Pause

Where do I go from here?

I'm not perfect. And there are still stories to tell.

Even my own.

Many chapters yet to be written.

Hugs Trio

It really is the truth.

Can you doubt it?

I am going to slip the lines now, into the more sensual.

Some people might say that it's just because I'm a bastard.

I'd say that it's because I'm...honest.

I'm going to start off with Anna, a real sweetheart, and a remarkably sexy woman.

Anna also had a remarkable figure, and I'll remember how closely she pressed to me...and how damn good she felt. Soaking into me, feeling one another's warmth, hungering to be closer. The raging chemistry, both of us seeking closeness until we were within one another's skins. Her belly against me, her firm, rounded breasts hard pressed to pancakes against my chest.

And that fully dressed.

Before a hundred eyes.

Again, damn, did Anna feel good in my arms.

**

Then there was Becky, who was a little more...unanticipated.

As well as confusing.

Becky was a friend of a friend.

A longtime divorcee a few years older than I, the three of us often spent evenings watching TV. And because I give hugs fairly freely, especially to people that I like, I would offer Becky a hug at the end of the evening.

They quickly became...addictive.

Now, Becky was taller than my average hugging partner, and I'd say that she was moderately full busted. Slightly larger than average.

But Becky, quiet, good, respectable Worship service organizer Becky, immediately made those nighttime hugs an adventure.

For Becky...hugged with her breasts.

The first time that I hugged her, I thought it was an accident.

The second time, I thought it an innocent gift, how her breasts were pressed so into my chest. An incidental gift, to be savored and appreciated. An idiosyncracy of this particular woman.

Then I glanced to where Becky was standing by the door, saying her last good-nights.

And my eyes widened, to see her nipples standing hard through her blouse.

I didn't mention this to our mutual friend.

I simply made a point of hugging Becky whenever appropriate.

And after that first notice, I always hazarded a glance upon parting.

Always to find Becky's response confirming my original observation. Always.

The, one day, it happened.

I don't know what was different.

Perhaps she wasn't wearing a bra, or perhaps it was an exceptionally sheer, silken variety.

But when Becky hugged me, I felt the immediate warmth, even the graceful curve of her breasts pancaked against me.

I'm afraid that my eyes flew open in surprise.

My, were these nice breasts.

**

Then we come to Linda, yet another Linda. A longtime friend, that I have always, from the moment that I met her, found to be...remarkably sexy and attractive. Lithe and athletic, with soft, blond hair and a passionate soul, it was always clear to me that she would be a remarkable lover. Unfortunately, her interests remained elsewhere.

I still remember the day. It was an afternoon that I visited, and we sat and talked in her living room for long, pleasant hours. It was time for me to leave, and we slowly worked our way out to the back door, chatting.

In the middle of the kitchen we paused, and looked at one another, Linda and I. I put out my hand, and gently tugged her into my arms. I was a bit surprised at how freely she came, and how she stretched her lslender figure on tiptoes into the warmth of my chest. Linda felt good there, she did, her lean, athletic figure, and I savored every moment of that deeply attractive woman. Indeed, I finally couldn't resist, and slipped a hand down to caress that lovely rump that I had so long admired.

Barely had I touched said goal though, when Linda broke the embrace, pushing away from me with a not so sharp, "No copping a feel!"

I was so startled, mentally examining what I considered an incongruous term (a backside, however nice, is not where I consider "copping" territory) that I unwisely didn't look at Linda, or closely consider her reaction.

After all, she hadn't pushed away that hard, or violently at all.

And I suppose I'll always wonder if there was a sparkle in her bright blue eyes.

Ah, hugs.

Hugs Two

I said that I'd continue with a recollection of hugs, and I apologize that it's been so long since the last installment. I've been writing...elsewhere.

The next pair have a certain similarity, because each served to open my eyes to a different reality. In each case, a woman both shared her femininity with me...and enjoyed something of me. Each in a subtly different manner, but each equally remarkable.

Separated by almost twenty years.

Linda comes first. She was slender and graceful, pretty verging on beautiful, with a sleek, lithe figure. Alive and vivacious, I only ever dreamed of a woman like her.

I'll never forget my surprise one day when she stepped into my arms.

At the time, it was the most profoundly honest hug of my life. It's still at the top.

For Linda simply stepped into my arms, and made herself at home.

She melded with me, fit with me, became a part of me.

I would almost say that she snuggled into me, but that would be saying it all wrong, considering the circumstances.

But once in her life, she opened herself completely to me. Opened herself and gave her femininity to me, her warmth and softness.

While she mingled with...me.

Drank something of my own warmth.

Blending.

She took my breath away.

**

Joyce would as well.

I'll admit that I had long found Joyce attractive, on a number of levels. Nice legs, what I would call an "athletic hourglass" figure, and a warm and generous personality. However, to me she seemed absolutely unavailable, both in circumstance, and by what I knew of her personality.

It was supposed to be a simple good-bye hug.

Joyce stepped into my arms, and the world stood still.

I was aware as she carefully nestled her full breasts halfway into my chest. I simply figured that she was trying not to be too...friendly. Calculating how close she could come. Adjusting for appropriate contact.

But then...

Then she simply relaxed into my arms.

I felt, more than heard, Joyce sigh as her head settled onto my chest. Arms wrapped around me, I was suddenly more aware of her as a woman than I had ever been...which was saying something. As with Linda, Joyce simply melted, allowing herself to flow into me.

In sudden disbelief, as the hug lingered for long moments, I glanced down at her face...just as Joyce slid a hand down to the small of my back, and her soft fingers caressed a slow circle.

Looking at the lines of her face, cheek pressed against my chest, I realized that I'd never understood just how beautiful Joyce truly was.

Two disparate women.

Two hugs.

Incredible gifts of themselves.