Sunday Funnies; Volume 150.

A Real Man




He grasped me firmly, but gently, just above my elbow and guided me into a room, his room. Then he quietly shut the door and we were alone.

He approached me soundlessly, from behind, and spoke in a low, reassuring voice, close to my ear.

"Just relax. . . "

Without warning, he reached down and I felt his strong, calloused hands start at my ankles, gently probing and moving upward along my calves, slowly, but steadily.

My breath caught in my throat.

I knew I should be afraid, but somehow I didn't care. His touch was so experienced, so sure.

When his hands moved up onto my thighs, I gave a slight shudder, and I partly closed my eyes.

My pulse was pounding. I felt his knowing fingers caress my abdomen, my ribcage.

And then, as he cupped my firm, full, breasts in his hands, I inhaled sharply.

Probing, searching, knowing what he wanted, he brought his hands to my
shoulders, slid them down my tingling spine and into my panties.

Although I knew nothing about this man, I felt oddly trusting and expectant.

This is a real man, I thought. A man used to taking charge. A man not used to taking "no" for an answer.

A man who would tell me what he wanted. A man who would look into my soul and say . . . . .

"Okay, ma'am," said a voice. "All done."

My eyes snapped open and he was standing in front of me, smiling, holding out my purse. "You can board your flight now."