The Lady and the Man

Spring has finally arrived.

The once shimmering sparkling snow white covered ground has given way to new life. Walking along the country road in my small town I can see the beginning sprouts of wild flowers doing their best to break through the winter ground and change the dreary landscape into a stunning display of color and beauty.

Intoxicating fragrances, climbing honeysuckle, wild jasmine, the scent of new spring blossoms teasing my senses give me a sense of dreaminess. Sweet magical potions floating in the air that just encourage me to breathe deep and take in as much grandeur as I can.

Signs of new life are everywhere. You can barely, however clearly, if you listen closely, perceive the insistent cries of young chicks begging the attentive mother to tend to their hunger. The parents fly in tandem searching for the juiciest prey for their energetic babies and when they're satisfied she cuddles them in the warmth of her protective body while her mate continues to provide for her comfort.

I try and walk every day. I tuck my earphones in, raise the volume and lose myself in the music. There are times it causes me to be somewhat unmindful to the sounds and movement around me. This particular morning the jolt of a wickedly loud blaring horn brought me back to the here and now with a shudder.

"Get the hell off the road! You should be more careful and walk your ass closer to the side of the road!" Clearly I had interfered with his joy ride.

Turning my head to my left I couldn't help but see a grubby old man in a beat up ancient truck glaring at me with obvious contempt. My initial thought, what a mean old coot.

"Coming around the curve I almost didn't see you, could have been a nasty mess."

My instinct was to tell him that if he'd been driving at the posted limit instead of flying at warp speed he'd have had no problem seeing me walking on the side of the road completely out of his path as I made sure that I wouldn't put myself in harm's way by meandering into the oncoming traffic.

"If you were driving like a normal person instead of a race car driver you'd have no problem seeing me."

"Smart ass huh?" Not the reply I expected from a gentleman.

"Let's just say I'm certainly smart enough to know that you were speeding and to keep my very sweet ass off the road old man."

"Smart mouth too! Screw you bitch!" I had obviously struck more than a nerve.

"You're obviously in a hurry so please don't let me hold you up. There must be something really important waiting for you although I can't for the life of me believe that anyone or anything is looking forward to your arrival." I was doing all I could from just telling him to go to hell.

"Fuck you!" Such a gentleman.

"Not in your sad lifetime old man!"

With that courteous retort he sped away. I know, you immediately thought that his being an old man would temper my response, not on your life. It seems even old men can be jerks. I truly don't understand the nasty mindset, never have, probably never will.

I stood there for a minute and realized that as beautiful a morning as it was there were obviously people who couldn't or wouldn't appreciate it no matter how bright the sun was shining. I could have easily turned around and gone home however I would be letting someone else dictate my actions and that wasn't my style.

I smiled to myself and wondered exactly what my style was these days? It appeared as though my predisposition and attraction to older men could easily become a distraction and in most cases I would have taken the time to pacify his mean spirited attitude. Obviously even for me some old men can be a total turnoff.

By the time I arrived home I had walked approximately five miles, somewhat further than my typical distance but the day was so delightful I just lost myself in my music and by the time I realized where I was I had walked considerably further than my usual stretch and quickly turned around before I ran out of steam to get home.

These days I found myself getting lost in my thoughts more than was normal even for me. Maybe the combination of my new surroundings and ever growing list of personal goals were becoming somewhat overwhelming. I had recently moved to New England into a new home and was experiencing all the trappings and changes that any major change in life bring.

I took a long hot shower, threw on some comfortable clothes, poured a glass of ice tea and headed to the comfort of my small sitting room. I'd always imagined a ladies' parlor right off my upstairs bedroom and had finally accomplished that goal. I had deliberately designed this space to be warm, feminine, very frilly. My house was built in the early 1800's and has all the charm and coziness one would expect. A long desired fantasy had become a reality.

As long as I can remember I always dreamed of living in a very old house. Quite by accident I found this gem. When it became apparent that I could make my lifelong dream a reality I jumped in and have never looked back or regretted my decision. I suppose you could say that I waited until I was sure I could have what I've always wanted and now that I had it I was content. I suppose you could say that; I suppose although I had attained a major goal, this house, there were still parts of my life that needed shall we say some fine tuning.

Settling into my favorite chair, soft green polished cotton with tiny white tea roses and layers of ruffles around the bottom, so very girly I appreciated the simple fact that it felt comfortable and luxurious to me, cradling my body just as I planned it should. I moved a bit closer to my antique roll top desk, keyboard ever ready, hit enter, waited for the welcome screen to appear on the monitor of my not so old gateway to the modern world.

I'm smiling, the combination of old and new still amazes me. I love deep dark wood, antique furniture and old things yet couldn't picture my life without certain modern conveniences like air conditioning and this computer. There is something to be said about wondering who sat at this desk before me? Was it common place using perhaps quill and parchment only now to be the center of twenty-first century means of communication?

As you know, my name is Layla Chapwell. I've defined, characterized, branded and described myself ad nauseam. Perhaps I'll practice self-restraint and abstain from offering the same redundant and repetitious self-portrait which by now would be quite mind-numbing. If there isn't a mental picture for you to imagine of me after all this time I seriously doubt that adding anything would enhance your perception?

However, it suddenly occurs to me that perhaps you're a first time reader and in that case you wouldn't know what I expect you to know? In the vain of being helpful, alright a brief synopsis then.

I am blessed with dark auburn shoulder length hair, deep green eyes, very Irish fair complexion, a curvy full figured woman's body, men appear to admire. For the most part a personality that would be described as unusually and predominantly happy. I often think I should be dancing, sipping champagne, painting the town red and singing in the rain. You'd think by now I'd have learned all there is to know about men and love. There are times I simply enjoy romancing the blues.

I compose and write usually with a sense of the sweet and romantic. Yes, my stories are sensual, erotic tales, some based on fantasy although even in my fantasies there is always some practicality of fact.

My preferred principal point of consideration is the older man. If he's in his so called golden years of life, in his seventies or older, a perfect man or perhaps my perfect man. Not so sure that men in that age group actually consider this the golden phase of their lives. If it were within my power, I would make it so for each and every one.

It isn't unusual for me to receive several e-mails on a daily basis from older gentleman, and unexpectedly like minded ladies who have read and enjoyed my stories. I'm very grateful for the time taken by those who enjoy my tales to take a few minutes and express their thoughts to me. Quite often they reveal that they've celebrated in some personal enjoyment.

My belief is simple; if someone makes the effort to contact me I at the very least should respond in kind and thank them for their comments and for the most part extremely revealing gracious compliments. Time taken out of one's life to let another know that some joy was found by something you did is always celebrated and very much appreciated.

I have a personal philosophy. One thing I will tell you is that life for me is like an ardent lover, it allows you to discover your reason for being. Sooner or later you'll understand what you're all about. Living in the shadows, hiding from the strange, the unknown, refusing to explore the different, shielding yourself from the experience that might help to guide you only brings you regret that won't go away.

Likewise, life is jam-packed with possible dangers, problematic strangers at every turn. You have to seek the light of life to enjoy life. The more you pursue the brightness you learn and realize that life is actually kind. Soon you see that there's no way to push away the shadows and let the sun come out if you don't step out of the shadows that hide you. I seem to step onto a soap box now and then. Smiling at myself, maybe I just like to add something that forces you to think outside the box.

I do my very best to live a good life, walk that straight and narrow. My mother told me to live right and always beware of handsome strangers that knock on your door. "Layla, men are a thinking woman's nightmare; they think you won't, you think you will. A man walks into your life like a bolt from the blue, clever, charming, slightly disquieting and suddenly he begins to make sense. That's the lightning striking but remember with every bolt comes the thunder to remind you that storms can be deadly if you're not careful." I make every effort to refrain from creating storms, bad habits. Even though I'm a most definitely a thinking woman I've got one admittedly bad habit, dirty old men.

My mind is filled with a point of view that others might find confusing and confounding yet to me they're just everyday normal manifestations. I've been known to give people a headache now and then. In the end I can usually put my thoughts into a perspective that others can logically understand. My god, can I drift?

Right now there was something waiting for me. Now that I was completely comfortable in my little world I reached for my mouse and clicked on the tiny red circle that told me I had mail.

I felt a warm smile and maybe a tingle when I saw a new message from a very interesting gentleman that I have been, how do I describe it? Can't really say talking to, or conversing with, since our only contact was and is through e-mail. In any case we had a relationship that was for all point and purpose an extension of a fantasy for lack of a better description.

The ever popular "Internet Relationship" makes me laugh actually. How can you call something anything that is restricted to the back and forth of words that magically appear from anywhere in the universe on a screen in the privacy of your bedroom a relationship? This is the reality of the twenty-first century, and a question that shall forever have no definitive answer.

Perhaps some background can put this in perspective for you?

As I've shared, I write erotic stories and submit them to this website which caters to what I would guesstimate are both amateur writers, and excitement seekers. Words, photos, video's and I suppose real time chat in some cases offering inspiration to the searching soul who requires some personal sexual gratification that in many cases evades their lives.

There is an array of what is commonly known as stroke stories. These down and dirty, very graphic hard core stories that will get you where you want to go without anything more than a quick read. You're reading this story, either because you're an admirer of my stories or you're just checking the site for something that speaks to you.

No doubt there is certainly something to be found for everyone. Isn't that a comfort of sorts?

My stories are a combination of my real life experiences and special desires which speak to the older more mature man. My subjects are the self-professed dirty old men. Of course we each have our own idea of what actually constitutes both old and dirty. The communiques I receive are for the most part generally from a subgroup of older men who I have lovingly and with the utmost respect given the nom de plume of "Dirty Old Men" my treasure trove of inspiration.

Some are a few lines, others an in-depth dissertation both of which I thoroughly enjoy.

The particular e-mail that made me smile was from a man who I actually consider a mere youth in the grand scheme of my world. I had the sense that he certainly isn't yet in his golden years.

I suppose that if one reads a story that lights his fire the next step naturally would be to seek a one on one with the author to enhance the experience. In other words, many request a direct connection with me in hopes of adding to the enjoyment of my stories, suggesting that I include their particular interests in my next creation.

There were immediately components regarding Benjamin that conveyed something that intrigued me. Perhaps the simple knowledge that he appeared intelligent, and as later revealed, he was a gifted writer in his own right. Although I was to learn that he never actually submitted any of his work he certainly would have quite a following if he chose to. During the very early days of our budding association he wrote a story for me, a gesture which was something I hadn't experienced before. The story was his perceptual depiction of who Layla is and how she both perceives and enjoys life.

It seemed that Benjamin had appreciated my tales and always took a few minutes to send me a note telling me how much he enjoyed himself and looked forward to my new stories. As I've said, I do make it a point to acknowledge each and every note I receive. Some have created lasting friendships and others have been a simple thank you. There are those notes that perhaps suggested a future story line that would add to the pleasure of the reader and I have responded to thank them for their insight and suggestions.

There was something else about Benjamin that struck a chord. In his response to my initial thank you he very distinctly and clearly stated that he would like to begin a back and forth that would explore our personal fantasies and perhaps build upon some private sexual fetishes that we were both interested in and attracted to.

The difference in his request was in fact a declaration of his guidelines for such an affiliation to take place. Benjamin it seemed, had rules.

"I do not Skype, web cam, exchange photos, phone numbers or too many personal details, and I'm strict about it. I had one terrible incident and will not risk that again."

That is the authentic admonition in blazing red, quite clear and concise. Why was this odd to me?

There is generally an almost immediate request for exactly the many things Benjamin was adamantly opposed to. It was normally me who stated that these same requests would likely not be forth coming. There are abundant whys and wherefores for being extremely restrained when sharing with a virtual stranger. Having experienced the pitfalls personally, we both understood the reasonability, and not merely accepted the rules, we honored them in complete agreement.

So, here was an intelligent man, who was unexpectedly agreeable he himself requesting that our relationship be confined to shall we say the purely psychological and imaginary world of the internet and our mutual interest in fantasy. The benefits from my point of view were seemingly endless.

Over the next several weeks we spent many hours exploring our blossoming interest in each other, strictly adhering to his directive. It should come as no surprise to anyone that I have a tendency towards exhibiting shall I say dominant sexual submission. Perhaps a dichotomy at best. My newfound friend had deduced that Layla has the ability to elicit from her lovers exactly what she wants yet permits, actually encourages them to be the dominant force.

I eagerly clicked on the latest reply from Benjamin. Sitting in my chair, reading each word, imagining the fantasy coming to life I quietly took each mentally inspiring graphic in and felt my body reacting much in the manner that his words were meant to elicit. Our little scene was speaking to my dominance and sweet Benjamin's submission. In our latest imaginary tale of lust, I had suggested that he meet me for lunch and inspire me to want something more than was ultimately offered on the menu.

His response fed me, titillating and tempting to say the least. My darling lover was presenting a possible visualization and I was enthralled. This was his imagining of our physical meeting.

Benjamin began with providing me a conceptual picture. What I found so intriguing was that I wasn't the storyteller in this case. I enjoyed Benjamin taking the lead. Remember, I find a man who is dominating very appealing, submissive dominance, fascinating.

"I am waiting for you dear Layla in the restaurant as instructed, I sit in the quiet, ready for our prearranged "date." You arrive and smile, seeing me sitting across from your favorite booth. The hostess leaves you and you slide into your booth facing me, positioned across the aisle from mine. You bend slightly to sit on the edge of the seat and my eyes drift to your delicious cleavage. Delicious, I know, because I have tasted that sweet flesh before."

Who wouldn't enjoy being delicious?

"As you sit and move into the booth, your legs spread and you shamelessly pull your dress up over your knees. My heart races when I glimpse your upper legs, curvaceous supple thighs and the panties in the shadow of your dress. Talking privately in public is erotic sometimes and you whisper over to me."

His dialogue was intriguing and to the point. These were the questions I would appropriately ask to stir his interest and build on a fantasy we had discussed.

"Benjamin, did you see my legs?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Do you like looking at my legs?"

"Yes, I really do; they're beautiful."

"Thank you. Did you see my breasts?"

"Yes, ma'am; they're gorgeous."

"Thank you, Benjamin. What are you thinking about right now, Benjamin?"

"About giving your body a bath with my tongue, ma'am."

"Is that all?"

"No, ma'am, then making love with you."

"I see. Does that involve starting with your head between my legs?"

"Oh, yes, ma'am, if you will allow it."

"And I suppose you'll want to see more of my panties?"

"Yes, ma'am.

"And why is that, Benjamin?"

"I like to see your mound and tuft of hair pressing against the crotch of them."

"Does that excite you?"

"Yes, ma'am, a lot."

"Are you excited right now, Benjamin?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm very hard."

"If you do something for me, I'll give you a treat later; would you like that?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'll do whatever you want."

"Good. I'd like people to see how much you want me."

"Ma'am?"

"Grab yourself, Benjamin and stroke slowly until you're at full bloom."

(Complying.) "Yes...yes, ma'am."

"Now, I'm going to tell you something that will make you very, very hard, Benjamin. Would you like that?"

"Oh, yes, yes, ma'am, I would." (You lean towards me with a knowing grin on your face and whisper) "When we get home, I will sit on your face and let you feel my mound and my silky soft hair in my panties; would you like that?"

(Gulping, swallowing with excitement) "YES, oh, yes, ma'am!"