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Mark M Lichterman

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Books by Mark M Lichterman
BECOMING 178: Climax
By Mark M Lichterman
Posted: Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Last edited: Wednesday, August 01, 2012
This short story is rated "PG13" by the Author.
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…And the feel of Marsha’s breast within his hand caused the gauze-like veil of his subconscious to lift for a moment, then return to the dream of Marsha:

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The milk not working on the carpet, they decided it would be best to tell Mrs. Tennenbaum, and offer to pay for a new carpet.

Marsha suggested makeup remover.

Using cotton ball after cotton ball, fortunately the nail polish remover removed some of the ink from his legs, and, “Holy shit, that burns like hell!” most of it from his penis.

In the shower, taking a long shower, ink came from places he couldn’t even imagine.

In bed, wearing only pajama tops, she had tried waiting up for him.

But by the time he finished his extended shower and came from the bathroom, Marsha had fallen asleep.

Glad to see she was sleeping because by then he felt far from romantic. And, the laughter over, feeling more, much more than just a bit stupid —in the shower he’d reasoned, It’s an understandable mistake… Yeah, sure! Like everyone goes around sticking their dicks in a bottle of ink!

His legs and groin irritated by the scrubbing, to say nothing of the nail polish remover, deciding to sleep nude, Mitchell turned the lights off, got into bed… and soon fell asleep.


Seagate, New York

Christmas Morning

December 25, 1955

3:56 a.m.



The window open a bit, the curtain fluttered inward on the slight, winter breeze.


But for the sliver of light from beneath the door, the room was in total darkness.


In the room there was only the lulling sound of breathing.


Cold. Dark. Still and quiet.

The radiating heat of Marsha’s body drawing him. Turning in his sleep, unknowingly, Mitchell came closer…

And even closer…

…Until, nuzzling against the warmth of Marsha’s naked buttocks, feeling her warmth, sensing absolute, luxurious comfort…

The total of Mitchell’s consciousness once again became deeply suspended.

In the reach of her wondrous dream, sensing Mitchell’s body against her, Marsha moved her hips, arching herself, nestling her buttocks into the warm forming contour of his stomach and thighs.

His left arm beneath the pillow, his right arm under the blanket draped over her waist, where his hand lay upon the bare flesh of Marsha’s stomach…

…Then instinctively moved upward, beneath the loose-fitting pajama top, to the soft warmth of a sleep-creased breast…

…And the feel of Marsha’s breast within his hand caused the gauze-like veil of his subconscious to lift for a moment, then return to the dream of Marsha:

Of lying next to her.

Of feeling the softness of her breast within his hand.

Of feeling the warmth of her back against his chest.

Of feeling the roundness of her buttocks nestled closely against his stomach and thighs, and…

Marsha’s subconscious mind, flitting towards consciousness…

Mitchell’s subconscious mind hovering just beneath consciousness…

Both returned to their dream of lying close and comfortable, warm and safe…

…To the dream they each dream:

That Mitchell is holding her closely.

That Marsha is held in his arms, and…

A part of Mitchell stirred and, moving in his sleep…

Fractionally moving the dream of his turgid penis between the dream of the soft, enveloping fissure of Marsha’s buttocks…

In… out… in… out.

Through the layers of darkness, Marsha felt the erotically stirring, teasing friction…

In… out… in… out…

As the very tip of Mitchell’s penis probed into, and out of the moist, outer folds of her vagina, as…

Dreaming, wanting him there! Oh, God! Wanting him there, Marsha arched even further, as…

Dreaming… Wanting to be there! Oh, God! Wanting to be there, Mitchell drew himself, and herself even closer, and…

The front of his thighs and legs formed tightly against the back of her thighs and legs, and his forward straining pelvis molded tightly, oh, so tightly against her sharply angled backside…

In the ethereal wisps of their dreams…

“Mmm,” moaning in his sleep, Mitchell strained forward.

“Mitchell…” Whispering his name, “Mitchell…”

Suddenly awake…

“Mitchell,” Marsha said softly. “Love me.” As…

Placing a hand behind his head and a hand onto his hip, turning onto her back, bringing his face to her face, and his body onto her body…

His wondrous dream became vaporous… then faded, and…

….Marsha and Mitchell kissed, and as they did, they…


“I love you!” Feeling his soul enfolded within the lubricious sheath of Marsha…

…enfolded within her warmth.

…Within the fathomless, mental, physical, all-enveloping warmth.

“I love you.” Coming from the heart of each…

“I love you.”

With each thrust, he whispered her name…


With each withdrawal… “I love you.”


 Christmas Day….




                                                                        The Beginning




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Reviewed by Karen Lynn Vidra, The Texas Tornado 6/22/2011
Great story, Mark; well done!

(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Texas, Karen Lynn. :D
Reviewed by Annabel Sheila 6/21/2011
I've been wondering what clever plan you had of making it finally happen.....and it was perfect! Bravo, Mark!!!!! Well done!

Reviewed by Laura Fall 6/21/2011
A wonderful write my friend and an enjoyable read indeed on a great story Laura

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