1. I Remember Erewhon


    Date: 9/29/2015, Categories: Mature, Author: BradleyStoke, Rating: 2, Source: LushStories

    changed no more. Or only by increments. Her hair-colour, her complexion, her small pursed lips, her wide-open eyes, her signature phrases: these remained more or less the same. She was a more constant companion on my frequent visits to Erewhon, whose absence would be a matter for comment. And, bit-by-bit, little-by-little, my focus of attention shifted from her nose to her lips, from her blouse to her bra and then to her breasts, from her knees past the thighs to her crotch, and then, divesting each onion shell of feminine vestment to pure, simple nakedness. And never before (and never since) had sheer nudity been so exciting, so enticing and so desirable. And I couldn’t get enough of it. It didn’t matter where we were in Erewhon. We could be on a busy pavement jostled by hurrying commuters, high above the city streets on the top floor of a tall building or, most often, in an open field of wheat under a blue sky and our skin baking under a yellow sun. But wherever we were, there was nakedness; accompanied often by fumbling and thrusting and, more often than not, premature release. But these golden days of sunshine and simple sexual craving and satisfaction couldn’t last forever. Just when it seemed that my life with Ydobon would stay the same until the end of eternity, all changed. Ydobon became more harshly delineated; she became less compliant and more argumentative; our encounters became as likely to end in conflict and tears as in tender moments of prenuptial bliss: until ...
    such a time they were never anything other than occasion for anger and sorrow and regret. And then Ydobon as had I known her at that time vanished. But Erewhon didn’t vanish with her. It was still there: a city of turrets and towers and cobbled streets, of highways and byways and railway sidings, of malls and night clubs and coffee shops and pubs. More often than it used to, the weather would change from the constant sunshine of my childhood and my happiest early days with Ydobon to overcast and drizzly and the city became more gritty, neon-lit and sometimes forbiddingly ominous. It was inevitable that Ydobon would return. But her return was hesitant and sputtering. And her new look was more diverse than it had ever been before. Her lips were pursed or full, with large square teeth bursting forth or a pencil-line of barely glimpsed enamel. Her flesh became sometimes opulent, sometimes emaciated, sometimes dark, sometimes white tinged with blue. Her eyes were set under eyelids that fluttered or barely moved, with irises from blue to brown to a scary black. And her body was sometimes easy to take (perhaps far too much so) or otherwise unobtainable and therefore the more mysterious and desirable. Her bosom rose and fell. Her wrists and the arms to which they belonged swelled and withered. Ydobon was a woman who pursued me in many guises as Erewhon’s landscape steadily mutated to provide space for university halls of residence, night clubs and concert halls, cafeterias and pubs. ...
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