Whitzz/544K-RP-Datasets huggingface dataset:
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

The entire experience of being so near you causes my mind to reel. Yes, she really responded, and yes, here we are, together. Not really, I answer, hating to have to deal with anything so mundane. My firm brings me here just once a year, from Louisville. I'm glad... I pausing, ready to make my first confession, that this was the time to come here. My breathing is deeper than usual I try to calm my body, but it's not responding well. Teresa... I speak again, loving the sound of your name. You want to sit down... maybe chat a bit? Truth was, I didn't have much of a game plan truth was, I never imagined you'd show up. And so I was still in a bit of shock. And then the realization dawned on me chatting would be fine, but I really wanted to be much nearer to you... than that.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

I felt the shift and leaned back, daring to break a bit of the contact with you to look into your face. My eyes are bright, and as I glance at you again, I can't help but mentally pinch myself. Reality rushes in and my fingers gently squeeze your upper arms as I try to remain focused. Your answer makes me think of something pedestrian. You are far, but not too far. And once a year? My playful nature surged to the fore and whispered at me, 'Then this would have to be a memorable one, because a lot of things could happen in a year...' Sit? I ask, glad to shut that voice up for the moment, swallowing a little at the suggestion for more separation. We can do that, I respond hesitantly, and lean in to give you a finishing flair for the embrace that has begun to define this meeting. And I find myself asking something I would never have considered before stepping onto that elevator. Actually, I kind of like this, if that's all right? My heart beat harder at that, and I almost lean away, knowing that certainly, that thrum in my chest could not be missed. But I was loathe to move, enjoying the sound of your voice against my cheek. I try to remain calm, laying my face against your chest again, and say as nonchalantly as my breathless voice can manage, So, Kevin, what do you want to talk about?
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

This is very alright, Teresa. I ventured to let a part of my stirring heart show. I really don't need anything else at this moment but to hold you, I confess, my body finding a new closeness to you. I suddenly felt ever-so-slightly light-headed, the wonder of your invitation sweeping over me. She wants to hold you, you dolt , I told myself. And so I did. Two awarenesses rush over me as we embrace, a bit more intimately than our first. I blush to remember the sheer innocence of it all, but I distinctly felt your breasts pressing against my chest, and it was a beautiful sensation. You are soft, yet firm, and very warm. And I feel amazingly comfortable. And at the same time, the arousal that had begun earlier but had managed to stay incognito is hidden no longer. I am certain you must feel my emerging hardness forming against your midsection... and though I am embarrassed, I can no longer pull away that metal from a magnet. I am drawn to you on a very physical level, and I love the sense of holding you close. The question of what I want to talk about is not ignored it is forgotten. I feel like I can hold you like this... forever.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

My breath comes shallower in my chest, unsure as to whether it's the answer to my question or your rising need that I feel pressing against me. I allow the feelings to flow and am glad of your embrace since I'm no longer sure that I can stand on my own. I feel the heat of you from beneath your clothing, radiating warmth that makes me respond to you and my heart thumps louder. I'm sure you can't mistake that sound it rushes in my ears and my arms slide closer, palm now open on my free hand to reassure me that you really are here. That I really am here. There is so much I wish to say, and lack not a courageous bone in my body to even form the words. Shyness suddenly overcomes me, and I close my eyes, just trying to digest everything. My cheeks flush, and I'm thankful that you, too, are quiet in the moment. I'm usually quite witty, but here and now, I am almost speechless. Kevin... My voice is thick and I stop. It is full of emotion, and it's too much. So, taking a breath, I tremble a little. Maybe we should sit down. Before I fall down, I mean, and blush at the thought of it.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

I can't identify it, but you are clearly responding to me... to us. I'm used to second-guessing myself in relationships. Did I read it wrong? What if I blow it? How will I mess this up? But I sense that this... that you... will be different. It sounds cliche, but my heart truly is racing. The sheer aliveness of this moment with you makes all moments that came before seem plastic, shallow, hallow. Let's sit, I agree, but instead of the couch, we find ourselves at the foot of the king-size bed that is naturally meant to be the center of the room. We sit somewhat awkwardly, reminding me of a boy and girl sitting at the Junior High dance, unsure of what to do with arms and legs and... I am seated on your right, my left hand on your back, my right on my lap, but moving instinctively to your leg. I want to kiss you, but even now that feels too forward. But a simple statement spills forth. And I blush. Teresa... you feel... really nice... I can't look you in the eyes.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

' Moving is good ,' I think. ' Breathing is good, too, and not so I hyperventilate, no, that wouldn't be all that good at all... ' I try to stay focused, upright and in the room. This has never happened, never even been considered... I almost fall onto the end of the bed it has more give than I expected and I cling to you for a moment, then right myself, blushing furiously. Your hand on my back calms me a little, and your hand on my thigh, it heats my skin with the touch. ' How old are you, Teresa? ' Running a hand through my hair I think that I'm good, I can do this, I can sit with a stranger, I can talk, I can even... I d-d-d-d-do? I stutter in response. And bring down more internal reprimands... 'Oh now really. How damned attractive. Yes, it was official. You have regressed and not so... ' Wait. You do too, I say, cutting my self-doubt off at the knees. Placing a gentle hand on top of yours, it trembles just a bit, and stealing a glance at you, notice you won't look at me. Somehow, that makes me feel better, and I venture a small question, stepping tenuously out on that limb, hearing the cracking beneath my weight already in my own mind... Why did you give me your card in the restaurant, Kevin?
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

My nerves settle. And I venture to look at you, very aware of where we are now. Yes, Teresa... you do... respond. Your question unnerves me, strangely. I did not see it coming. I breath in deeply, and swallow hard. Time to be bold, though my heart is preparing to leap from my chest. Why? Because I was quite... drawn to you. I breath in again. And because... I wanted to do... this... And I leaned to you, closing my eyes, and pressed my lips, just slightly open, to yours.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

The distance closes between us. I must admit, I expect a flippant remark, or some excuse that you were actually looking at my friend but settled for me. But that is not the case, that isn't in your eyes, nor in your words as you lean forward. I can do nothing more than follow. Like two sides of the same coin, we are drawn to together. My heart is beating wildly, my breath shallow in my chest and the touch, electric, as my lips meet yours. I feel that hand resting on my back now pressing me forward into you, and I need to find a place to hang on before I lose traction. Who the hell thinks silken comforters are sexy, anyway? My hands reach out, grasping at your shirt, and I hang on, clinging to the contact as though it simply punctuated what we had been saying to each other downstairs -- without speech -- just eyes. And something indescribable that has exploded here in this room. Your room. I am breathless, like all of the air has been sucked from my lungs and I lean back from it, trying to catch it before I see spots before my eyes. I blink at you, more in shock that it wasn't just in my head and move my grip to your upper arms. Good and solid. And reassuring. I wasn't going to fall. Because if I did, I had every reason to believe that you would catch me. A flush colours my cheeks, my eyes now sparkling and I look to your reaction. I'm not sure who kissed who... um whom... but I want to know if that initial contact was a mistake. Or if that set off something more.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Our kiss -- our first kiss -- is simple. Understated. Pure. Gentle. Soft. Momentary. Your touch, the softness of your lips against mine, and the warmth that radiates from your face and enlightens mine... the scent that you carry, the slight taste the tip of my tongue discerns... it is all very simple. And direct. And erotic. And electric. Your hand settles on mine, and my chest tightens, a primeval response that I have no control over. But when you grasp takes hold of my shirt, there's a tingle that washes over my entire body. It is so here's that word again simple, yet wonderful. And then you pull away. My mind stops abruptly, having forgotten to fasten my seatbelt, and I crash forward, instantly terrified that I have done something wrong. Fearfully I open my eyes and see your face, and my mind is set at ease. You're not running. You're not threatened. You are breathless. And silly words escape my lips, before I have time to think. Wow... you are... wow! My words are very quiet, yet intense, punctuated by the wide, spontaneous smile on my face. I want to kiss you again. Badly.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

I must look a sight, staring up at you. But suddenly, like a pressure valve has been released, that doesn't matter to me anymore. I could ask questions, I could toy with answers, talk myself into or out of many different places, and it would not alter this one plain and simple fact That was one helluva kiss. Spontaneous. Memorable. And so thrilling that I feel your reaction to the very tips of my toes. Swallowing becomes difficult, and your smile that lights up your face can only pale slightly in the brightness of my own. Wow is right... I struggle to say, and am spilling forward again without even knowing when the muscles that govern such things have abandoned ship or mutinied. Or had learned to think on their own. Or ceased to function. What I want has become more instinct than knowledge, and my fingers tighten around your biceps, either bracing you or me for what was about to come. I want to say your name, but it must be etched in my eyes as you begin to unfocus the closer I get...
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

I want you. That's all I'm certain of at this moment. I want you. I want to be near you. I want to feel you, touch you, kiss you taste you, experience you. My right hand ventures up to the side of your face, feeling your softness and warmth as our bodies draw togther. My eyes are closed I don't know about yours. My lips are parted slightly, my tongue poised just behind my lips. Our lips meet again, my fingertips finding the velvet of your hair. All of my sense are fully and totally alive to you. My thumb finds the soft place just in front of your ear and I lean into the kiss. Somehow, in ways unknown me, we both instinctively know to lean back, your back finding the mattress as our kiss deepens I am supported on my left elbow, my hand just under your shoulder. I sneak a peek, opening my eyes just a fraction, and catch the lovely sight of your hair splashing upon the silken comforter. Our kiss tightens as my lip form into a smile. How the hell was I so lucky to find you?
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

I'm breathing, I'm sure of it, and as I close my eyes, leaning more into the kiss, little sparkles of colour burst inside of my head. Your hands are gentle, warm... And all I know is that I want to press against you, feel you, your heart beat thrumming against mine and I'm overwhelmed by it. My back seeks support, not desperately, but gently and in increments, finally resting in a cloud of silken texture and you. Your soft touch, your reassuring strength, I feel held there with you, suspended in the moment. After that breath of blissful sharing, my lips part slightly and my hands shift to slide across your back, softly exploring and pressing. The initial nervousness is replaced by a different tension, and I blink my eyes open to take you in above me. Your face fills my vision, the smoothness of your forehead, the slight stubble beginning on your cheek, eyes closed. The kiss unbroken. I want to stroke along your brow, question why you had even noticed me. But that thought swirls out of existence in the rising storm within me and my hands seek your shoulders instead as my eyes flutter closed once more.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Is it possible that my desire is clouding my perspective? I'm not sure just what is happening I am only aware that there is no where else on this planet I wish to be than close to you. As we kiss, enveloped by the streams of passion that are carrying us both away, my hand shifts on your cheek, my thumb brushing near the lips that are bringing me such pleasure. As my hand moves, my arm moves with it, touching very lightly against the mound of your left breast, sparking a whole new array of desires and longings within me. For the first time, our tongues meet, and the sensation is exhilirating. The warmth, the softness, the wetness conspire to make me lose all awareness of everything else. All I know is you. All I want... is you.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

Soft caress. It joins with the passionate pressure against my lips, and my nerve endings are so bristling that I feel every motion, no matter how slight, brushing my body. That light contact burns its way from my lips to my nipple which hardens with the swipe of your arm. I gasp in your mouth, arching slightly as my eyes fly open. Warmth curls lower, touching me, awakening something so deep inside of me that I didn't even know that it lurked there... waiting. I taste your tongue on mine, and a heated want wraps around me like a gentle blanket. My mouth opens wider, my head presses forward as I shift to hold you closer to me. I press into you and feel that pulsing move within me, my blood carrying it through my veins like liquid fire.
Thread: The Renaissance... an invitation to develop a story

My body is alive with desire to yours. My longing for you is growing, desire heightening in rhythm with the hardness that is developing below. I feel your breath as my arm brushes your breast and I know I should hold off... but I don't. Exchanging what should be for what desire beacons forth, my hand trails down the side of your face... feeling the warmth of your neck... and then your upper arm... before coming to press softly against the fullness of your breast. A part of me cautions that I am going too far, but your responsiveness is a mistress I cannot resist. As I feel the fabric beneath my hand my leg comes to rest against yours, our kiss deepening at the same time. Our tongues clash, revelling in the sheer pleasure of their encounter.
Thread: Of War and LOve (me and Dream)

Gabriel sighed, as he walked along with his father, into the former rivaling lycans territory. It was quite hard for him to understand that they both needed each other now, when all he had been taught for years was to hate the lot of them. The lycan was everything that was expected of a warrior, having a tall and toned body. Short black hair and deadly green eyes. The small scar, to the side of his face proving that he had been in quite a few battlesand survived. It seemed baffling to him, that while their own numbers were dwindilling, the Merchant clan was thriving, since they had enjoyed their protection. After all, almost all of the fighting with the humans had been carried out by them. This is humiliating he said, to the man that had come up to meet them, to help their clan get settled in to what was to become their new home. You should be getting on your knees and thanking us
Thread: Of War and LOve (me and Dream)

It's you who should be thanking us. We're being gracious, sharing our women, or food our beds, our homes. Against the behest of many I welcome you here. So you'd do best to guard your tongues. Hezmat, the grand merchant and guardian of his people, was summoned to meet with the visitors from their sister clan which consisted of heavily skilled warriors and champions. Hezmat was young to be the grand guardian, a few years shy of his thirties, but he had the wisdom that his father possessed before his passing two years prior. He ran a hand through his shaggy, chocolate brown mane and crossed his hands across his lithe chest. Darkness was coming, and fast - he could tell by the orchestra of crickets chirping ever so cheerfully, and the sun's light waning on the horizon. The current abode that the merchant clan had nestled in was a small thatch of land ensconced by a series of mountains. There was only one entrance, which was approximately two miles away from their current village, and was heavily guarded by merchant and warrior alike. Much to his chagrin, Hezmat became cognizant of the group of accumulating lycans that were nosily listening in on their conversation. Enough of this. We will talk privately. Please follow me to my tent. During their trek Hezmat was greeted with friendly smiles belonging to what little numbers his clan had left. They had expected him to marry shortly and hold an heir, but the one woman he displayed inexplicable passion for did not reciprocate his love. The light haired man's yurt was large the roof hoisted high so it wouldn't catch fire. It was isolated well. There were books and tomes lazily disdained on a make-shift desk he had, along with candles and quills. The most prominent object in the tent was the satchel he carried. It was a messenger bag forged of tanned leather and salmon skin which rested neatly on his cot. All merchants had one, and it marks their right of passage when they received one. We have many things to discuss, but ... the night is coming quickly and I tire of this irrelevant satire- as he proceeded to speak, a woman entered the tent. Her presence made his heart stop and his mouth run dry he blinked and all but gawked in her direction. She was Ammon, the woman he was smitten with. Everything about her he found attractive, from her thick, unruly coal mane to the hue of her evanescent green eyes. She was a bronze-skinned beauty, tall and very curvaceous. She was sought after by many men but refused to wed or bare children. It was her vow to be a merchant and server her people that kept her from doing so. A-Ammon. Why ... why are you in here? He was always dumbfounded by her arrogance she had came and went as she pleased. As perusal, she took moments before replying. Aubrey wants the grimoire you found in Alabaster. She is both pregnant and restless ... I'd rather not return to her empty handed. Hezmat was entranced by her soft, motherly tone. He took a moment to mull in it, but then motioned towards his desk. listulistulistulistulistulistulistu
Thread: Of War and LOve (me and Dream)

But it has been our blood that has been spilled in order to keep these pesky humans in checkand not yours Gabriel replied to him. He didnt care much for the mans status or position. The young lycan had been in far too many skirmishes to let any insults pass. His father placed his aged hand over his chest, letting him know that he should keep quiet. Leadership of his own clan wasnt his yet. Although everyone whispered, behind closed doors, that it wouldnt be long, before their elder leader would pass away. Leaving his impulsive son to take his place. Father and son followed Hezmat into his tent, in order for all of the terms of their newly forged agreement could be well ironed out. Gabriel would never admitit to it, but he was facinated by it. His green emerald eyes just looking all over the place, curious glances resting upon the many objects that Hezmat had there, just laying around. It was unlike anything he had ever seen. Since their clan lived much more sparsely, with little less than a roof over their heads, food and a few quills as well. Satire or not, the details should be fully discussed now said Gabriel father. With his son just lurking in the background. But when the woman entered the tent, Gabriel couldnt help himself from simply staring at her. Trying his very best just not to lick his lips. The number of females had seriously dwindelled in his clan over the years, and that had been one of the main reasons why the deal had been struck in the first place. It was only natural for him to be very interested in that, now that he was old enough to take a mate. He repeated her name to himself Ammon, inside his head. Not wantng to forget it, when the time was right.
Thread: Of War and LOve (me and Dream)

We, too, have suffered heavy casualty. Suddenly, Ammon intervened. She took perch aside her chieftain Hezmat, standing tall and proud like a rooted oak tree. The moment the sun breaks the horizon tomorrow morning a caravan of our merchants will be traveling to local villages to barter, buy and sell what little spoils we have at our disposal to feed your mouths. I, of all our people, am most grateful that you've made this trek here safely to aid us in this time of need. I think it's safe to say we've both sacrificed much, it's not a matter of who's lost more then the other. It was the young woman's words of wisdom that left Hezmat guffawed. Ammon was wise beyond her years, this much was true, but the woman ... she had rarely spoken. Often more then not Ammon left her actions speak and she always remained impartial. As to why she suddenly intervened, it was beyond him. The people of their clan knew Ammon only got herself involved if the matter intrigued her in some manner. Hezmat pressed his lips in a hard line and heaved a heavy groan of defeat. I hate when you come in here and ... sputter truth, Hezmat prodded playfully. But! I won't be moved. We'll all talk tomorrow with full bellies, huh? He let forth a deep, jolly chortle, one that shook the very foundation of his yurt. Speaking of food ... Ammon, wanna be a doll and get these gentlemen something to eat and show them to their tents? I'd rather not. Damn it, woman. Stop being so difficult. Ammon was silent for a moment - there was a low light of acceptance in her voice. She then raised her hand, and beckoned for the father son pair to follow.listulistulistulistulistulistulistu