This one is not mine

From a man with an imagination that knows to stoke the very depth of all that drives RB.

Who says it does not start with the imagination...




".....Do fantasies grow wings and fly?He had been taking photos with his eyes when he saw her from time to time.

The artist's eye capturing the glint in her eye, the fluttering uncertainty being replaced by the wise look. So many moods that hid in her eyes and that came to the fore from time to time. He fiddled with the camera, worried about the light, the shutter speed and the ISO....a trinity that requires fine balance to achieve the desired outcome. Both vulnerable - she reclining exposed and feeling vulnerable to the eye of the camera - him worried about the settings, angles and wanting to do her form justice and record the moment in time.

Slowly the time crept forward and he directed her gently, moving a bit seeing in his mind's eye the image he was after. Magically she started relax and became aware of her power she yielded, a frown made place for a slight smile, evolving into a knowing smile. She transformed and felt her wings unfold, a metamorphosis taking shape as the butterfly woke.

He changed an angle, lifted the camera, adjusted the zoom and snapped an image....gave a small direction for change and waited then again the camera became his eye and he snapped another image. Freezing the moment in time and inspecting the back to see the image he let out a soft moan.

Her ears picked it up and she smiled at herself. Her inner goddess formed a fist and and shouted out "Yes, I have the power" She smiled with her eyes, pouting her lips and looked at him with intensity....moving her leg slightly upwards and arching her back a little revealing a bit more.

The camera clicked and the game afoot, she suggested a change, he suggested a change and like a dance the poses flowed and the magic spread....at a point in time she noted the slight bulge and coyly asked to see the last few photos. He moved closer and showed her the images on the back of the screen when she reached up and pulled him close for a kiss......

Afterwards she smiled and asked him to take a few last photos, her hair a mess, makeup smudged but the series of images needed a final act recorded, she had succeeded in enticing and the last images evidence of the seduction and the tumultuous coupling that occurred......"

Mr. xyz.

La la laaaing as she waited , dressed in very little, smiling at her image in the mirror, thinking for the umpteenth time , no more glances in the mirror! It was tiring!

But...that was the nature of the beast, to be the best representation of oneself...aesthetically .

The real bit that lies deep within...the self...well, that was easy.

Never having been one not to be presentable, fit the role, didn't require looking in the mirror at every possible opportunity posed. Her world revolved much deeper than "face " value or the pretense required no matter a designation, a position or relationship.

The confidence not lacking in this space of intimacies shared but , rather understanding the pleasing effect of aesthetics in the eye of the beholder.

In this game, that was nearly 50% , and maybe subconsciously even more, when it came to satisfaction of clients.

This was a little different. It required her to show a little more than pleasing the client.

It required the lens to capture a moment many would not experience nor have knowledge of.

It required the reveal of the innermost self.

It required her to engage him, behind the camera lens.

Like anything posed, it unsettled her. Rather to try tell a tale, was her thing than pose a moment.

And...she needed the "muse" to bring her innermost to surface.

He did.

Sitting there in the corner, lighting cigarette after cigarette. Relaxed. Chatting.

She knew he would do it for her.

Not a chance to not get him to forget the purpose of their afternoon.

Not a chance to not unzip the hard manliness he cared not to hide.

Not a chance to not forget the correct lighting and camera flash.


Not a chance not to show him why posing was not her thing but , rather a moment private, passionate , intense and his to enjoy without witness by others.

A "secret" share uninhibited, sincere and never to be forgotten.


The camera did not fail to capture it....the camera was just forgotten.


RB.

She smiled to herself.

If she was that sort that fell in love with every compliment, all sorts of awesome proposals and offers...she would be an absolute mess.

Thinking how life knows to throw a so called curve ball , taking one off a path travelled where successes society deemed worthy and praised and coveted were not strange to her at all.

And laying on the sofa , comfortably near naked , once again to think of how little society truly knew about anything and simply because a mass said that was the right way to go, so anything else was considered... unworthy.

It was his visit that had her once again, psychologising and philosophising.

He had said...

"She is my wife, the mother of my children. You know what I mean. And we men are men."

In response to her...

"If you were not married I would make you mine." Standing and appreciating the man man he was.

Some people just click more than others but, in her case she had a thing about surrendering to her "walk-in lovers" without reserve.

She allowed her spirit to search theirs out and make them her lovers in the true sense.

She loved the freedom of choice , unreserved, sincere and wanting to be "theirs" in touch and sight and scent and taste yet....never forgetting the boundaries.

An easy thing to imagine one might be falling in love.

The lust of flesh...she had no shame when it came to that.

And she shared sincerely as her mind, heart, body and soulful spirit belonged to noone.

She wondered how many men and women knew to distinguish the layer upon layer of what it was that made an attraction fatal.

She knew....she met so many of them.

The husband's of other women and she loved them like their wives never had.

Drifting off to sleep wondering if any of those husband's would be happy with her as their mistress and seek no other pussy out.

She wonder...especially after what he had said...

Would it be a case of .

"A mistress is supposed to be a mistress . Not a second wife. And we men are men."

It felt good to be stingy with her heart and her body....she liked it that way for now.

She was not into fatal attractions.

RB.

On 2025-01-09 18:48:56 Russian Bridgitte said:
She smiled to herself.



She loved the freedom of choice , unreserved, sincere and wanting to be "theirs" in touch and sight and scent and taste yet....never forgetting the boundaries.

An easy thing to imagine one might be falling in love.


She was not into fatal attractions.

RB.

Pardon me for barging in....some salient points that highlight why I love my lovers in the Purple world....wonderful ladies....lovers for an hour or more..

Like ships that meet in the middle of the ocean, then departing for the respective destinations again. A moment to treasure but not getting stuck at the point in the middle of the ocean ;-)

Dearest jasimo

Never ever apologise for interacting on ANY of my posts or comments on any threadi may interact on.

Your interaction is never one with malice or bad intent...even the times where you pose questions and may call me out on some of my views.

I am fond of debate and thought and opinion sharing and have learnt much through such interaction.

As to your comment above

...very salient points indeed.

Kiss you fondly.

RB.

" ...I do hope you haven't been drinking and driving..." she said, looking at the can of beer he held as he stepped out of his car, walking toward her , grinning most naughtily.

"I have just come from up the road ." He responded

"Mmmmmmm..." she said, hugging him close, " just make sure you don't endanger another person's life as well as yours..."

And then took his face in her hands, plonked a solid kiss on his lips and said

"Come! Let us be naughty!"...she had gaged he wasn't drunk and thus happy to invite him in.

Him, Walking out the shower , flip flops on , can of beer in his hand, she looked at him and said...

"How's about we leave your wife in the other room and have you be all mine for the next hour?"

"Wife?"

"Yep. That can of beer..."

He laughed and said..."with pleasure, looking at you there is no competition. "...the can of beer forgotten and his hands finding many a womanly mound and curve to appreciate.

Once...

Twice...

And he wanted extended time and she smiled and said...

"I see she has no hold over you..."

"Who ?" He asked stroking her ass cheeks and kissing the nape of her neck

"Your wife in the other room..."

The can of beer forgotten..even on departure and a big build man with a skip in his step, alert and fresh, behind the steering wheel waving goodbye...until next time.

"Next time come alone!" she said smiling

"Most definitely!" He laughed.

RB.

Most certainly he was good looking.

Smiling to herself...she would call him "Certainly" .

A youngling, handsome , respectful with an exotic flare...eyes piercing and observant.

A little reserved.

One of those that knew to fly under the radar but as the saying goes...still waters do know to run deep.

A boundary set as to what was to happen and the difficulty keeping within those boundaries looking at the smoothness of a shaved nether region as well as every other part of his body...hairless.

The running of her tongue she would have loved to have in many a forbidden spot and especially a slow , all absorbing gentle lover kiss , locking with a mouth most kissable.

And every time she thought it best ....like when taking his balls in hand to....to ask "may I?" Not wishing to overstep the line,

His response was...
"Certainly. "

Mr Certainly , she definitely wanted him back

And

Most certainly she would engage more lustily and less reserved...he had promised he would return.

Sexy italiano that he was!

RB.

It is a tale to be told.

A tale that outdoes the imagination...a tale that spins its web of intimacy deep and passion reaching possibilities explored yet, many more left untouched....not enough time and sometimes worthy of the wait.

" Can you be my secretary?"

"I've always been my own boss."

"Then be my boss."

"Let's see how it goes. I am not good at acting...I like it spontaneous and real..."

Spontaneous and real was an understatement.

From sitting on the chair in his naked beautiful glory...a man that was keen to build those muscles under the guidance of a coach..wanting her to tease his cock with her shoes, her feet.

To getting him to kneel before her and slip his cock between her stockinged calves, to laying before her on the floor while she stood above him... him taking off her one stiletto so she could trample his cock and balls...gently gently...and then with her heel his tummy.

Their eyes locked.

That burning lust drawing her in, to take her other heel off and stand above him , giving him a glimpse of her womanness underneath her fitting dress.

The floor knew play like never before.

She was boss, very boss but such was boss play that ass cheeks, tits, mouth and more, cared not to limit the possibilities of a subservient man who manipulated her into believing...she was boss.

A bedroom tale where boundaries were not marred but rather the lead handed over just for a wee while.


She worshipped his manhood and he worshipped her womaness.

RB.

The doubt was there.

She could here it.

He liked what he heard, but needed that "something" to push him her way.

A raspy accented voice that put a smile on her face.

Mannered. Respectful...

Tick tick TICK!!!!...a perfect caller at that time of night.

Whatever it was, he made his way to her and stepping out of the car she looked at him and knew she would devour every part of him.

Viagra. She smiled.

It was easy to step into his personal space without being intrusive. He needed the "pick-me-up" tease.

And this one needed it slow.
Needed it sincere.
Needed the lust without the show.
His length, his girth...ever growing as she let herself go , taking command in her surrender to the "lovemaking" he was seeking.

She loved the way her tits looked with his cock between them.
She loved how she told him to not be shy and rather allow her to show him why viagra was not needed...running her tongue along his inner thigh right to the crease where the chance of his balls and cock rubbing up against her face was a guarantee....caressing his manliness with her cheek, allowing her hair to tickle and tease.
To put him into a position most men found intimidating yet, he gladly succumbed and she "fucked" him the way her imagination dictated.

...viagra my ass, she thought .

Sigh...when he left, knowing he was a traveler, she hoped he needed a refill of that sort of viagra labelled "RB" when back in town.

RB.

She sat looking out at the view...Sandton at night from the 16th floor, looking toward the east.

How amazing when the sun sets and the city lights come on.

He.

He had made sure to pamper her like the gentleman he was and even made her feel a little shy.

He kissed her stockinged feet,sat on the floor beside her and kissed her palms, the inner part of her forearm .

She continued to look at the view and when his teeth sunk gently into her thumb palm muscle and the pleasure of that gentle bite had her take a sharp breathe , turn toward him and invite him to have more of her, very telling in her hungry look.

She slid off the chair and went on her knees , leaning in to accept the soft gentle kiss that was waiting.

Their Sandton carpet love affair was a 16th floor memory she knew she would not forget too quickly and when climbing into a full lift of jovail partying men, she wondered if they knew the pleasure she had just been spoilt with.

Were her pheromones still abuzz...she had to wonder because she could feel the electricity between them and her.

Very woman she felt.


RB

...a story with their pics on my personal gallery.