JAZZMON AND ME
By Thomas C. Dane


     I sat there on the bed, clothed in nothing more than my briefs.  I 
looked up at the closed door.  There was sound of movement, but little 
else. I started to get restless.   I stood up and looked at myself in 
the mirror. Not too bad for a fifty-four-year-old man, I thought.  I was 
not too tall, about 5'8", or 5'9", and on the slim side, about 140 
pounds.  I exercised regularly, so I had a narrow waist, and was fairly 
strong in the arms.  I was also covered with hair from my neck down to 
my ankles.  I wondered if I were the type of man Jazz would like. 

Almost as an answer to the question, the door to the other room slowly 
opened.  Jazz stood there, her voluptuous form wrapped in a filmy white 
bikini, her statuesque height made more so by the five inch spiked heels 
she wore.  She was magnificent, with her well-toned, muscular arms, 
narrow waist, and trim, firm, behind. She was smiling -- not a broad 
smile, but a reserved one, as if she knew that I was a little nervous 
about what was going to happen. 

"You are fantastic," I said to her. "Thank you," she answered. There was 
a long silence.  I really didn't know what to say or do next. I really 
didn't have to.  She came close to me, put one arm around my waist, and 
easily lifted me up to her hips. "God, you're strong," I managed to 
wheeze out. "Nothing to it, sweetie," she said as she easily carried me 
around the room two or three times.  She wasn't even breathing hard. 
Still holding me around my waist, she put her other arm underneath my 
thighs, and lifted me into a cradle carry.  Again, she did it with no 
effort at all. I put my arms around her strong, yet somehow very soft 
neck.  I was aroused beyond my wildest dreams. "Am I too heavy?" I 
asked. "You're light as a feather, hon.  See?"  She threw me up in the 
air and then caught me. "I could hold you like this all day." "Then why 
don't you?" I said, putting my head on her shoulder and closing my eyes. 
"This is a dream come true." I let her carry me around to her heart's 
content.  It might have been five minutes or five hours, but it didn't 
matter.  I was in erotic heaven.  I was in the arms of the woman who 
could carry me, hold me, and yet, still manage to like me.