Creating A School Shooter

Sadly, school shootings have become the new normal. We must ask why?

In this media-related work of fiction – Scono Sciuto weaves a story of just one possibility. Tortured and Tormented doesn’t takes sides and doesn’t discount other potential causes, it is simply a look inside one character, a broken character. 

Paperback version is available here 

Kindle version is available here

Please purchase your copy today


Available on Amazon.com

Tortured and Tormented:  creating a school shooter

t and t cover

Scono moves from erotic, to media-based, fiction. In doing so, the shrouded author continues to tell some of the most controversial stories of our time.

front cover t n t

Paper back list Price: $9.99

 

Kindle list Price: $2.99

ISBN-13: 978-1986600774

ISBN-10: 1986600777
BISAC: Fiction / Media Tie-In / General

We can’t escape the headlines: Mass murders occurring in our schools.

These horrific crimes and events lead us to ask –

Is evil born?
or
Is evil created?

What makes a school shooter?
Is it availability of guns?
Is it mental illness?
Could it be something else?

In this novelette by Scono Sciuto we delve into the world of a young student who wanted nothing more than acceptance, yet who was greeted with torture and torment.

Explore a different point of view into one of society’s greatest plagues.

From Scono….

  “I’m a storyteller, one who uses the written word to tell tales. I am not a professional essayist nor English professor. My grammar is not always perfect and my sentence structure not always correct. To me, what is most important, is having the reader get lost in the story.”

#schoolshooting #bullying #massmurder

 

 

What makes a school shooter?

Sadly, school shootings have become the new normal.

We must ask why?

In this media-related work of fiction — Scono Sciuto weaves a story of just one possibility. Tortured and Tormented doesn’t takes sides and doesn’t discount other potential causes, it is simply a look inside one character, one broken character.

 

Paperback version is available here

Kindle version is available here

Please purchase your copy today

Available on Amazon.com

Tortured and Tormented: creating a school shooter

 

Scono moves from erotic, to media-based, fiction. In doing so, the shrouded author continues to tell some of the most controversial stories of our time.

Paper back list Price: $9.99

44 pages

Kindle list Price: $2.99

ISBN-13: 978–1986600774

ISBN-10: 1986600777
BISAC: Fiction / Media Tie-In / General

We can’t escape the headlines: Mass murders occurring in our schools.

These horrific crimes and events lead us to ask –

Is evil born?
or
Is evil created?

What makes a school shooter?
Is it availability of guns?
Is it mental illness?
Could it be something else?

 

In this novelette by Scono Sciuto we delve into the world of a young student who wanted nothing more than acceptance, yet who was greeted with torture and torment.

Explore a different point of view into one of society’s greatest plagues.

From Scono….

“I’m a storyteller, one who uses the written word to tell tales. I am not a professional essayist nor English professor. My grammar is not always perfect and my sentence structure not always correct. To me, what is most important, is having the reader get lost in the story.”

 

Scono Sciuto is this generation’s hottest new author and the voice of erotic empowerment. A unique storyteller, Scono combines erotica with awareness, fusing strong feminine sexuality with female empowerment. In telling some of the most controversial stories of all time, Scono Sciuto is the strong voice for female sensuality in today’s modern world.

Tortured and Tormented – creating a school shooter

Paperback version is published

Please purchase your copy today


Now available on Amazon.com

 Tortured and Tormented:  creating a school shooter

t and t cover

Scono moves from erotic, to media-based, fiction. In doing so, the shrouded author continues to tell some of the most controversial stories of our time.


front cover t n tPaper back list Price: $9.99

44 pages

ISBN-13: 978-1986600774

ISBN-10: 1986600777
BISAC: Fiction / Media Tie-In / General

We can’t escape the headlines: Mass murders occurring in our schools.

These horrific crimes and events lead us to ask –

Is evil born?
or
Is evil created?

What makes a school shooter?
Is it availability of guns?
Is it mental illness?
Could it be something else?

In this novelette by Scono Sciuto we delve into the world of a young student who wanted nothing more than acceptance, yet who was greeted with torture and torment.

Explore a different point of view into one of society’s greatest plagues.

  From Scono….

  “I’m a storyteller, one who uses the written word to tell tales. I am not a professional essayist nor English professor. My grammar is not always perfect and my sentence structure not always correct. To me, what is most important, is having the reader get lost in the story.”

 

Soon To Be Released

 front cover t n tIs evil born?     

or   

Is evil created?     

What makes a school shooter? 

 Is it availability of guns?    

Is it mental illness?    

Could it be something else?   

 In this novelette by Scono Sciuto we delve into the world of a young student who wanted nothing  more than acceptance. Instead, he was greeted with torture and torment.   

Explore a different point of view into one of society’s greatest plagues.

 Scono Sciuto is this generation’s hottest new author and the voice of erotic empowerment. 

 A unique storyteller, one shrouded in mystery, Scono combines erotica with awareness, fusing strong feminine sexuality with female empowerment.

In the new novelette “Tortured and Tormented” Scono moves from erotica to a topic which   concerns and frightens every parent. In doing so, the shrouded author continues to tell some   of the most controversial stories of our time

  From Scono….

  “I’m a storyteller, one who uses the written word to tell tales. I am not a professional essayist nor English professor. My grammar is not always perfect and my sentence structure not always correct. To me, what is most important, is having the reader get lost in the story.”

Who is Scono Sciuto?

cropped-char1.jpgScono Sciuto is this generation’s hottest new author – the voice of erotic empowerment.

A unique storyteller, one shrouded in mystery, Scono combines erotica with awareness, fusing strong feminine sexuality with female empowerment.

From Scono….

“I’m a storyteller, one who uses the written word to tell tales. I am not a professional essayist nor English professor. My grammar is not always perfect and my sentence structure not always correct. To me, what is most important, is having the reader get lost in the story.”

FREE TODAY IN HONOR OF DAYLIGHT SAVING TIME

A FatherA Father

https://www.amazon.com/Father-Scono-Sciuto-ebook/dp/B0719NNDC4/
“I’m a storyteller, one who uses the written word to tell tales. I am not a professional essayist nor English professor. My grammar is not always perfect and my sentence structure not always correct. To me, what is most important, is having the reader get lost in the story, and, if but for a brief time, to escape life’s everyday worries.

Enjoy the story.”

 

Souls

Rain strikes upon the glass
Wind howls throughout the room

My essence departs
Along the gusts it rides
Yours it seeks
Together again they join

The passage of time is not relevant
The distance between us is erased
The realities of life which separate us are no longer tangible

Our souls again are entangled
Our souls no longer cry out into the void
Our souls are together as they have always been
Our souls are one with the other – never and forever

Relationship Status Stupidity

Facebook may very well be the beginning of the end of civilization. People log on to discuss everything from what foods they have eaten, to what obstacles they have overcome, to how often they have gone to the bathroom. People there project an image of a fantastical life they want you to believe they live; of which often times, the reality bears little to no resemblance.

Of all the crap listed on Facebook, the one that draws everyone’s attention is the relationship status. After someone views your profile picture, one that often puts forth a sultry best appearance, the eyes immediately search for the relationship status. For some inane or insane reason, a person viewing a profile of a person in Los Angeles, California, sits behind his or her computer in Brunswick, Maine, and thinks if they see single, divorced, widowed, open, or the high point of vulnerability and stupidity, “it’s complicated,” they immediately think they have a chance and hit the friend request button.

Take away the fact that any relationship besides open is just plain dumb and boring, Facebook does this to encourage fantasies of flesh peddling infidelity or Tinder like sexual encounters, what other reason would anyone care about a relationship status? Facebook promotes not simply a virtual social life, those in power are trying to push a virtual life to supplant real life. And, what better way to do so, than exploiting sexual fantasies and loneliness?

By blaring a person’s relationship status, Facebook is hoping to enable and encourage enthusiastic encounters leading to cybernetic adultery.

Leave the nonsensical, computer-generated world behind and embrace an open life of unbridled and unfettered true human contact sexuality.

Dump the relationship status and embrace the wild.

A Father

© 2017

by Scono Sciuto

All rights reserved. 

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

 

This tale is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s extremely vivid, and at time disturbing, imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

 A Father

by Scono Sciuto

It is so close to the date, yet, your desire will not be denied. We make love, unbridled is our passion. To unimagined climax, we bring each other.

Behind closed lids, your beautiful eyes are now hidden. I lay next to you. My hand, upon the outline of our child. Eager to see the world, he presses against your belly. I kiss your cheek. My love, I proclaim. I am with my family.

We are not asleep long.

A contraction wakes you.

You feel a pop, then a trickle.

It is time. We rush to your house. When we are near, you phone your sister. Within the hour, she will be there.

I am like a kid on Christmas morning. I have never felt such joy. I have never been so happy. A life, one created by our love, will soon be here.

My breathing is rapid.

Our son is coming.

My heart races.

We near your home. Your contractions continue. Less than ten minutes after the last, arrives the next.

Your face turns sad.  As you place the next call, you tell me you love me. My excitation dims. At his work, your husband’s phone rings.

Of paternity, he is unaware. I am the father. However, he remains, your husband. My joy is gone, in its place, despair.

It is he, who will witness the birth of my son.

It is he, who will hold him when our son breathes his first.

It is he, who will sit next to you, to share the advent of the life which we created.

I stop in front of your house. There is little time. You aren’t sure when next we will speak. I reassure you, all is fine. Before darting from the car, you tell me you love me and kiss me. As I pull away, the headlights of your sister’s car greet me.

To the hospital, I hurry. I observe you arrive, close behind, so does he. Blissfully blind to the truth, in he rushes.

I leave. For hours, I drive. I am not by your side. I am not there to hold your hand. I am not there to tell you to push. I am not there to wipe the sweat from your brow or tears from your cheek.

I don’t know how you are doing. I don’t know if you have yet given birth. I don’t know if our son has seen his first sight.

What I do know —

It is he, who our son will cry out for in the night.

It is he, who our son will consider his father.

It is he, who my son will call daddy.

Unexpected and unplanned, but not unwelcomed, was his conception. You attempted to leave, but each time you tried, unforeseen events prevented you. Tears fill my eyes.

I will never know my son.

It is that truth, which leads me to the revolver.

It is that truth, I mutter as I press the barrel to my head

It is that truth, I repeat over and over, as I cock the hammer.

It is that truth, the last words I speak, before the explosion echoes.

 

The End

  

The Embrace the Wild Fantasies

Embrace The Wild

Angelic Adultery

Addiction Salvation

For God

Creation’s Mother

Submissive Is Dominant

Faithfully Unfaithful

 

Also, by Scono Sciuto She Is The New Savior 

Keep an eye on Scono’s Amazon Author Page for new releases

 

A Father

Please be aware prior to purchasing, this story is just over 500 words in length.

My typical writings are in the genre of erotica, supernatural, spiritual and strong female characters. I rarely write from a man’s point of view. This story was inspired by a dream, it is my first attempt at Flash Fiction.

Embrace Your Wild – Let Cheating Be Your Freedom

You were caught cheating.

You started a blog, the purpose of which is self-flagellation .

Wow, you are really rough on yourself.

For what?

Parking your pecker in a strange place?

This is the problem with the puritanical construct of monogamy. Monogamy is not natural.

We aren’t meant to deprive ourselves of pleasure because a bunch of religious cultist founded a country.

You cheated, you made a perceived mistake, which by the way you didn’t, BIG FUCKING DEAL!

No matter what your motivation, no matter what drove you to the act, you did it, you fucked another human being – it is over, move on. You didn’t take a life. You didn’t commit genocide, you followed a natural desire for pleasure. An innate desire that a bunch of hypocritical moralist tell you, you should deny yourself.

You are going to see a brain butcher. For what? There is no profit for the head-shrinker if you get better. Your continued guilt is a steady source of income for someone who is either masturbating to your affairs, or having one him or herself.

Stop going to counseling, it is both a waste of your time and your money.

If forgiveness is what you seek, then forgive yourself. Although, forgiveness for fulfilling your desires is just plain stupid. If only you understood, there are so many people being unfaithful. They realize that faithfulness is nothing more than a silly construct of a society intent on controlling the masses.

Why you told your spouse, if you did, is beyond me. Telling her only hurt her. The perception that it would alleviate your guilt is incorrect. If anything, there is now even more guilt. The guilt that is the end product of your selfish confession. Ignorance is often times bliss. What one does not know, can not cause pain.

On the other hand, if you were caught, then the odds are good you wanted your liaisons to be exposed. It is very easy to covertly have an affair. Being found out is usually a sign that you want out of the relationship, you just aren’t being honest with yourself, or probably more likely, you don’t have the guts to leave.

Does everyone cheat? No.

Do most married couples cheat? Yes.

Marriage is not a fulfilling proposition — it is a chain, shackling one to a life of not only monogamy, but worst, monotony.

Imagine, just one food for the rest of your life?
Imagine, just one beverage to drink, one pair of pants to wear, one suit, one shirt?
Imagine, just one soap to use, shampoo, toothbrush?

If you are a man, imagine only tasting the emanations of one vagina for years, or even decades. Do you know that all women taste different. One beautiful, succulent snatch isn’t the same as the other. They have a different scent, a different taste, a different feel, and they all respond differently to your touch.

Imagine, having your cock sucked the same way two to three times a month, if that often.
Imagine, the same boring sexual position time after time?
Imagine, never savoring what another woman tastes like, feels like, moves like….

Just the same over, and over, and over, and over…

If you are a woman, imagine having to look at and touch the same cock each and every time you have sex? Think about the same size and shape filling you time after time. No variety, no change of pace. And imagine, having the same taste in your mouth, each and every time. Like women, all men taste different, feel different, have a different scent, make you respond differently and respond differently to you.

Variety is what makes life worth living. Think of how incredible it would be to have a different lover several times a week. A new scent, a new taste, a new position, a new shape, a new size… something exciting and different with each and every encounter.

That is what sex should be about… as many different lovers, as many different positions, as many different passions and many different experiences over the course of a lifetime.
If you have cheated, get out of the relationship if you are still there. You cheated for a reason, no matter what that reason is, you weren’t meant to be in that relationship.

Forgive yourself, move on, be happy with the person you are in the here and now. And, stay the fuck away from monogamous relationships. Monogamy is NOT a natural state.
Life is way too short to be beating yourself up. Cheating has set you free.

Remember, say no to monogamy and enjoy the pleasure the flesh does surely hold. And never settle for just one.

Oprah – Salvation’s Inspiration

Today we are pleased to post our interview with Scono Sciuto, the author of the incredible new novel, “She Is The New Savior.”

SSTN: Thank you very much for sitting down for us today.

Scono Sciuto: You’re welcome, thank you for asking me.

SSTN:  First question, which I think is the most obvious.  Who is, or was, your inspiration for Satin, the New Savior and Messiah?

Scono Sciuto:  That’s easy… Oprah Winfrey.

Photo of Oprah Winfrey at her 50th birthday pa...

Photo of Oprah Winfrey at her 50th birthday party at Hotel Bel Air (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

SSTN:  Oprah Winfrey?  Really? Come on! There aren’t any similarities between Oprah Winfrey and Satin.

Scono Sciuto:  You are correct, not physically and definitely not in their personalities and paths.  But, you see, to me —  Oprah Winfrey is the embodiment of the modern day feminist.  She never gave up being a woman to be successful.  She is a stunning woman physically, and she is even more beautiful because of her intelligence and her drive and desire to be successful.  Oprah went into daytime talk, which was dominated by a man, okay I guess someone of the male gender, Phil Donahue.  Oprah didn’t set out to be on par with Donahue, she set out, and eventually achieved to be better than him.  And, that is a lot of the story of Satin’s brand of feminism.

SSTN: I’m glad you brought up feminism. What exactly does this “fourth wave” feminism term mean?

Scono Sciuto: First off, I didn’t coin the term, but I like it. What I describe in The New Savior, is, as I see it, the fundamental flaw of feminism, this silly concept of wanting to be equal.  Women should  not merely be satisfied with being the equal of men, as a whole, they are superior to men. However, so many feminist are battling for parity — I simply do not understand it, at least the women in the battle.  The men who claim to be feminist do more harm than those that are blatantly  misogynistic.

SSTN: How so?

Scono Sciuto:  They are being deceitful. Because these male feminist don’t want women to realize their true potential.  They want them to be happy with the crumbs of equality.

SSTN: Why do you think that?

Scono Sciuto:  Because they are insecure.  The men, who avow that they are feminist, simply lack strength of self to admit that they are inferior to women.  Therefore, by convincing women that parity is the answer, they keep them repressed.

SSTN: How are these men repressing women if they want them to be equal?

Scono Sciuto:  As I have said, because women are superior.  If you hold back a leader or a champion in any endeavor, aren’t you actually repressing them?

SSTN: Yes, I guess you are.

Scono Sciuto:  So by convincing women to settle for equality, when they are actually superior, these men are in fact repressing women.

SSTN: Do you view She Is The New Savior, as Catholic bashing?

Scono Sciuto:  The short answer is no.   I can see how others may view it that way.  I am Catholic and I have been my entire life. However, I have not been to Church in many years, a large part of the reason I no longer attend is the covering up of the molestation of young boys, the most innocent of all.  Not only the priest committing these horrible crimes, but the fact that it has been alleged that those in the upper echelons of the church knew about it and may have been involved in the trying to keep it quiet.

So if people would like to view that part of the story as Catholic bashing, they can, but I don’t. 

SSTN: Do you believe that Satin, the character, is mentally disturbed, or mental ill?

Scono Sciuto:  That is something that the reader will have to determine.  I don’t want to give much away here, but remember what she went through, and all that follows is a reaction.  Is it really all that over the top?  Again, that is for the reader to decide.

SSTN:  Back to the topic of feminism.  You have eluded to that feminist have it wrong, and that in the novel you expand upon that topic.  Can you give more examples?

Scono Sciuto: As was stated in the novel, feminist have always played, and continue to play for parity.  And that goal has led to repeated setbacks.  Barbara Walters is an example, she was an anchor of the evening news, but once she got there everyone thought she won, simply by getting there, not by being better than everyone else. Therefore, another setback; then it happened again, Katie Couric earned her way into the anchor chair of the CBS evening news —- and again, everyone was simply happy because she was there, but she didn’t excel.  Yes she is financially succeeding, but she lost the opportunity to win the battle.  Thankfully, Diane Sawyer knows how to win, and she is out there doing a superb job, making feminist proud by her success.

SSTN:  Why are the women all athletic, muscular and fit?

Scono Sciuto:  Because the women in the novel are the pinnacle of not only feminism, but of femininity.  Women are always taught that  to be sexy, they should be soft and curvy.  Think of those words, they convey weakness.  The women of She Is The New Savior are strong, independent, able to take care of themselves, but never lose the essence of what makes them women. There fitness and muscularity do not take away, they enhances their femininity, by the outward appearance of strength and dominance.

SSTN:  Satin marries another woman, is the novel pro-gay marriage?

Scono Sciuto:  Satin does not require government approval to do what she desires.  Many should really take that way to heart.  Everyone is so focused on a stamp of approval from some petty bureaucrat or elected official, they miss the point that love doesn’t require legality, it only requires acknowledgement by those involved.

SSTN:  Is Scono Sciuto, your real name?

Scono Sciuto:  That’s unknown.

Discover more about 4th wave feminism, get your copy of “She Is The New Savior,” today .

 

—————————

If you are purchasing this book you must be 18 years old, however we strongly advise you to be at least 25.

Do NOT read this book if:
-you have a heart conditionShe Is The New Savior
-you suffer from anxiety
-you fear strong women
-you fear eternal damnation
-you are afraid of the truth
-you are suffering a crisis of faith

Satin: The New Savior contains:
-blatant heresy
-graphic sexuality
-gratuitous violence
-over the top blasphemy
-a skewed view of the world

You must be 18 years told to read this book, however we recommend that you are 25.

A Weekend Of Lustful Play

acjass1It is your birthday. I give you a gift, one that admittedly is more for me than you. A pair of thong underwear.

You are fifty-the orgininal wildone years old and have never worn them. You thought they would be uncomfortable.

I offer to take them back. You say no. You lift your skirt and remove your current under garment. You hold it up for a moment, allowing me to gaze the most luscious pussy I have ever seen.

You open each leg of the green apparel. You pull it up your calves, up your incredible thighs and then finally up to your waist. You pull on the cloth that is nestled within your cheeks.

It doesn’t feel that bad you tell me. You hold your skirt up and slowly turn around asking me what I think.

You are a vision. So perfect. I have waited so many years to be with you, each day I have to remind myself of how lucky I am.

gh1 - Copy1I run my hands up your legs. I caress the flesh of your upper thigh.  My hand finds the string like material. I bend you over the couch and open your cheeks. I stare at the satin fabric as it rubs against the inside of your cheeks. Your asshole is looking back at me, barely concealed. For the first time ever, I lower my head, and with the fabric still in place I tongue your hole. You react my bending further forward, inviting me to continue.

For the better part of the next hour I work my mouth around your entire backside. The perfect shape that many men, and women, have admired over the years was now mine. Mine to give attention, mine to care for, mine to worship.

embrace the wild

Your moans only stop for a moment and they are to utter but three words. “Fuck me hard.”

I slide the fabric to the side and enter you. Immediately, with all of my might, I push myself within. The wet material rubs against my cock as I penetrate you with more force and more vigor than ever had I in the past. As much as I want this to last, I am too excited, too far gone, and within mere moments my come fills you.

My fluid flows from you, and without hesitation, I resume my old positon and start licking your ass and pussy. In no time, I am ready to take you again. This time it isn’t over as quickly. My balls hit your clit with each forward thrust. You start to scream; you tell me you are coming. You command me not to stop.

As your body shutters, I fuck you through your orgasm. The shuttering of your snatch Embrace The Wild Fantasiesadds to the friction we are generating, soon, I fill you once again.

My cock slides out. So hot is the sight of my come oozing from your insides, soaking your birthday gift, that only a little of it rigidity is lost.

You turn and take me in your mouth. You lick each bit of our passion, and then you rise to your feet and passionately our mouths intertwine.

We don’t leave your house for the entire weekend. How many times we share our passion, I can’t recall, but never, will I forget being with my goddess.

Faithfully Unfaithful – a short story

 Faithfully Unfaithful Cover© 2016

by Scono Sciuto

All rights reserved.  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

Printed in the United States of America.

Contact the author: SaviorSatin@icloud.com or authorsconosciuto@gmail.com

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the author’s extremely vivid, and at time disturbing, imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons living or dead is entirely coincidental.

 

Our flirtation has been ongoing for several years. For five long years, for you, I have longed and lusted. To taste you, to join with you, to have my way with you, and for you to have your way with me — today the wait is finally over.

We have had several near meetings, but fear stopped me.

We have had several near meetings, but circumstance stopped us.

We have had several near meetings, but a lack of pledge stopped you.

 

You want love, that I can not promise, that I will not promise. You want to remain faithful to your husband, you asked me not to push, and for a time, I respected that wish. However, that I can no longer honor.

 

Your husband has not touched you in so very long. You tell me that want to be touched by a man. You weep to me that your own touch simply will no longer do. You convey to me that you want to again touch a man, that you desire to feel that which makes a man a man. You plead with me that you want to be made to feel like a woman. I assure you that is something I will endeavor to accomplish.

 

It is the appointed time. After you arrive, I drive around the secluded inn’s parking lot. I make not one pass, not two, but at least ten. I check several times. I am positive you were not followed. I am now positive neither was I.  As agreed, I wait for you to enter the room. Once again, just to be sure, I check the lot. No one has arrived since you.

Just watching you sashay from your car sets my heart racing. The rhythmic sway of your perfectly round ass immediately sends blood rushing to one part of my body. God, you are what was intended when He created woman. There is none as perfect, nor as desirable as you.

I rush from my car. I ache for you. However, once at the door, I hesitate. I am nervous, and yes a little scared. Insecurities long forgotten have risen to the surface.

What if you are not satisfied?

What if I can’t fulfil your needs?

What if I am not all that you hoped?

 

Your perfume hangs in the air. Your scent is exciting. I fumble with my key-card. One swipe, the light remains red. I turn it over and swipe it again. Green, but I wait too long. One more time, green, I turn the knob and push — the door slowly creeps open.

The door is about a quarter of the way open, but I don’t move. I don’t even peek within. For a moment, I think, what if unnoticed you have left? What if you couldn’t go through with our rendezvous?

I peek around the door, but not far enough. Finally, I build up the courage. I walk through the door.

My eyes find you. My racing heart ceases to beat. Clad in black, you are sitting in the chair.  Your right leg crossed over the left, the hem of your dress open, exposing both legs. Two symmetrically perfect calves, diamond in shape, beckoning me to come forth. I move onward, your dress clings to your body, rising to your chest, the upper portion of each breast is slightly exposed, a plunging neckline revealing a beckoning cleavage. I have seen this visage in many of your photos, put not a one does justice to what is before me. A silver necklace runs from that cleavage to your beautiful neck. The shiny metal glimmers as your chest rises and falls with each breath. My eyes move up a fraction more. Your smile is bright white. In ancient times, your beautiful face would have launched a thousand ships. So gorgeous, your jet black hair falls around your cheeks, framing that which is nothing short of pure perfection.

You must sense my hesitation. You look over your glasses — a come hither look summons me to move forward. Under your spell, I have but only one choice, and that is to obey.

I cross the floor in a few bounding steps. Before you, I drop to my knees. I bow at the feet of my goddess. You stroke my head. Then without further pause, I undo the straps and remove your sandals.

Starting at your feet, slowly I run my hands up your legs, rubbing each inch of your flesh. Soon my hands are followed by my mouth. Each toe enters and exits my mouth. There is no hurry. There is no sense of urgency. Yes, I want you more than I want air to breath or water to drink, but, I have waited for what was an eternity. I will savor each part of your body. Each bit of skin, each droplet of sweat, each crack and crevice of your body — I will demonstrate adulation for all. When I have finished your feet, I move to your ankles. I suck on the small bony protrusions as if they were the tip of your breasts. Your moans of pleasure assure me that you are pleased. After great effort in an attempt to suck non-existent milk from each malleolus, I move on.

I have worshiped your legs in each and every picture you have sent. I have fantasized many a night as to what I would do when finally, I place my hands upon them. For the better part of an hour I kiss your legs, moving up from each ankle. Each kiss is gentle, and lingers before moving on to the next spot.

My lips effortlessly slide along the slope from your ankle up your calf, and follow as your legs pinch in again at the knee. Your legs remain crossed, so my mouth stops at your knees. At the front of each I make circles, a preview of what will be to come, and from just above your kneecap, I take tiny bites, tugging gently at the skin, sucking what is held between my teeth.

After taking time to thoroughly worship at your knees, you uncross them. I am now kneeling between your slightly parted thighs. Your dress zips in the front, you move the clasp down, exposing a body I have many times imagined seeing unadorned. After due veneration, I once again return my way upward. The flesh of your thighs is cool and inviting and so tasty. Droplets of sweat are forming along your inner thighs. The salinity only adds flavor to the natural deliciousness of which I have been savoring.

I raise my head, look up and stare admirably at that bare glimmering area of heaven I only dreamed I would ever see — let alone touch, let alone taste, let alone enter.

As I continue on my ascent, goal in sight, a sweet scent of pheromone laced sensuality wafts to me. I inhale deeply. My heart is racing — I can feel each beat as it forces itself against my chest. For so long I have desired but a mere taste, and now, so close, soon, I will feast.

I pause but a mere inch from your sexual region. I want to move toward it — I want to ravish that for which I have longed. Yet, fear, anticipation, too much excitement — whatever it is, freezes me. I reach up with my hand, gently I glide the tips of my fingers along the outside. Your skin feels almost perfectly smooth. Slight moisture reflects the sunlight as Sol shines upon Eden.

 

Your body responds to my touch, your thighs part a bit more, inviting further movement. With both hands, I softly massage the mound of bare flesh on each side which guards your entrance. My hands part your naked flesh. The area is damp and a bit slick. Thankfully, slight bits of stubble assist my grip. Slowly I maneuver each side. Soon they are parted just enough so I may glimpse the supple, light colored inner fruit of which I so desperately yearn to feed.

 

By scent, by touch, by vision, I am drawn to your waiting erogenous zone. My body trembles — there is apprehension. I have imagined this moment many, many times.  I again spread back your soft and sensitive vaginal flesh. I open just a bit more, exposing that for which I so frantically hunger.

 

I extend my tongue, and with only the tip, I sense your succulent flavor. The taste tingles upon my tongue — not the finest wine, nor the sweetest chocolate, could ever illicit such absolute bliss.

 

I extended my tongue as far as I can, placing your female erectile tissue as far to the back as possible. I hold downward pressure. Then slowly — very slowly, I retract. Your wetness coats every inch of its surface, the juice of your fruit fills each waiting and wanting taste bud — the essence is like nothing I have ever before sampled.

 

Once at the tip of my tongue, I enclose your nerve-ending filled protrusion with my lips, gently sucking, even slightly pulling and playfully tugging — all the while keeping the tip of my tongue in contact with the tip of your clit.

 

I lick with ever increasing energy and speed. As your body starts to quiver, I place my index finger deep within. I curl it so that, through your flesh, it makes contact with my tongue. Your body responds with ever increasing violent spasms. From you lips, sighs become moans, moans become grunts, and grunts become screams. You grind your lower body into my face. Your force is so strong, that in a desperate attempt to not lose contact, against the chair with my free hand, I must brace myself. As your orgasm comes to an end, I slow my pace, yet keep applying even more pressure, coaxing you to a quick succession of orgasms the likes of which I hope you have never before experienced.

 

The quaking of your body subsides and then finally ceases. Coos replace the screams and shouts. I kiss you there. You are very sensitive. You pull my head away. You beg for a lull.

 

Grudgingly, I move on. I give one last look and I smile. For even without any contact, your vagina remains trembling.

 

Your stomach is my next stop. I suck your belly button with so much power, it is as if my goal is to turn your innie into an outie. I give as much attention here as I have to any other part of your body so far. You are such a sexual creature that soon, sighs are again turning to moans. I look down and that perfect spot is again doing a dance.

 

Without removing my mouth from your navel, I move my hand and quickly vibrate it directly on your sensitive spot. As you experience another orgasm, the quaking in your torso throws my head from your stomach and it lands nestled between your breasts.

 

I lift my head and get my bearings. I admire your bosom. The pictures you have sent had always prominently exhibited them, however, with just enough covered to push my mind to create unending fantasies. I kiss the skin in between. My mouth and tongue move from breast to breast, sucking at the tip of each nipple, as I gently hold each respective one between my teeth. I can not get enough. Each one requires two hands to hold. They are perfect in shape and texture. The skin here is as sensitive as the skin anywhere else on your body. Although large, I stretch my jaws and I accommodate an entire globe in my mouth. Sucking with all my might to hold it within.

As with your belly button, the response is a dance from below your waist. This time I insert two fingers within. Your pursed lips begging for even deeper entry. I brace the palm of my hand against your pubic bone, and with long, quick motions I push my fingers in and out.  My efforts do not produce another orgasm, but none the less, you seem satisfied.

 

I continue my assent. Each bit of your skin receives a small nibble as I climb your body. Finally, my mouth meets yours. You taste you upon me, the mix of your saliva and vaginal secretion is the sweetest sin.

 

Our sexual areas are now aligned. I feel your moisture as the hardest erection I have ever possessed makes contact. With no guide from our hands, I find my way in. Slowly, gently and so very easily, finally, after all of these years, I penetrate you.

 

The head of my sexuality slips past your entrance. As I enter your body, there is a slight sense of resistance. As I overcome that small hump, I nearly climax. Once a bit of me is in, you pull me in the rest of the way. The warmth emanating from within cradles me. The feeling as my body becomes part of yours is so emotional that a tear touches my eye.

 

I hold myself fully inside of you. Patience was rewarded. I am just where I belong. My passion intensifies. Many nights I have brought myself to ejaculation imaging this very moment. Now it is here, and I want it to last as long as possible. I am reluctant to move. I don’t ever want to leave.

 

Your body tells me it is ready for more. Your hips thrust up as your legs cross around my back. I begin to move with long, even paced, steady strokes. Your legs pull me in as far as possible, and they prevent me from completely withdrawing.

 

I am not sure how long we are making love, but I start to feel you tremble and, in me, I feel that familiar sensation that there will be no longer any holding back. My pace remains the same, but the force of each movement forward increases. I try to keep myself from coming, I want to, but at the same time, I don’t — it is difficult. This act with you is more intense, more exciting, and more stimulating than any I have experienced.

 

I push harder.

I push deeper.

I push with as much power as I can muster.

 

As the power of each thrust causes your body to sway beneath mine, your legs which were holding me inside, are now fighting to hold you in place beneath my body. The time has arrived. As hard as I clench each muscle of my lower body, there is nothing that will stop me now. I know I can no longer prevent coming. With all the power I can muster, forcefully I thrust myself in as far as I can. Once there, I hold myself steady. My pubic bone applies pressure to your clit. We grind into one another. I bear down even harder. I want us to come together. I feel the fluid begin to ooze forth. I try to stop moving, but that your hips won’t allow. I am done. From deep inside I unleash an ejaculation with such force that it almost forces me from you. Your tightly crossed legs are all that keep me inside. I am disappointed you haven’t come, but that disillusionment soon abates as in quick succession, you achieve several orgasms.

 

I fall forward.

Still erect, I remain within.

Your arms and legs embrace my body, drawing me in even further.

 

Even though we stopped coming minutes before, our bodies continue to shutter. Never has so much come from me. Your body can only hold so much and much spills forth, seeping out, leaving evidence upon the chair’s cushion.

 

As we hold one another, my erection remains unchanged. I have never experienced another such as you. I shift ever so slightly. That action causes me to leave your body. As I drag myself along the slight stubble that dots your opening, unbelievably, I come yet again.

 

I take you in my arms.

I lift you from the chair.

I hold you tight.

 

Our bodies are now completely covered in sweat, not a spot of our skin remains dry. I reach my hand down and I rub my seed from your legs. You grab my wrist and bring it to your mouth. You lick from my hand and then grab my head and kiss me. I have never done this before. It is intoxicating. I throw you onto the bed and begin to once again go down on you. Our combined fluids ooze from your body as you become wetter and wetter. I suck with all my remaining effort. I enter you with two fingers, but there is so much sliding that no friction is possible. I add a third and twist my hand in semicircles. I find the perfect combination and once again your body shakes.

 

You are completely spent, as am I.

I worship you, it is my duty to now care for you.

I lift you from the bed, into the bath I carry you.

Inside the tub I place you.

 

I fill it with warm water, I set the jets to on and I massage your front as the spa does the same to your back. Soapy water allows my hands to slide across your body unimpeded. I rub and knead every square inch of your form.

 

When done, I help you from the tub. Our bodies begin to mirror one another. A slow, seductive, tantric tango ensues. For two plus hours, our bodies slightly glide against one another. Our senses are heightened, both of our sexual organs calling to one another, wanting to again be joined.

 

I take you back onto the bed. I kiss you deeply, passionately, my mouth inhales yours. The early actions repeat themselves, except this time our positions switch many times. Without being aware by either of us, minutes become hours. As orgasms take us both, many times, our physical actions soon cease, yet our souls continue bonding well into the next day.

 

We stir from our slumber.

You tell me you love me.

I smile.

 

I ask you how many men you have cheated with on your husband. You do not answer. I tell you it is at least as many with whom I have broken my previous vows.

 

You tell me this is different.

You tell me again, that you love me.

You ask me if I feel the same.

 

I tell you we are not in love, that for us, we are beyond love. Love is what we have for others. I tell you love is what you had for your husband. It is that obligation from a long gone emotion, it is that reason you will go from our bed to his.

 

You look down at the floor. I reassure you that there is nothing wrong, that together we are different. For us, we can’t be bound by an earthly definition. We are outside that type of love. Foolhardy fidelity and faithfulness are chains of bondage. It is that which confines us to relationships that years ago should have ended. It is not bad, it is an obligation we respect, at times fulfilling, more times though, suffocating. So we are driven to explore. We are driven to find more than that to which we are shackled.

 

We remain, yet we do not live within the confines of an outdated commitment. We exist to freely express and experience. I tell you I expect no exclusivity from you, and give no word of promise in return. How could we ask for something of which we so willingly are not beholden to. Either current or previous, neither of us has kept that promise, do we really expect that if made to one another, this time it is an oath we will keep.

 

We are faithful to our unfaithfulness. Therefore, instead of the restrictions of man-made marriage, we exist in a plane of our own making. We were together before, we are together now, and no matter what happens or who we go home to, our souls will be together tomorrow.

 

I kiss you deeply.

I make love to you once again.

We are forever, faithfully unfaithful.

 

 

S.S. 8/7/16

Other books by Scono Sciuto:

She Is The New Savior

Embrace The Wild

Angelic Adultery

For God

Submissive Is Dominance

Also, keep an eye on the Amazon Author Page for new releases.