Ryan and Eva will one day pay a price for their precipitously sexual relationship. I would have told them to take things more slowly.
-
Welcome to Religious Forums, a friendly forum to discuss all religions in a friendly surrounding.
Your voice is missing! You will need to register to get access to the following site features:- Reply to discussions and create your own threads.
- Our modern chat room. No add-ons or extensions required, just login and start chatting!
- Access to private conversations with other members.
We hope to see you as a part of our community soon!
Serve It Up Hot and Steamy!
- Thread starter Sunstone
- Start date
Ryan and Eva will one day pay a price for their precipitously sexual relationship. I would have told them to take things more slowly.
Amy was out walking in the light breezes of an early Saturday morning. Now and then, she briefly thought about choosing a destination, but so far, she was too curious to stop exploring for that. Even her town's ubiquitous squirrels interested her this morning.
Amy was something of an oddball. For one thing, not many women in their early thirties as physically attractive as Amy were still as single as her. And, Amy was purposely single. But what made her a little more of an oddball was that she so seldom felt lonely.
Her career as the Director of Communications for a small non-profit was involving enough to dispel some of the loneliness she might otherwise have felt. But mostly, it was the three other things in her life: Her painting -- for Amy was a devoted, but non-professional, artist. Her few friends -- few in number, but very good, and very decent friends. And most of all, her niece, Tiffany. Amy shared almost as equals with her sister in raising Tiffany, who was now eleven.
Amy was bright, but she was dispassionate enough about herself to recognize she wasn't as bright as people sometimes gave her credit for being. She tended to think deeply about things. And people sometimes confuse deep thinking for genuinely high intelligence, Amy had once concluded.
Around mid-morning, Amy felt a momentary awareness of something that had been troubling her for awhile now. It was enough of an awareness that she decided to set course for her favorite coffee shop, for she was a long-time regular of the shop, and she could reasonably expect to meet a casual acquaintance or two -- people who might distract her from her thoughts.
Amy didn't precisely hope to meet Karl at the shop. She merely acknowledged she would be likely to find him there, for, within just the past two or three months, Karl had gone from his first visit, to becoming an almost daily customer. She wouldn't mind seeing his grin today; but, all the same, Amy did not actually hope to see Karl.
Amy harbored surprisingly few hopes about anything -- great or small. She wasn't often depressed, but she had grown up in poverty, and had early on developed a habit of not hoping for much.
Amy had slowly come to recognize that her habit of quickly dismissing the hopes that naturally arose in her had opened the door to her increasingly troubled awareness of life's inanity. "Inanity" was her word for it. She meant by that the too often predictable, essentially senseless way things tended to play out.
The other day at work, for instance, Stan had opposed Suzanne's project for no apparent reason beyond that he simply didn't get along with her. When most of the rest of the staff had pointed out how sensible Suzanne's project really was, Stan had further entrenched his opposition.
If Amy had hoped that Stan would change -- either change his opinion of Suzanne's project, or change his habit of opposing things for personal reasons -- or, if she had hoped that she herself or someone else could change him -- her hope would have most likely hidden from her the full impact of Stan's inanity.
There was a great deal more to it than Stan, though. Everything from the world's endless wars to her brother-in-law's unnecessarily harsh, and entirely unchangeable, self-criticism was contributing to her feelings that life was essentially inane.
"Maybe most of us get by because of our hopes", she thought as she approached the coffee shop's door, "Our largely, back of the mind hopes that life will get better, that things will improve, that there will be a real difference between today and tomorrow." When she entered the shop and almost at once saw Karl, she felt relief.
_________________________________
Unknown to Amy, Karl was accustomed to bright women, even to bright, very physically attractive women, and, while he didn't fail to appreciate those things about her, he was more deeply drawn to the way she talked about herself.
Or more precisely, the way she did not talk about herself. Karl had noticed it the first time the two had sat down together. But since it was such a subtle thing, he hadn't reached a conclusion about it until he'd talked with her several times. Amy didn't spin herself.
"Odd for a Director of Communications", Karl had thought, and, since he enjoyed discovering oddball things about people, Amy's behavior had more than a little intrigued him. He'd learned she was willing to tell stories about herself, and even to talk about her feelings. But she was apparently very reluctant to spin herself.
Amy had almost never said a word to him about how she thought of herself, beyond making several clearly humorous remarks. But she had not tried to tell Karl what he should believe about her. She hadn't said anything like, "I'm a straightforward person who hates hypocrisy." Or, "I'm the sort who will not tolerate people being cruel to each other." Even most of the times she'd casually said she liked or disliked something, he'd had to ask for her opinion.
Karl had noticed that much about Amy, and along with her beauty and brains, it had perked up his interest in her. The question he really wanted an answer to, however, was just how kind she was. Karl had once been foolishly attracted to brains and beauty alone. Consequently, he had experienced his share of bright, beautiful, but unkind women. A few days before, he had decided he would try to get to know her better.
When Karl asked Amy to supper, she was not surprised. Men were always -- well, not always, but often enough -- asking her out. She was always declining, however, unless she received very clear signals they were taking a mere friendly interest in her. Ultimately, the problem was that Amy deeply and thoroughly distrusted her taste in men. At least, her romantic tastes. She was reasonably confident of her taste in friends.
She had made the decision about five or six years ago, in her late twenties. She'd been through one fumbling relationship after another since she was fourteen, and precociously developed. Two or three of the men had been abusive to varying degrees, but most of the men had merely been convenient. Convenient, and usually somewhat selfish in bed. At any rate, Amy had decided to take a break after her last lover, Jason, had cheated on her.
Originally, she hadn't intended the break to last longer than a year or two, but she'd soon enough discovered how much she liked being her own woman, and how little she cared to be answerable to people. Still, Amy sometimes thought that if the right man came along, she'd fall into his arms. But then she would remind herself of how poor her taste in men had been. She had a humorous picture of herself falling into the arms of a polygamist with two child brides.
Amy was about to give Karl her standard line, "We should do that sometime, but I'm really busy these next few weeks", when she felt a sudden need to trust Karl with the truth. At least, part of it. "I would take you up on that, Karl; I would, but I don't date. Anyone. I've had bad luck with that." Almost as soon as she said it, she regretted saying it. True or not, it was just the thing some man might seize on to tediously try and change her mind.
Karl responded by saying he would respect her decision, and wouldn't try to change it, but he was curious to know more about why she didn't date. Amy thought of excusing herself, thought of telling Karl she needed to go home, but then she felt a sudden and improbable desire to see if he really meant what he just said. So, she tried to explain as briefly as possible why she didn't go out with men.
Karl had kept his word. He hadn't tried to change her mind. But he had asked a lot of questions. A lot of questions. She'd found herself talking much longer than she had anticipated.
Most importantly, as she listened to herself, she'd begun to see her decision not to go to supper with Karl as quite possibly inane. Quite possibly? It was inane! It wasn't like he was asking her to make a commitment to him. And she already knew she enjoyed his company. Where was the harm?
But all of her relationships had started in much the same way, and she was fully aware of how easily she had slid into everyone of them. One small thing would lead to another, until.... "Oh, hell", she thought, "Give him a chance!"
It wasn't hope speaking to her, convincing her finally to give him a chance. And it wasn't entirely her desire to reject her own inanity, for the thought had crossed her mind that by indulging herself in her own inanity, she was being unfair, or unkind, to Karl. She didn't feel she actually owed him any exceptional kindness, but she just felt she wanted to be kind to him. And that, at last, had decided her.
The two settled, of course, on going Dutch.
Amy was something of an oddball. For one thing, not many women in their early thirties as physically attractive as Amy were still as single as her. And, Amy was purposely single. But what made her a little more of an oddball was that she so seldom felt lonely.
Her career as the Director of Communications for a small non-profit was involving enough to dispel some of the loneliness she might otherwise have felt. But mostly, it was the three other things in her life: Her painting -- for Amy was a devoted, but non-professional, artist. Her few friends -- few in number, but very good, and very decent friends. And most of all, her niece, Tiffany. Amy shared almost as equals with her sister in raising Tiffany, who was now eleven.
Amy was bright, but she was dispassionate enough about herself to recognize she wasn't as bright as people sometimes gave her credit for being. She tended to think deeply about things. And people sometimes confuse deep thinking for genuinely high intelligence, Amy had once concluded.
Around mid-morning, Amy felt a momentary awareness of something that had been troubling her for awhile now. It was enough of an awareness that she decided to set course for her favorite coffee shop, for she was a long-time regular of the shop, and she could reasonably expect to meet a casual acquaintance or two -- people who might distract her from her thoughts.
Amy didn't precisely hope to meet Karl at the shop. She merely acknowledged she would be likely to find him there, for, within just the past two or three months, Karl had gone from his first visit, to becoming an almost daily customer. She wouldn't mind seeing his grin today; but, all the same, Amy did not actually hope to see Karl.
Amy harbored surprisingly few hopes about anything -- great or small. She wasn't often depressed, but she had grown up in poverty, and had early on developed a habit of not hoping for much.
Amy had slowly come to recognize that her habit of quickly dismissing the hopes that naturally arose in her had opened the door to her increasingly troubled awareness of life's inanity. "Inanity" was her word for it. She meant by that the too often predictable, essentially senseless way things tended to play out.
The other day at work, for instance, Stan had opposed Suzanne's project for no apparent reason beyond that he simply didn't get along with her. When most of the rest of the staff had pointed out how sensible Suzanne's project really was, Stan had further entrenched his opposition.
If Amy had hoped that Stan would change -- either change his opinion of Suzanne's project, or change his habit of opposing things for personal reasons -- or, if she had hoped that she herself or someone else could change him -- her hope would have most likely hidden from her the full impact of Stan's inanity.
There was a great deal more to it than Stan, though. Everything from the world's endless wars to her brother-in-law's unnecessarily harsh, and entirely unchangeable, self-criticism was contributing to her feelings that life was essentially inane.
"Maybe most of us get by because of our hopes", she thought as she approached the coffee shop's door, "Our largely, back of the mind hopes that life will get better, that things will improve, that there will be a real difference between today and tomorrow." When she entered the shop and almost at once saw Karl, she felt relief.
_________________________________
Unknown to Amy, Karl was accustomed to bright women, even to bright, very physically attractive women, and, while he didn't fail to appreciate those things about her, he was more deeply drawn to the way she talked about herself.
Or more precisely, the way she did not talk about herself. Karl had noticed it the first time the two had sat down together. But since it was such a subtle thing, he hadn't reached a conclusion about it until he'd talked with her several times. Amy didn't spin herself.
"Odd for a Director of Communications", Karl had thought, and, since he enjoyed discovering oddball things about people, Amy's behavior had more than a little intrigued him. He'd learned she was willing to tell stories about herself, and even to talk about her feelings. But she was apparently very reluctant to spin herself.
Amy had almost never said a word to him about how she thought of herself, beyond making several clearly humorous remarks. But she had not tried to tell Karl what he should believe about her. She hadn't said anything like, "I'm a straightforward person who hates hypocrisy." Or, "I'm the sort who will not tolerate people being cruel to each other." Even most of the times she'd casually said she liked or disliked something, he'd had to ask for her opinion.
Karl had noticed that much about Amy, and along with her beauty and brains, it had perked up his interest in her. The question he really wanted an answer to, however, was just how kind she was. Karl had once been foolishly attracted to brains and beauty alone. Consequently, he had experienced his share of bright, beautiful, but unkind women. A few days before, he had decided he would try to get to know her better.
When Karl asked Amy to supper, she was not surprised. Men were always -- well, not always, but often enough -- asking her out. She was always declining, however, unless she received very clear signals they were taking a mere friendly interest in her. Ultimately, the problem was that Amy deeply and thoroughly distrusted her taste in men. At least, her romantic tastes. She was reasonably confident of her taste in friends.
She had made the decision about five or six years ago, in her late twenties. She'd been through one fumbling relationship after another since she was fourteen, and precociously developed. Two or three of the men had been abusive to varying degrees, but most of the men had merely been convenient. Convenient, and usually somewhat selfish in bed. At any rate, Amy had decided to take a break after her last lover, Jason, had cheated on her.
Originally, she hadn't intended the break to last longer than a year or two, but she'd soon enough discovered how much she liked being her own woman, and how little she cared to be answerable to people. Still, Amy sometimes thought that if the right man came along, she'd fall into his arms. But then she would remind herself of how poor her taste in men had been. She had a humorous picture of herself falling into the arms of a polygamist with two child brides.
Amy was about to give Karl her standard line, "We should do that sometime, but I'm really busy these next few weeks", when she felt a sudden need to trust Karl with the truth. At least, part of it. "I would take you up on that, Karl; I would, but I don't date. Anyone. I've had bad luck with that." Almost as soon as she said it, she regretted saying it. True or not, it was just the thing some man might seize on to tediously try and change her mind.
Karl responded by saying he would respect her decision, and wouldn't try to change it, but he was curious to know more about why she didn't date. Amy thought of excusing herself, thought of telling Karl she needed to go home, but then she felt a sudden and improbable desire to see if he really meant what he just said. So, she tried to explain as briefly as possible why she didn't go out with men.
Karl had kept his word. He hadn't tried to change her mind. But he had asked a lot of questions. A lot of questions. She'd found herself talking much longer than she had anticipated.
Most importantly, as she listened to herself, she'd begun to see her decision not to go to supper with Karl as quite possibly inane. Quite possibly? It was inane! It wasn't like he was asking her to make a commitment to him. And she already knew she enjoyed his company. Where was the harm?
But all of her relationships had started in much the same way, and she was fully aware of how easily she had slid into everyone of them. One small thing would lead to another, until.... "Oh, hell", she thought, "Give him a chance!"
It wasn't hope speaking to her, convincing her finally to give him a chance. And it wasn't entirely her desire to reject her own inanity, for the thought had crossed her mind that by indulging herself in her own inanity, she was being unfair, or unkind, to Karl. She didn't feel she actually owed him any exceptional kindness, but she just felt she wanted to be kind to him. And that, at last, had decided her.
The two settled, of course, on going Dutch.
Igor was concerned about Ryan and Eva, and would often advise them to take things more slowly. Unsurprisingly, both failed to see the smallest shred of validity in his concern.
"You don't know what you're talking about, Igor!", Ryan would always say. "Yeah, sure, Igor. We'll take it slower.", Eva would say while rolling her eyes.
Poor Igor didn't know what to do. He wanted them to see the reality of his concern so badly, but they were far too delved in sexual ecstasy to hear his voice. This led him to despair. He spent his nights drinking heavily, more than he used to, to wash away the pain as he awaited the dreaded likely outcome of Ryan and Eva's uncontrollable sexual impulses.
One night, Eva came through the doors of the bar he visited every night, with a big smile on her face. Igor was alarmed. "Eva! What's up?", he asked anxiously. "Oh nothing, i just thought i'd see what you're up to every night.", Eva replied, looking like she has something up her sleeve.
Just a few minutes later, a woman entered the bar, and screamed as she saw Eva.
"Eva! What a surprise!", the woman said.
"Olga! What are you doing here!", Eva replied, most enthusiastically.
Igor watched in agonizing boredom, as both women pretended to be surprised and exchanged too obviously fake small talk. "This is Igor.", Eva finally said, introducing them. "And this is Olga, my boss."
Igor considered leaving the bar rudely, but he felt that would be too unkind to both women. So he played along. "Hello Olga. Nice to meet you!".
"Hi! Nice to meet you too." Olga said, a bit shyly. Igor was contemplating committing suicide as he sat there, in part due to disbelief at Ryan and Eva's insolence, ignorance and arrogance, in assuming he needed a date, and in another part, because he thought Olga was hot. They did often tell him so. "Igor, you need a date to loosen up a bit. You take things way too seriously.", Ryan and Eva would say, while Igor shook his head in despair.
As he sat with both women, he was already drunk, but he drank even more severely for the rest of the night. The next morning, Igor woke up very tired and experiencing all the effects of a severe hang over.
As he stood in his room trying to compose himself, he saw the most horrifying scene. A naked woman was there, right there, in his very bed. He looked around to make sure, and it was indeed his place, but there was a naked woman in his bed! After careful examination, he realized it was Olga.
He went outside the room and dashed for his cellphone, and dialed Eva's number. It was Ryan who answered, however.
"Igor! How are things this morning?", asked Ryan very snobbishly.
"Oh, things are fine. Very fine. Tell me, is it your goal to make sure all of us engage in blind, uncontrollable sexual mania? Is that it?!"
"Yes.", replied Ryan, very calmly.
"Fool! Fool!! I would play along just to show you how much of a fool you are, but i wouldn't want to hurt poor Olga in the process."
He hung up without listening to Ryan and threw his cellphone on the table. He decided that he must tell Olga his thoughts. Surely, she would understand. She is a successful business woman, and mature, unlike Ryan and Eva.
He took a shower, got dressed and waited for Olga to wake up. When she finally did, he offered her a cop of coffee, which was just what she needed. As they sat there, him fully dressed and her fully naked, he started to bring forth his concerns. He shared it all, explained to her that he was not looking for a relationship, and explained why Ryan and Eva foolishly set them up.
Olga listened to him without saying anything. When he was finally finished with his speech, she looked bewildered, and remained silent for a bit. Tension built up, as he awaited her response. Finally, she said "Does this mean we're not going to the orgy i told you about next Saturday?"
Igor's eyes became narrow, as he deeply examined Olga. He awaited eagerly for her to say the words "Just kidding!", or anything similar. Unfortunately, most unfortunately for poor Igor, no such words ever came.
Last edited:
It's appalling what can happen to quite decent and proper men these days. Absolutely appalling!
BeckyRose1998
PICKLES THE KID
The wind blew through her dyed teal hair. She turned to her fiance, a tall man with dyed blue hair. She was only 17 and he was 21. However they knew they were in love
"Kai," she asked.
"Yes Mika?"
She rolled the window up in Kai's car. "Let's do it. We've been together for 2 years now. Please."
Kai sighed. He wanted to wait. "Alright, Mika."
He drove them back to his apartment. Kai's roommate, Gary, wouldn't be home until later.
"Here we are," Kai motioned around. "Home, sweet pineapple."
Mika grinned. "I like it." She grabbed Kai's left wrist and led him to the back room.
"Kai," she asked.
"Yes Mika?"
She rolled the window up in Kai's car. "Let's do it. We've been together for 2 years now. Please."
Kai sighed. He wanted to wait. "Alright, Mika."
He drove them back to his apartment. Kai's roommate, Gary, wouldn't be home until later.
"Here we are," Kai motioned around. "Home, sweet pineapple."
Mika grinned. "I like it." She grabbed Kai's left wrist and led him to the back room.