August to April

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August to April

August had to die so April could bloom

Copyright 2021 -- TheCyprisDoctrine

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-- Profile --

I live by myself; I own and live in the same building as the business I own. I wear socks that match my belt. I am a confident, attractive & excessively honest person with comedic tendencies.

My family gave me a hard time dropping out of college to start my own software business. I have a staff of twelve, and we host adult-only sites managing their online media. It is my dream job, with no schedule, no boss (except for me), and 96.5% free time.

Food: I love food with lots of flavor variations that are not overwhelmed or hiding behind hot spices. I like my lovers the same way.

Movies: Anything Star Trek, Star Wars, or involving Superheros or spies. I also enjoy porn parodies.

Six Things I Would Never do Without:

• Laughter/ comedy

• A best friend who is also my lover

• Sex

• Quality take-out

I'm not joking about the sex. Sexual affection is as important to me as is the ability to have an open and honest dialog about any topic.

Fair warning: Erotic media is my business and how I make a living.

Explicit adult pornography is an integral part of my life.

-- April --

That's the online profile I posted a few months back. Not surprisingly, I did not get a lot of takers. A few hookers replied, offering unlimited access in exchange for a place to stay and some wannabe adult stars looking for a back door into the business. I have access to all the meaningless sex I want, and I'm not in the business of making adult films. My company only backs them up and maintains the software that runs on the servers we host or support.

April was the only serious inquiry, the only one willing to accept that pornography was part of who I was and how I made a living. After several online chats, it was obvious April understood my work's side-effects included a natural tendency to be aroused all of the time. At least it is for me, and I'm ok with that.

April also seemed ok that several of my employees were women and usually just as aroused and indulgent as the men I employ. I enjoy watching porn and the effect it has on me. I hire people who have the same mindset. When it comes to love and what I want in a domestic partnership, I want someone who understands those things about my life and is still willing to watch porn with me as part of my work and because I enjoy watching it. As I said before, it's my dream job.

April quickly became my dream woman after our first date. Our conversations flowed back and forth like we were long-lost friends reunited as if no time had passed. We agreed on just about everything, and the things we didn't agree on were unimportant or trivial, or at least something we could playfully agree to disagree with. April had a way of teasing me that reminded me of my best friend in high school and until I dropped out of college. We end up going our separate ways even though I offered him a half interest in the company he inspired me to create. Whenever April reminded me of him, the way she laughed, or some witty observation she shared, I both regretted losing contact and rejoiced having found someone who kept his spirit alive.

Knowing he died several years ago, right about the time my business took off, a time when I reflectively think he needed me most, is a pang of guilt that still clings to my soul. After all, the post-graduation trip we took the summer after high school became the spark that ignited my imagination. He came up with the idea to merge my near-obsession with porn with my innate technology skills to create a successful business. I looked but never found a secret wife or children after he died, fully intending to share my success with his family (without telling them how he inspired me to find a way to make money watching porn, of course.)

I admit it; maybe I'm a little too comfortable watching porn as much as I do. After all, the women I see every day receive compensation for having sex or getting naked without prompting or coercion. Knowing that about me, maybe you'll understand that I'm not very good with social cues. To a certain extent, given the business I'm in, I go out of my way to ignore flirting so I don't get the wrong message or go too far too fast. To me, if a woman I'm dating does not seductively disrobe in front of me or blatantly tell me she wants to fuck; I'm going to error on the side of caution and assume she's not interested.

-- Cues --

April and I had been dating on and off for a while, and honestly, I was having such a good time enjoying April's company and our time together that I didn't pick up on the subtle clues she offered. It took more than the repeated caresses of April's finger across my cheek or April's entire hand caressing my inner thigh to get her message across. It was not until a firm palm pressed to my jeans-shielded cock, and an eye-locked squeeze of my shaft under the table that I understood it was time to move to someplace more intimate.

I paid the bill, and April led me to a light-deprived spot under some trees a few blocks away. In the dark, I felt April push my back against a tree, then kiss me. It was a firm, determined, open-mouth kiss. April's tongue was aggressively snaking around mine and the openness of my mouth. At the same time, April's hand squirmed past the edge of my pants, seeking out and finding my erection.

Before I knew it, she was down on her knees, taking my jeans with her. She wrapped my fingers around my instantly hard cock. I watched in pleasured disbelieve as she licked my cock from the bottom of my shaft up to the leaking mushroom head of my circumcised penis. Her tongue swirled the head of my cock, making my knees weak and my hips want to thrust forward. I almost came when her lips began to suckle on just the tip as her hand stroked my cock with just the right amount of pressure and speed.

Honestly, it was the best blow job I'd ever had, and I've had more than my fair share. April's subtle skills and aggressive technique quickly had me quietly cursing, "Fuck!" then puffing, "You're going to make me cum."

Wordlessly, April continued, although her grasp tightened a little, and her eagerness to make me cum sped up her stroking efforts. I leaned back against the tree, my shoulder blades curving around the trunk and the bottom of my spine finding purchase so I could relax and enjoy my orgasmic gift. My hand reached out to caress her hair, but she deflected my arm. I nodded to myself, understanding some women hated to have a man hold her head and pull her mouth down onto his cock while she was giving head. After all, "it's called giving head, not forcing head," recalling one of my employees expressing her opinion during a staff meeting.

My arms reached back to hold on to the tree's trunk, having nothing else to do. My hips weren't so kind, trying to shove my cock to the back of April's throat when her expert oral activities induced one unconscious spasm after another.

Having already verbalized my pending eruption, I quietly grunted as I relaxed and set my cum free. April must have sensed me about to squirt, maybe it was the way my cock started to pulsate, or perhaps my balls twitched in the grasp of her tender fingers. In either case, the moment I felt the cum at the base of my shaft racing to escape, the vacuum around my cock's head tripled. April tightened her grip and stroked me faster as her tongue assaulted the eye of my penis. My spewing cum pushed against her attempted penetration of my penis' eye, and her concaved cheeks puffed up like balloons as I filled her mouth with my cum. But she didn't spill a drop.

April knew what she was doing, and she kept doing it long after my first load. April's overly eager mouth and tongue tried to milk more out of me, overstimulating my senses, reversing my hips from thrusting forward to retreating from the extreme pleasure being injected into my cock by her tongue and puckered lips. The tree behind my butt prevented my cock's escape from her ravenous and persistent feeding, making my cock and balls continue to twitch long after my balls were empty.

When April finally stood up, freeing my cock from her oral captivity, she wordlessly kissed me again, her hands grasping and holding the sides of my head as she pressed her mouth to mine. That's when I discovered she had not swallowed any of my cum. Her tongue playfully but insistently shoveling my ejaculate from her mouth into mine. April held me to the tree as her oral muscle snaked around mine, making sure I tasted what I had expected her to swallow. My tongue ventured forth into her mouth, sharing my gooey, stringy cream equally. My cum flowing back and forth between our mouths, using our tongues as bridges, was almost erotic enough to get me hard again, almost, but not quite.

-- Checked Boxes --

April ground her body to mine with the same enthusiasm as her tongue invaded my mouth. There was a deep-rooted passion in April, one I hoped she would share with me often. Lost in a fantasy world in my mind, various perversions I had seen while doing what I get paid to do, involving her and me, flashed through my mind. I also saw something I had dreamed of, but never with, or about a specific person. The thing that drove me to post my profile on a dating site flared in front of my mind's eye, and April was at the center of the pyre burning in my heart.

She checked every box I had imagined I wanted with or from the person I wanted to cuddle up next to every morning and share sexual affections with every night until we fell asleep in each other arms. She seemed perfectly content with my work, even after visiting my office a few times. I had never seen or felt her passion before, but I wanted more. She was everything I wanted in a lover, the connections, the commonalities, the playful banter, and the unsolicited sexual affection she was demonstrating at that moment.

April pulled away after my hand worked down her back, past her bra strap, beyond her panties, and stopped clenching her ass as we shared a cum kiss. When my hand slid around her hips, moving toward her pleasure center, she pushed away. I saw fear in her eyes, then tears sparkling in the limited light. Her body detached from mine then, holding me at arm's length, she whispered, "I think it's time for us to call it a night."

I'm not very socially intelligent, but I knew enough not to ask why or push her do to something she wasn't ready to do. She had also become too important to me to fuck up what we had by fucking up our fucking. So, I quietly replied, "Of course. I understand," which I didn't.

Silence suffocated our walk back to her car. As if six inches of snow had fallen around our relationship, sucking the sounds from our shared reality. Simon and Garfunkel's song took on new meaning to me; nothing, not even her heels clicking on the sidewalk, seemed to register beyond my ears.

April's the only woman who has accepted every strange perversion about my life, and her personality has merged with mine as if we were custom-made sprockets inside a hand-crafted watch. If the only sexual affection she was willing to share were blow-jobs like the one she just gave me, I think I could live with that. That's when I decided I'd do whatever it took to make this incredibly sexy and passionate woman my best friend, lover, and eventually my wife.

She held my arm and occasionally leaned her head against my shoulder as we waited for a safe-crosswalk signal. The dabs of tears stinging my skin through my shirt suggested she was holding back some deeply personal trauma. When she looked up to kiss me under the bright light over her car, my suspicions were confirmed. Her make-up had become a rainbow of hues flowing from her eyes. She kissed me tenderly with closed lips. Caressed my face and appoligied.

"I'm sorry," she cooed, "I want to... I'm not ready to go there... yet." As I looked past her tear-stained eyes, I heard Al Stewart's voice singing the lyrics to 'Year of the Cat' in the back of my mind, "Like a watercolor in the rain, Don't bother asking for explanations. She'll just tell you that she came, In the year of the cat."

I offered some kind words of understanding I don't remember, as Al's song replayed over and over in my head, replacing the former silence around me with a constant replay of a never-ending song. My entire drive home, Al's sagacious lyrics described what had become our relationship. She didn't give me time for questions. She had locked my arms in hers, and my sense of direction had completely disappeared. When I finally made it back to my apartment, I looked up "The Year of the Cat," and, although I didn't quite understand everything Al was telling me, ninety percent of a song released in 1976 had just detailed everything I felt about April.

-- Year of the Cat --

Al stuck with me, mostly as a mental convulsion replay in my head all day long, or me struggling to glean any meaning from his insightful explanation of my feelings for April. For the two weeks after, I felt as if my life had a river running through... everything good about me washed out to a lonely ocean of depression and despair. I was a terrible boss, detached and uncaring, passing off any work I could as April's eyes and Al's voice refused to exit the forefront of my mind.

Almost two suffering weeks later, like the cat Al had made her out to be, April snuck into my office without making a sound. I twisted around in my chair when April's reflection appeared on my computer screen. I needed to make sure the image I saw was not a delusion, and it was as if Al had seen her with my eyes before I was born, both shining like the moon in the sea. I raced to embrace her. I don't know what patchouli smells like, but I do know there was no way it was as amazing as the cloud of love that clung to her skin and lived within her hair.

I kissed her quickly, with my mouth closed, not wanting to push her in any way. As I gently moved her to arm's length, I surprised myself as I declared, "I love you, and I don't want to do anything that will make you feel uncomfortable. I'm more than willing to take this as fast or as slow as you want."

Her eyes began to puddle as she quietly asked, "Is there someplace we can talk... alone," turning her view toward the industrial-styled glass panes that defined my office and overlooked the bull-pen of my employees. Smirking as she nodded toward my computer's screen filled with an orgy of men and women silently playing as she cooed playfully, "And, without so many wonderful distractions."

April had visited my office several times, pre-date night or lunch excursions kind of things. I had intentionally avoided showing her my apartment upstairs, fearing she would see it as me moving our relationship forward too fast. As I escorted her up the stairs to my private space, my insides felt like I had swallowed a battery, and its electricity was stinging my insides as if a swarm of angry bees and excited butterflies were doing battle.

At the top of the metal stairs, through a small foyer, I opened the door to my hidden world, "A hidden door I led her to... so take that, Al," I teased in my head.

I could spend a lot of time detailing and describing my single-room loft apartment. Just know it covered the same amount of space above as my business did below. There was a comfortably large bathroom with a walk-in shower, a separate bath, and a bidet for any lady visitors I might have. The kitchen occupied about a quarter of the overall space. My bed space matched the kitchen space, separated by a switch-back metal staircase that led to a patio I rarely used on the roof. The remainder of the open space was used for living, dining, watching TV, or playing video games. The view of out the industrial windows is not worthy of too many words as the only place I could afford at the time was in the middle of an industrial district. A place I strategically selected because there are no schools nearby that would force me out of business due to arcane pornography ordinances.

-- My world --

April entered my world, stopping a few feet inside, turning her head and then her body to survey what I hoped would become her world too. She was pulled toward the bookcase next to my personal computer, caressing the spines with one delicate finger as she silently read their titles. When she reached my high-school yearbooks, she stopped, turning back to look at me.

"I love you too," she declared without warning, quietly adding, "I have since the day we met." Her eyes harmonized with the dulcet tones of her pained heart as she took a step closer, glancing at the bed, then at me as she professed, "I want to make love to you."

Pausing a painfully long time as my heart stopped, waiting for her to continue. She inhaled, and I stopped breathing until her nervous words slowly escaped from their prison behind her lips, "I have a request... a condition... two... I need you to agree to both... before we go any further."

"Anything," I exhaled, able to breathe again.

"You have to let me do this at my own pace," she instructed, "You're the first man I've been with, and I want you to... let me find my way in my own time." Her unsteady voice clarified, "I want to do everything... and I want you just to lay there; I'll let you caress my face and my breasts when I'm ready... I'll let you touch me anywhere above my stomach, but nothing else and nowhere else." She breathed again before she explained, "I want to... enjoy being with you before I give myself to you."

I nodded, "I think I can do that."

"No," she insisted, "I need you to promise me... I need this... I need you to let me... let me enjoy being with you... to let me enjoy giving you pleasure."

"If all you want to do is give me pleasure," I replied honestly, "Then let's order in some Chinese and cuddle up on the couch and watch a movie."

"God," she cursed, "Stop making it so hard to love you the way I want to love you."

"Ok," I nodded, willingly surrendering to her conditions and restrictions, "Where do you want me," I asked, "And do you want me naked before we start, or is that something you want to do for me too?"

"Oh," she replied, confused, "I hadn't thought about that," pausing to stare at me as she contemplated her next steps before directing, "No... I want to take your clothes off... in the dark."

"The dark?" I questioned.

"That's my second condition," she confirmed, "Turn off all the lights, close the curtains... I want everything to be completely dark... no lights at all."

"Not sure I can do that," I answered honestly, looking around the loft at the warehouse-style windows that encircled most of the space. After considering all the options, I suggested, "I can turn off all the lights, but I can't block all the windows completely. I never got around to ordering enough curtains to blackout the entire apartment. How about I wear the nightshades I use to take a nap during the day?"

She pondered my suggestion before countering with her own, "And a blindfold."

"Both?" I chuckled before I nodded my agreement. April asked what I found so funny.

"Sometimes," I replied, moving over to the nightstand next to the bed, "You remind me of someone I used to know... in a good way. A very good way."

Turning around, dangling the eye-shaded from my finger like I had seen many women do with their panties in the videos I manage and maintain. April glared at me as she demanded, "Who is she?"

"Not she," I replied, "A he. My best friend before he moved away... then died. We were best buds through most of High School and the two years I attended college. We did everything together; we even spent a week in Reno after High School... without our parents knowing."r"

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