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Date: Mon, 24 May 2004 00:32:17 -0700 (PDT)
From: strider@bikerider.com
Subject: Another Hot Day
...the following is the first chapter in a series of short chapters,...it
should be read as an ongoing story and perhaps reads more like a romance
novel than an erotic tale,...however there is a great deal of eroticism
that I anticipate to include in this story...
I.
Another Hot Day
It was a day like any other day,...at least that's what I thought...
When there's not much to do, you have to be creative. Creativity is a
strange thing and sometimes even a little creativity can reap some large
rewards.
It was going to be a very hot day. Hot days and hang-overs are not my
favorite combination. The sliding glass door to my first story, one
bedroom abode was wide open. I assumed that, in my drunken stupor of the
night before I had forgotten to close it. I had pretty much forgotten
everything from about one a.m. onward. Blacking out wasn't new to me,
although it did concern me, but evidently not enough to motivate me to kick
my bad habit. Standing in the living room in my birthday suit one thing
struck my mind like a harbinger reminder... "it's gonna be a hot day"...
I had to get away from this heat. I had to make a plan, but for about the
next 20 minutes I just roamed around my small apartment, trying like hell
to put together the pieces that made up my disjointed thought process in
the midst of a righteously massive hang-over.
In my wandering I saw something out of the corner of my eye that called to
my attention. It stood on the kitchen counter, a white round cylinder,
about two inches tall with one of those child proof caps that make it
almost impossible to open, short of having a child open it for you. "My
old friend", I seemed to mutter almost as a condolence to my own sad
situation. The Motrin bottle seemed to trigger some brief memory, like a
gold coin to a lost soul searching for a past life in a hypnotic
regression.
I had set the bottle there in anticipation of my disjointed condition.
"Damage control" I think I had said last night, staggering about, searching
for some equilibrium in the fun house that was once my living space. As
the ground continued to tip and sway, I stood my ground like Ahab, fighting
the mighty whale. The booze of course was my Starbuck and my thoughts, my
ship sailing straight and true into oblivion. I had managed to pilot my
inebriated carcass around the various pieces of furniture that stood like
defiant monoliths challenging my every stagger. I recalled falling onto my
bed, feeling the warm embrace of my fluffy pillow encase my throbbing
melon. I was fortunate enough to pass out before my world began to spin,
much like my drinking had, spinning out of control, like the water in a
drain...flowing downward into a dark space where no one knows what lurks...
A small belch brought me back to the present,...and one thought remained,
"it was going to be a hot day"... After a handful of Motrin I drank enough
water to fill me up without getting me sick. A cool shower helped me shed
the penance I was paying for my euphoric sin of the night before. By the
time I had showered and cleaned myself up I could at least think in a
somewhat cogent manner.
..0..
Living in the Central Valley of California had its advantages, a temperate
climate was not one of them, but fortunately, I was close enough to the
coast that I could escape the hellish heat without too much trouble.
After sliding a fresh pair of thong underwear over my slightly anxious cock
I climbed into a snug t-shirt and finished with a comfy pair of jeans.
Some ankle high socks over my feet and a pair of comfortable tennies. I
drug a brush across my shortly cropped dark brown hair and slid a razor
over my tan face, removing the stubble from a night's growth. Smooth
shaven and well groomed I went over to fetch the three things that kept me
in touch with the rest of my world,... keys, wallet and cell phone.
I climbed into the car, and it felt like an oven inside as I immediately
rolled down all the windows. The air conditioner would be fighting a
losing battle if I relied solely on it to cool down the stifling heat
inside my automobile. I could feel the perspiration bead on my forehead.
I hadn't been inside my car for more than five minutes and I was already
beginning to perspire as if I was in a sauna.
Within about fifteen minutes the temperature inside the moving oven began
to dissipate to something less than the surface of the sun. I stopped for
some fluids, both for my car and myself. My car got a nice helping of
unleaded plus while I got myself a 16 ounce orange juice and one of those
sports drinks that are supposed to turn you into Michael Jordan or Barry
Sanders. I didn't foresee getting a 3 foot vertical leap or a 4.4 forty
yard dash after downing the elixir, but hopefully it would help re-hydrate
my liquid famished body.
Up went the windows and the air conditioner was set for full blast. The
cool air felt good and seemed to help in reviving my somber state. With it
being so god-forsakenly hot in my neck of the woods, the coast would be
perfect, even at night and so I traveled lightly.
The car pushed through the growing heat, past the dry fields and growing
subdivisions that lay between me and San Francisco. Climbing over the high
hills that separated one valley from another windmills stood, stoic and
vigilant, ever waiting for the slightest breeze or more likely gust of
coastal wind to put them into motion, endlessly turning like the days as
they seemed to blend into nights. They all seem to blend and I could
hardly remember when day was marked by something more than the misery of a
hang-over and night was not marked by the sweet Elysium of drunken
euphoria.
Someone had once asked me if I was an alcoholic. I told them no,... in
fact I was a drunk. "What's the difference", they asked. "Drunks
drink,...Alcoholics go to meetings..." . They didn't seem to like my
joke...
The station was on the next exit. One thing that I could say was that San
Francisco and the Bay Area included had an excellent transit system. It
was a blessing not to have to drive all the way into the City. I parked my
trusty steed into one of the ubiquitous spots that sprawled on either side
of the BART station and locked her up tight. As I began my short hike to
the station entrance a smile crossed my lips as I thought... " today's
gonna be a hot day... but I'll be in the cool confines of the City..." Ah,
the City, what wonders and surprises awaited me there? I was soon going to
find out, and what a surprise it would be...
..0..
The wonderful thing about the train was that you could spend time that
would otherwise have been spent driving in mind numbing, nerve shattering,
life shortening traffic to do other things... Some people did work while on
the train, busily typing away on their laptop computers and the slight
lurch of the vehicle from time to time resulting in a hail of backspacing.
Some others liked to read, whether it was a novel, a school text or just
the daily paper. Whereas others, such as myself liked to use the time more
usefully, to do those things I rarely have time to do....like taking a nap.
Ah, the seats on the light rail were actually quite comfortable, with
cushions that were well maintained and carpeted which helped to deaden the
otherwise noisy steel wheels.
I had just settled down into a nice cozy position, arms crossed, head
softly lolling from side to side and that hazy, lazy feeling just before
sleep. She was so beautiful...like a dream...
SCREEEECH.... "Castro Valley Station!!!" blared over the intercom... "This
is a San Francisco train,.... the doors are now closing...." Now why is it
that every time I start to have a wonderful dream I get woken up, can't I
at least enjoy my fantasies?...Wow, what an angel she was...
I had seen her on an Internet site during the night before. Just prior to
my journey into oblivion, I found myself surfing the net as I usually did
to pass the endless hours of solitude. My window into Alice's wonderland
was a celluloid picture frame 16 inches across in full Technicolor. With a
few simple keystrokes I was on a journey into never-never land. Like
opium, this drug was addictive, it's relief instantaneous from the pains
that haunted me. Where would my journey take me was but a mystery to me
until I saw her...
The moment I saw her I think my heart stopped, then skipped a few beats
before it was able to resume its regular rhythm. She was nameless, yet she
needed no name. She could have been named Helen...(of Troy) or even
Rhiannon. Her long blond hair flowed like liquid honey down each side of
her angelic face. Her eyelashes were like butterfly wings on a soft
afternoon spring breeze. She had light green eyes that looked like small
precious gems and sparkled with an internal fire and beauty all their own.
Her skin was as smooth as freshly fallen snow with a light tan complexion.
She was Perfect! Her gaze seemed to penetrate past me and through me. Her
lips were bee stung, and pink, like a light pink rose-petal. I could only
imagine that she smelt of jasmine and honeysuckle and to be close to her
was to know the meaning of being in heaven. Her breasts were exquisite, so
natural and so beautiful, she had to be at least a 38D. They draped
slightly from her shoulders which slung slightly, showing a gentle collar
bone and a supple neck, with all the grace of a great Swan. Her areolas
were large, pink and as big as a silver dollar, they were slightly puffy
and had the shape of small cones, both tipped with soft peach colored
nipples. Their softness showed through even on the flat screen of my
computer monitor and I briefly imagined how wonderful it would be to lie my
head on her bosom... with her long peach-colored finger nails running
through my hair....softly caressing behind my ear and across the nape of my
neck, gently stroking my cheek up to my side burn, around my ear and down
my neck, gently massaging my shoulder and running the backs of her nails
across my triceps...her smell and touch and closeness lulling me into a
deep and quiet....
..0..
SCREEEEEEEECH.... "West Oakland, West Oakland station, this is the last
stop before we reach San Francisco,...this is a San Francisco train... the
doors are now closing"...
Damn it!, did it again! Well, whoever she was, she had witchcraft in her
stare... I must have stared at her image for at least a half an
hour,...just looking and taking in every detail about her like a fine wine
or a delicate chocolate, that's to be savored rather than consumed her ever
inch of womanhood was awe inspiring....including the half-flacid cock that
fell between her buttermilk-like creamy thighs...
It was a penis, but not just "a penis",... it was a woman's penis, if a
woman could ever have a penis. It was beautiful, it was smallish and
uncut, a light peach-flesh color on the outside without the prominence of
blue veins or any hair at all, that you would expect to see on a male
penis. Her scrotum was smallish as well, almost feminine, it was petite
and delicate and as smooth as a baby's bottom.
She was completely shaved, and I do mean Completely! She was so smooth,
like a sculpure. Even though I shaved as well, I could never get myself
that smooth with just a razor. Her smooth cock and small scrotum looked
....well...cute between her legs and somehow made her even more desirable.
Her transgenderedness made her even more beautiful, more unique and even
more mysterious. What was it like to be close to such a unique and
beautiful woman? She looked so soft, so gentle, like a piece of precious
China I could almost not imagine making love to such a beautiful woman, but
yet I couldn't imagine how I could stop myself from wanting her so much,
wanting to touch her and hold her and caress her, console her....
"Embarcadero Station,...Embarcadero Station..."
Well, here's my stop. I arose from my seat slowly, but not too slowly, the
muscles in my legs reminding me of my past night's indiscretions with the
dreaded drink... and making it out the sliding doors just moments before
the train began again down the tracks to points westward.
I made my way out of the station and up the stairs where the light of day
met me with a combination of gentle warmth from the sun and a cool breeze
from the adjacent ocean. I needed a good walk both for the exercise and to
help shake off the remnants from last night. The Embarcadero would be an
excellent walk. Perhaps some pizza or fish-n-chips once I got as far a
Gherardelli Square. No matter, I had quite a walk ahead of me and lots of
time,... time to think,... think of my mystery gurl. Who was she?, where
was she?, maybe she was just an apparition of my inebriated imagination.
Yes indeed, somewhere it was going to be a hot day, but for me,...today, I
would enjoying the cool sea breezes and sunshine of summertime in the San
Francisco Bay. What I didn't know was that not only would I enjoy the
great summer weather, but I would enjoy something quite different and much
more wonderful that would come from the most unlikely of places...
...( I hope you have enjoyed this first chapter in an ongoing set of short
tales I intend to post...if you have any questions, praise, criticisms, or
whatnot,...feel free to e-mail me at strider@bikerider.com all input is
warmly welcome....peace!)