Memories & Kisses
by Muffy Wilson
(@SexyMuffyWilson)
Thank you so much for coming to my release.
I think I have fallen in love with the girl on the cover of my latest book,
Memories & Kisses. She is beautiful, of course, but what really attracts me
is her mystery. I’m sure it is no accident that she uses bright red lipstick.
Take a casual glance at her picture, and you are caught by that luscious,
loveable mouth. Who does she kiss? Just one lover? Or several? Does she kiss
men or perhaps women? Would she kiss me on the right evening?
What do you think? Is she thinking about
memories of love lost? Perhaps the memories made trying to forget a lost love?
Even old memories revisited by old friends, united in a kiss that rekindles
flames, passions and desire, too. Old memories are like old red wine - all the
richer for time passed. And the kisses taste sweeter too. Three romantic and
very sexy stories take us back to things as they once were, and forward to the
wonderful times to come.
Memories & Kisses has three stories of
old loves remembered; a grieving woman rescued from the sea, two childhood
friends growing old friendship into passionate loving, and two long separated
teenagers finding that time has mellowed them both and maturity has brought a
passionate intensity they had never imagined. All three stories are of
rekindled love that survived decades of longing and is now ready to burst into
flame.
Blurb:
The Storm ~ a newly widowed woman unable to
face the world alone and lonely, buries her husband. Overcome by grief, she
walks into the rough, grinding pitiless surf in an effort to blend the gray in
her heart with the gray on the horizon. She is saved from the crashing waves by
a man, a bearded white haired man who brings her back to life and gives her a
reason to live again.
The Park ~ two childhood friends, now
adults, reunite on the eve of the dedication of their once favorite playground
now slated to become a high-tech water park. The destruction of their favorite
playground makes them melancholy; reliving their dreams as children in this
park inspires them to greater, more passionate long buried desires they never
responded to as teens, but knew existed but in their memories.
The Story of Us ~ high school friends, once
nearly sweethearts, reconnect in their sixties. The Internet removes the veil
of uncomfortable shyness. They are open and revealing in emails about their
youthful teenaged desires for one another. They discover what we all hope is
true: that love is eternal. Surviving decades, not only in the shadowed
recesses of our memories, but in a kiss, a touch, a magnetic embrace love
thrives.
Do you have memories of a love that once
was?...of a love that was lost?...of, perhaps, a rekindled love that survived
decades of longing?
Buy Links:
Amazon: https://www.amazon.com
Ganxy: https://ganxy.com
XinXii: http://www.xinxii.com
iTunes: https://itunes.apple.com
Excerpt from The Storm:
I walk to the surf, heaving for breath,
weak from running against the rain, fighting the storm, the sadness, my loss -
your death. I walk into the surf and keep walking. It is surprisingly warm and
enveloping. I suddenly feel comforted, my heartbreak no longer a penetrating
pain. I know you are with me and I seek out your embrace. I cry again, scream
at the thunderous surf, and then I am gone. I can’t breathe and I am falling,
rolling, tumbling in a hazy grey darkness that is wet, ferocious, demanding.
Suddenly my dizzy comfort turns to fear and I struggle against the pounding,
relentless waves. What have I done? I am a good swimmer and an athlete, but can
I beat this? Instinct overcomes me. My heart pounds. I start to kick wildly.
Moving my arms toward the surface, the current catches me again, tumbling me
over and over. My lungs burn. I lose my bearing—which way is up, down? I start
to get a sickening feeling of death, my own impending death, and, just as I
start to give in, I feel the hand of God grab my hair and hood in a fierce grip
and yank me to the surface. I feel the sky darken and the surf diminish.
Everything tastes salty, gritty, and then my body heaves, relaxed, and my world
goes black.
I awake to pounding on my chest; I am being
rattled and something is covering my mouth and nose. I cough, retch, and then
vomit the last vestiges of the ocean from my body. My mouth is filled with grit,
sand, and the salty taste of taffy. I open my eyes and see God reaching down
toward me. He leans over me and the salty ocean water drips from his face to
mine. He is big, strong, and gasping; he is surrounded in a glowing aura which
intensifies his white hair and white beard. I am frightened. I must be dead.
But that cannot be! How foolish I am. He sits me up, tenderly and gently helps
me to my feet, all the while holding me securely with large strong hands and
then he speaks to me.
“Are you alright, miss? You scared me near
to death when I saw you walk into the surf. Why in the world….Where do you
live?”
I am alive to my senses.
“Wha. . . ?” My knees weaken and I fall further into his
arms. Quickly, he catches my descent and carries me to a bench where he sits me
down, moving the errant curls of hair from my cheeks, and speaks to me again.
“Where are you staying? Shall I call the
police?”
I can feel my heart pounding against his
chest.
“No, please, I’m . . . I’ll be fine. My key,
my pocket; it’s in my pocket. Please…”
I can’t remember my hotel or where I am or
why. As he unzips my pocket and removes my hotel key, he pulls my hood up over
my head to shelter my face from the pelting rain. Collecting me under his arm,
my body firmly in his grip, we walk slowly back to the hotel. The traffic is
still sparse, no taxis to be seen. It seems to take forever. The storm is so
much worse, the surf so high, sucking the wind into the watery folds as it
retreats to the ocean. At once, I am so scared that I begin to tremble and yet,
I feel protected.
As we walk into the hotel lobby, the bell
captain approaches us and asks if I need the hotel doctor, whereupon my
guardian says, “No, that won’t be necessary, thank you.” We take the elevator
to my floor and I am finally in the sanctity of my room, as lonely as it is. My
savior, my hero sits me in the desk chair while he goes to the bathroom and
starts the shower. He returns. He is saying something to me that I can’t
understand, but he starts to take my shoes off. Then he leans me forward,
removes my windbreaker and sports bra, and helps me stand while he pulls
relentlessly at my wet spandex knee-highs. He kicks off his own running shoes
and removes his blazer. He carries me to the shower but I feel as if I’m
watching the scene unfold from outside my own body. I am unafraid of this
stranger.
The water is hot and piercing, but he is
gentle, loving, and tender. He bathes me and washes my hair, lifting the
removable nozzle to rinse the sand, grit, and seaweed from my hair and lithe
body. My skin is a deep pink from the intense extreme of the cold grasp of the
ocean and the heated comfort of the hot shower. His hands are everywhere, on
every curve, gently caressing my skin with his soapy fingertips. He deftly,
tenderly, washes my breasts, my taunt stomach and pussy. He controls himself,
but I can’t let him stop. I look up at him, and notice he is watching himself
bathe me. He seems to caress my buttocks as he cleans the sand from between my
rounded cheeks. Unembarrassed, he rinses my body thoroughly, running his
fingers though my shoulder-length brown hair. I feel safe, warmed, yet
surprisingly aroused, weakened by my ordeal.
For the first time, it seems, he looks down
at me. He takes me in as I look up at him, transfixed by his control. I am
naked in my sorrow and my pain; he, fully clothed except for his windbreaker
and shoes, smiles, touching my heart. I did not notice his erection in the
shower, he is a complete gentleman. My breasts, the curve of my belly to my
thigh, my face against his chest glisten in the shower, as I trust him to help
me.
Memories & Kisses- read more...
Muffy, author of erotic, romantic stories
about love, sex, hope and passion, was born in San Antonio, Texas, to
traditional parents. With two older brothers, she was the youngest, the family
"princess," indulged and pampered. She adored her older brothers,
following them everywhere and was surrounded by love, stimulation, and pets.
Her father was a career Colonel and pilot in the U.S. Air Force which required
the family to travel extensively. The family lived in most points between
Alaska and France. Muffy spent her formative years in Europe and came of age in
France.
Returning from France with her family,
Muffy finished high school in Northern California and attended the University
of California, Davis, and majored in Business Management. Muffy entered the
work force, independent with a fierce work ethic, and retired at 39 from IBM as
a Mid-West Regional Director in the Real Estate and Construction Division. She
and her husband moved to a small Island in northern Wisconsin where they owned
a historic tavern, restaurant and resort business which they since have sold.
They now live a charmed life by the water in SW Florida. Muffy pretends to be a
serious real estate business person but, in real life, indulges her private
interest in writing sexy short stories and sensual literotica ~ Live, Laugh,
Love with Passion.
Yellow Silk Dreams
I have to be interested in books like this. Hey. I'm a professional and my job involves reading and editing sexy books (it's tough, but some-one has to do it). Easy to get jaded but, once in a while, a book comes along that stands out of the crowd. This is one of them and definitely worth spending some time with.
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