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SomethingEsoteric
Super-Earth
- Joined
- Sep 5, 2013
- Location
- Canada
All Meghan really wanted in life is to feel complete and she knew the only way she’d ever felt complete in her life before was in the arms of someone who cared and someone who cared that she say there, someone who held her tight and whispered all those sweet nothings she was quick to believe. –of course, diluted versions of that reality could sustain her, could keep her just happy enough to proceed, just happy enough to keep that smile on her face – the stupid one – the fool’s one – the don’t know any better curl at the corners of her lips. More than that it kept her feeling much less alone whenever she was just that, Meghan sometimes wondered if other people felt like she did – she knew they did though, she knew she wasn’t the only person in the world who felt like they were the only person in the world when they got home, when they were in the washroom, hell… sometimes Meghan could feel completely alone in a crowded room, all because of a void of intimacy in her life. She knew it wasn’t healthy and she knew it ultimately was the cause of itself because she knew her efforts to cure it, putting her heart in the hands of someone who’d never nurture it just renewed that pain but like an addict she searched out the next dose of love that was going to make her okay.
Meghan was so desperate for warmth she’d take it from whoever was willing to give often, case and point being Jacquelyn, a married woman many years senior to herself, her boss and someone she knew to be a pedantic and selfish woman, the kind of woman if she weren’t so painfully desperate she’d have trouble giving the time of day! –not because Meghan was the sort of girl to meet rough attitudes with one of her own but rather, because Meghan was the sort of girl who let that brand of nervous interfere with what social skills she did have. With a patient she could call upon vocational skills to overcome her other short comings – in the real world however, if she were forced into dealing with Miranda she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it with any real tact.
She’d grown a lot too though, there’d been a lot of people Meghan had-had to deal with in her years that were hard, a lot of people through the years, bosses, people who lived in her apartment, peers and directors in school – people that would have made her curl into herself and break down once upon a time, she was empowered enough to keep them from insult and injury in her chest but still she’d never overcome the need for intimacy.
So what was this?
Meghan winced when Miranda approached it with her thorn-pawed-lion arrogance, it was a defect of character she knew all too well and with that one she happened to find attractive in a shamefully endearing way, shameful was she for finding it endearing – and attractive, shameful because she knew it only hurt Miranda. Meghan frowned slightly, she was beginning to feel like every part of her morality was being tugged and torn. Not only was she being intimate with a patient but one who was emotionally shattered, one who was tip toeing around how desperate she was to leave this whole, to not be hurt by Meghan, from what she could tell, for it to be more than just… more than just Meghan getting her selfish cheap little thrill… Did Miranda want this to be more than just a little fling? –was that wrong? –or was it wrong for Meghan to continue moving forward with more than just glaring reservations on it… she didn’t intend for this to be any more than just… right? But Miranda was being so gentle and caring and “Hnnngh…” she moaned low into the woman’s lips as she turned her around and sat her on the desk, her body nearly convulsing she was trembling so softly, her breast coaxing into Miranda’s hand, her hips rolling slightly when she felt the other unbuttoning her jeans and removing the bundle of her blouse and vest tucked inside.
Another tell it was too late to turn back, an esoteric finality to her warning that made Meghan know Miranda was expecting more, was expecting so much from her she may not be able to give… she may not want to give. Meghan grimaced slightly but guilty or not she closed that door, she selfishly decided her wants and needs were more important than the potential of hurting Miranda and that was the choice that was too late to turn back now on.
Enter one of the single most sickening moments Meghan had felt in recent memory, a vulnerable woman, sickly and needy like herself, looking up into her eyes, pleading for something she wasn’t prepared to give… and she met those eyes with compliance and reciprocation and biting her lip and nodding like they were thinking all the same things… she didn’t say a word – but she lied with every part of herself before she allowed Miranda to turn her over and begin.
A mewl of want passed her lips, face turning on the desk, cheek pressing into the cold hard wood as Miranda’s hand slipped into her pants and glided over her simple soft cotton panties of baby-blue. It was only seconds and already the soft fabric was beginning to cling to her throbbing petals, each little teasing touch had her shifting slightly, moaning softly, Miranda was teasing her and it was working perfectly it seemed as her mewls turned to whines, Meghan’s body was moving more than Miranda’s fingers, her hips rolling and shifting against her, thighs tensing, back curling, it appeared the teases weren’t enough! –they weren’t they were maddening, making her all the more desperate, making her cringe, her eyes roll, her breath’s pace quicken with each passing moment, “Mirandaaa…” she warbled back when the compliment came, she didn’t want to beg but her body already was.
The lightest of thuds came from the desk as the hands she’d propped herself up with slipped from the desk, pinning one of Miranda’s arms beneath her as they reached back to her hips, one tugging at the right-most belt-loop of her jeans, the other bunching up the hems of her blouse and vest trying to pull each a different direction, remove them to move passed this initial stage if Miranda could grace her with that privilege.
Meghan was so desperate for warmth she’d take it from whoever was willing to give often, case and point being Jacquelyn, a married woman many years senior to herself, her boss and someone she knew to be a pedantic and selfish woman, the kind of woman if she weren’t so painfully desperate she’d have trouble giving the time of day! –not because Meghan was the sort of girl to meet rough attitudes with one of her own but rather, because Meghan was the sort of girl who let that brand of nervous interfere with what social skills she did have. With a patient she could call upon vocational skills to overcome her other short comings – in the real world however, if she were forced into dealing with Miranda she wasn’t sure she’d be able to do it with any real tact.
She’d grown a lot too though, there’d been a lot of people Meghan had-had to deal with in her years that were hard, a lot of people through the years, bosses, people who lived in her apartment, peers and directors in school – people that would have made her curl into herself and break down once upon a time, she was empowered enough to keep them from insult and injury in her chest but still she’d never overcome the need for intimacy.
So what was this?
Meghan winced when Miranda approached it with her thorn-pawed-lion arrogance, it was a defect of character she knew all too well and with that one she happened to find attractive in a shamefully endearing way, shameful was she for finding it endearing – and attractive, shameful because she knew it only hurt Miranda. Meghan frowned slightly, she was beginning to feel like every part of her morality was being tugged and torn. Not only was she being intimate with a patient but one who was emotionally shattered, one who was tip toeing around how desperate she was to leave this whole, to not be hurt by Meghan, from what she could tell, for it to be more than just… more than just Meghan getting her selfish cheap little thrill… Did Miranda want this to be more than just a little fling? –was that wrong? –or was it wrong for Meghan to continue moving forward with more than just glaring reservations on it… she didn’t intend for this to be any more than just… right? But Miranda was being so gentle and caring and “Hnnngh…” she moaned low into the woman’s lips as she turned her around and sat her on the desk, her body nearly convulsing she was trembling so softly, her breast coaxing into Miranda’s hand, her hips rolling slightly when she felt the other unbuttoning her jeans and removing the bundle of her blouse and vest tucked inside.
Another tell it was too late to turn back, an esoteric finality to her warning that made Meghan know Miranda was expecting more, was expecting so much from her she may not be able to give… she may not want to give. Meghan grimaced slightly but guilty or not she closed that door, she selfishly decided her wants and needs were more important than the potential of hurting Miranda and that was the choice that was too late to turn back now on.
Enter one of the single most sickening moments Meghan had felt in recent memory, a vulnerable woman, sickly and needy like herself, looking up into her eyes, pleading for something she wasn’t prepared to give… and she met those eyes with compliance and reciprocation and biting her lip and nodding like they were thinking all the same things… she didn’t say a word – but she lied with every part of herself before she allowed Miranda to turn her over and begin.
A mewl of want passed her lips, face turning on the desk, cheek pressing into the cold hard wood as Miranda’s hand slipped into her pants and glided over her simple soft cotton panties of baby-blue. It was only seconds and already the soft fabric was beginning to cling to her throbbing petals, each little teasing touch had her shifting slightly, moaning softly, Miranda was teasing her and it was working perfectly it seemed as her mewls turned to whines, Meghan’s body was moving more than Miranda’s fingers, her hips rolling and shifting against her, thighs tensing, back curling, it appeared the teases weren’t enough! –they weren’t they were maddening, making her all the more desperate, making her cringe, her eyes roll, her breath’s pace quicken with each passing moment, “Mirandaaa…” she warbled back when the compliment came, she didn’t want to beg but her body already was.
The lightest of thuds came from the desk as the hands she’d propped herself up with slipped from the desk, pinning one of Miranda’s arms beneath her as they reached back to her hips, one tugging at the right-most belt-loop of her jeans, the other bunching up the hems of her blouse and vest trying to pull each a different direction, remove them to move passed this initial stage if Miranda could grace her with that privilege.
