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Heart Matters on Valentine's Day 4

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WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. DELETE NOW IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT

THEMES.

Steve led me through a garage that foreshadowed the splendor of the

home we were about to enter. This was a four-car garage, a rarity in

San Francisco. We entered the middle of the main living space

through a beautiful lacquered wooden staircase. The richness of the

surroundings was only hinted at by the staircase. We entered a grand

hallway where one room flowed into the next--a formal sitting room, a

music room with a grand piano, a formal dining room. All throughout

were fine furnishings, original artwork, beautifully painted crown

moldings and fabulous window treatments. Then Steve led me to the

kitchen. The high ceilings and open space made me feel like I was

touring a model home. Steve explained that there were 4 bedrooms and

2.5 baths. Then he led me upstairs to his private den. We entered a

room that was a rich milk chocolate color with gray crown moldings

and a bronze chandelier. The room was decorated in a Safari theme,

with leather-upholstered easy chairs and a chaise lounge in animal

print.

The bay windows had seats with pillows and cushions. One wall was a

library of book shelves and on the other end of the room was a red

marble fire place. Needless to say, I took in all the beauty with

delight. This is somewhat of an exaggeration, but I felt like

Bennet of Jane Austen's " Pride and Prejudice " when she

enters Mr. Darcy's estate and beholds the opulence therein.

Steve took me in his arms as we stood face to face. He looked me in

the eye as he began to unbutton my shirt. He admired my tattoos and,

as promised, licked and kissed them gently. Being undressed by

someone with, in my view, such a perfect body could have been

terribly uncomfortable, but Steve's tender, seductive manner put me

at ease. We discussed my scars, and he gently ran his fingers along

their outline, each time raising his gaze to meet mine and smile.

The unspoken communion was broken by his words, " You know, we all

have our scars " while pointing to the three scars on his chin. " A

bar fight? " I asked. " No, I fell down while skating when I was a

kid, " was his chuckling reply.

He stood above me completely naked in all his bodily perfection—a

sight I'd only experienced in art books, museums and movies—a beauty

I never thought I'd see in the flesh. And it was there for me to

touch, to hold and enjoy. He said to me as he took my hand, " I love

your smile, " while running his fingers through my hair with his other

hand.

" I thought we were supposed to end up at my place, " I said.

" Well, this way we don't waste the time in travel. I couldn't wait

until we got to your place. "

Then I started laugh quietly to myself. He asked why to which I

answered, " Your kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment. " He face

turned serious, and he said, " I don't care about those things. I

want you to know that. " " The truth is, " I told him, " I am so lucky

to live here in San Francisco. I love my apartment. It truly is a

blessing. " And I really do feel that way. The richness of Steve's

house, while beautiful to behold, isn't what I'm interested in. If

he's a wonderful man and a potential Mr. Right, those trappings are

icing on the cake. If he turns out to be Mr. Not-So-Right, those

things wouldn't make up for a lack of connection.

To be continued...

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WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. DELETE NOW IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT

THEMES.

Steve led me through a garage that foreshadowed the splendor of the

home we were about to enter. This was a four-car garage, a rarity in

San Francisco. We entered the middle of the main living space

through a beautiful lacquered wooden staircase. The richness of the

surroundings was only hinted at by the staircase. We entered a grand

hallway where one room flowed into the next--a formal sitting room, a

music room with a grand piano, a formal dining room. All throughout

were fine furnishings, original artwork, beautifully painted crown

moldings and fabulous window treatments. Then Steve led me to the

kitchen. The high ceilings and open space made me feel like I was

touring a model home. Steve explained that there were 4 bedrooms and

2.5 baths. Then he led me upstairs to his private den. We entered a

room that was a rich milk chocolate color with gray crown moldings

and a bronze chandelier. The room was decorated in a Safari theme,

with leather-upholstered easy chairs and a chaise lounge in animal

print.

The bay windows had seats with pillows and cushions. One wall was a

library of book shelves and on the other end of the room was a red

marble fire place. Needless to say, I took in all the beauty with

delight. This is somewhat of an exaggeration, but I felt like

Bennet of Jane Austen's " Pride and Prejudice " when she

enters Mr. Darcy's estate and beholds the opulence therein.

Steve took me in his arms as we stood face to face. He looked me in

the eye as he began to unbutton my shirt. He admired my tattoos and,

as promised, licked and kissed them gently. Being undressed by

someone with, in my view, such a perfect body could have been

terribly uncomfortable, but Steve's tender, seductive manner put me

at ease. We discussed my scars, and he gently ran his fingers along

their outline, each time raising his gaze to meet mine and smile.

The unspoken communion was broken by his words, " You know, we all

have our scars " while pointing to the three scars on his chin. " A

bar fight? " I asked. " No, I fell down while skating when I was a

kid, " was his chuckling reply.

He stood above me completely naked in all his bodily perfection—a

sight I'd only experienced in art books, museums and movies—a beauty

I never thought I'd see in the flesh. And it was there for me to

touch, to hold and enjoy. He said to me as he took my hand, " I love

your smile, " while running his fingers through my hair with his other

hand.

" I thought we were supposed to end up at my place, " I said.

" Well, this way we don't waste the time in travel. I couldn't wait

until we got to your place. "

Then I started laugh quietly to myself. He asked why to which I

answered, " Your kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment. " He face

turned serious, and he said, " I don't care about those things. I

want you to know that. " " The truth is, " I told him, " I am so lucky

to live here in San Francisco. I love my apartment. It truly is a

blessing. " And I really do feel that way. The richness of Steve's

house, while beautiful to behold, isn't what I'm interested in. If

he's a wonderful man and a potential Mr. Right, those trappings are

icing on the cake. If he turns out to be Mr. Not-So-Right, those

things wouldn't make up for a lack of connection.

To be continued...

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Crossing my fingers and saying a prayer for you my dear friend. You

certainly have your heart in this one. Protect it!!

Huggles

>

> WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. DELETE NOW IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT

> THEMES.

>

> Steve led me through a garage that foreshadowed the splendor of

the

> home we were about to enter. This was a four-car garage, a rarity

in

> San Francisco. We entered the middle of the main living space

> through a beautiful lacquered wooden staircase. The richness of

the

> surroundings was only hinted at by the staircase. We entered a

grand

> hallway where one room flowed into the next--a formal sitting

room, a

> music room with a grand piano, a formal dining room. All

throughout

> were fine furnishings, original artwork, beautifully painted crown

> moldings and fabulous window treatments. Then Steve led me to the

> kitchen. The high ceilings and open space made me feel like I was

> touring a model home. Steve explained that there were 4 bedrooms

and

> 2.5 baths. Then he led me upstairs to his private den. We

entered a

> room that was a rich milk chocolate color with gray crown moldings

> and a bronze chandelier. The room was decorated in a Safari

theme,

> with leather-upholstered easy chairs and a chaise lounge in animal

> print.

>

> The bay windows had seats with pillows and cushions. One wall was

a

> library of book shelves and on the other end of the room was a red

> marble fire place. Needless to say, I took in all the beauty with

> delight. This is somewhat of an exaggeration, but I felt like

> Bennet of Jane Austen's " Pride and Prejudice " when she

> enters Mr. Darcy's estate and beholds the opulence therein.

>

> Steve took me in his arms as we stood face to face. He looked me

in

> the eye as he began to unbutton my shirt. He admired my tattoos

and,

> as promised, licked and kissed them gently. Being undressed by

> someone with, in my view, such a perfect body could have been

> terribly uncomfortable, but Steve's tender, seductive manner put

me

> at ease. We discussed my scars, and he gently ran his fingers

along

> their outline, each time raising his gaze to meet mine and smile.

> The unspoken communion was broken by his words, " You know, we all

> have our scars " while pointing to the three scars on his chin. " A

> bar fight? " I asked. " No, I fell down while skating when I was a

> kid, " was his chuckling reply.

>

> He stood above me completely naked in all his bodily perfection—a

> sight I'd only experienced in art books, museums and movies—a

beauty

> I never thought I'd see in the flesh. And it was there for me to

> touch, to hold and enjoy. He said to me as he took my hand, " I

love

> your smile, " while running his fingers through my hair with his

other

> hand.

>

> " I thought we were supposed to end up at my place, " I said.

>

> " Well, this way we don't waste the time in travel. I couldn't

wait

> until we got to your place. "

>

> Then I started laugh quietly to myself. He asked why to which I

> answered, " Your kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment. " He

face

> turned serious, and he said, " I don't care about those things. I

> want you to know that. " " The truth is, " I told him, " I am so

lucky

> to live here in San Francisco. I love my apartment. It truly is

a

> blessing. " And I really do feel that way. The richness of

Steve's

> house, while beautiful to behold, isn't what I'm interested in.

If

> he's a wonderful man and a potential Mr. Right, those trappings

are

> icing on the cake. If he turns out to be Mr. Not-So-Right, those

> things wouldn't make up for a lack of connection.

>

> To be continued...

>

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Share on other sites

Crossing my fingers and saying a prayer for you my dear friend. You

certainly have your heart in this one. Protect it!!

Huggles

>

> WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT. DELETE NOW IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY ADULT

> THEMES.

>

> Steve led me through a garage that foreshadowed the splendor of

the

> home we were about to enter. This was a four-car garage, a rarity

in

> San Francisco. We entered the middle of the main living space

> through a beautiful lacquered wooden staircase. The richness of

the

> surroundings was only hinted at by the staircase. We entered a

grand

> hallway where one room flowed into the next--a formal sitting

room, a

> music room with a grand piano, a formal dining room. All

throughout

> were fine furnishings, original artwork, beautifully painted crown

> moldings and fabulous window treatments. Then Steve led me to the

> kitchen. The high ceilings and open space made me feel like I was

> touring a model home. Steve explained that there were 4 bedrooms

and

> 2.5 baths. Then he led me upstairs to his private den. We

entered a

> room that was a rich milk chocolate color with gray crown moldings

> and a bronze chandelier. The room was decorated in a Safari

theme,

> with leather-upholstered easy chairs and a chaise lounge in animal

> print.

>

> The bay windows had seats with pillows and cushions. One wall was

a

> library of book shelves and on the other end of the room was a red

> marble fire place. Needless to say, I took in all the beauty with

> delight. This is somewhat of an exaggeration, but I felt like

> Bennet of Jane Austen's " Pride and Prejudice " when she

> enters Mr. Darcy's estate and beholds the opulence therein.

>

> Steve took me in his arms as we stood face to face. He looked me

in

> the eye as he began to unbutton my shirt. He admired my tattoos

and,

> as promised, licked and kissed them gently. Being undressed by

> someone with, in my view, such a perfect body could have been

> terribly uncomfortable, but Steve's tender, seductive manner put

me

> at ease. We discussed my scars, and he gently ran his fingers

along

> their outline, each time raising his gaze to meet mine and smile.

> The unspoken communion was broken by his words, " You know, we all

> have our scars " while pointing to the three scars on his chin. " A

> bar fight? " I asked. " No, I fell down while skating when I was a

> kid, " was his chuckling reply.

>

> He stood above me completely naked in all his bodily perfection—a

> sight I'd only experienced in art books, museums and movies—a

beauty

> I never thought I'd see in the flesh. And it was there for me to

> touch, to hold and enjoy. He said to me as he took my hand, " I

love

> your smile, " while running his fingers through my hair with his

other

> hand.

>

> " I thought we were supposed to end up at my place, " I said.

>

> " Well, this way we don't waste the time in travel. I couldn't

wait

> until we got to your place. "

>

> Then I started laugh quietly to myself. He asked why to which I

> answered, " Your kitchen is bigger than my whole apartment. " He

face

> turned serious, and he said, " I don't care about those things. I

> want you to know that. " " The truth is, " I told him, " I am so

lucky

> to live here in San Francisco. I love my apartment. It truly is

a

> blessing. " And I really do feel that way. The richness of

Steve's

> house, while beautiful to behold, isn't what I'm interested in.

If

> he's a wonderful man and a potential Mr. Right, those trappings

are

> icing on the cake. If he turns out to be Mr. Not-So-Right, those

> things wouldn't make up for a lack of connection.

>

> To be continued...

>

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