An Evening with Roza

I approached Roza as the sun was slipping behind the hills.

"I've come a long way to see you, baby" I whispered as I stood beside her in the twilight. She said nothing, but after all our years together, nothing needed to be said. We'd met in this place before, many times. Over the years, I had come to know her every curve, her every mood. We've had our share of quiet evening encounters where not a word was spoken, and wild weekend flings, full of passion, sweat and stink. So there was no longer any need for words -- we both knew what was next.

Instinctively, I slid the zipper open. She lay undulating quietly before me as I withdrew my tool. She watched in knowing anticipation as my rod grew to three times it's normal size. I held it firmly in my hands, taking a few tentative strokes until finally it was ready to do its work.

"Oh my God!" I shivered, as I slipped deep into her dark, silky wetness. I felt at home as her wetness surrounded me.

At first I moved very little, happy just to watch her. But gradually she teased me into motion with little circular motions of her own. I started slowly but soon warmed to the task, moving faster. Harder. Deeper. She gurgled quietly, saying not a word, but I could tell by the way she wrapped herself around me that she was glad to see me, too.

At least, she was at first. But slowly, it dawned upon me that nothing was happening this evening. Despite all my best moves, she lay beneath me, barely moving, not saying a word.

"Something wrong?" I asked, afraid of the answer.

Over and over my rod probed her secret spots, but it was to no avail. There would be no secrets told tonight.

A half hour had passed, but it was clear I was just going through the motions. Oh, there was no question that I knew what I was doing. I had done this before, and always with the desired effect -- sometimes multiple times! -- but alas, tonight was different. She seemed colder, less responsive than I'd seen her before. Those little circular motions began to diminish as her interest waned.

Was it over between us? I wondered.

As night closed in around us, I knew I could not last much longer. My stamina was not that of a young man. Sensing no signs from her that my probing was having any effect, I felt myself shrinking from the cold reception.

Finally, I could probe no more. Embarrassed, I pulled myself from her, defeated. She stayed in her bed, sighed softly and turned a cold shoulder to me in the darkness. Dripping wet and panting from the exertion, I sat alongside her for a moment, watching in silence while I caught my breath. A faintly fishy smell hung in the air, but it was a smell that spoke only of what could have been. Ghost smells. A haunting reminder of what had been in the past.

"Oh well, maybe next time" I said nonchalantly as I turned to leave.

(and to myself, I thought: "Frigid bitch!").

"Clumsy incompetent bastard" she thought, but said nothing.

Photo by Laura Stephens. Text Copyright Scott Butner 2004, 2005