window glass.

Your cream glints shivers on that surface and my flesh gasping and relaxing.

The bra design is from autumn foliage called kouyou 紅葉 and it's wet like a fallen leaf in the rain. Shiny as if it's been dragged along the wet road. So drenched it's become almost transparent. You can see through it my nipples you've kissed and bitten and will again, that moment we keep.

--

Mitchell likes to photograph nature, so of course he likes that bra with kouyou 紅葉 fall foliage design.

Last night we were at an event at the college and a guy invited me to an art exhibit in the city. He'd learned I am a painter. I demurred but he kept asking.

"It doesn't have to be tomorrow or even the day after or even next week. I'm not in a hurry," he said.

I answered vaguely, thanking him, saying I would like to find time but was busy.

He persisted cheerfully, undeterred. This was all an unexpected pleasure, our conversation. He seemed to feel he had nothing to lose.

When he kept going, Mitchell finally said, "Can't you hear her? She said no."

"What's with you, man?" the guy said, surprised to find Mitchell there, though he had been all along, with other guests.

"Why is this your ...