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You stop your pacing, open the refrigerator and ignore the fragrance of modern pollution and pigeon shit that wanders in from the balcony. You retrieve an orange and you stop to take in its piquant aroma in the hope that it will replace the stench of modernity. You vigorously peel the fruit with your fingers and the scent expands and I’m enthralled by the show until you break the moment by popping a fleshy morsel into your mouth, bite into its flesh and smile as juice sparkles from the corner of your mouth. I toy with the idea of licking it away but I don’t joke about the humidity and the annoying way my satin nightshirt clings to my body. It suffocates my skin so I remove the offending garment and watch your eyes absorb my bare skin.
**
It’s futile to ignore the warm pocket of air between your cock and my ass as I bend down to check the roast. Who in the fuck considers roast on a humid day like this?
My rear says hello by nudging your pelvis within seconds and you nod and acknowledge the interval. Your chin caresses my head and I smell your fresh sweat.
‘Did you not hear me? What’s in the oven?’
It’s difficult for me to hear you when my head is awash with blood-red lewd thoughts.
You sweetly smile. ‘Is your mind elsewhere?’
Your voice is tinged with a sliver of menace and your hand lovingly strokes my hair in a fatherly manner and with that thought I feel torrid.
**
Each exquisite stroke lulls me into a rose hued sense of security, and I briefly drift into a realm of sweetened sentiments that’s aptly punctured by gentle strokes of your cock, that is, until your other hand tugs the gusset of my cotton panties downward, paying no heed to my flesh. It’s a clever ploy. The fabric rides up into the moistened slit between my legs. Your hand continues to soothe my weary head, while your other…
**
My cunt begins to flower and trickle as your fingers delve into my hair. You take hold and I try to press my thighs together to offset the friction. Your voice scrapes my ear and the tension of the cotton – as you shake it from side to side – burns my clit. You use your bare teeth on my ear lobe, tugging my flesh as though your life hangs between the balance.
I exhale through my teeth while you work that cotton deep between my inner labia; the outer flesh escapes the burn and pleasure seems so close yet so far.
‘This is only the entrée,’ you say and jab me with your cock.
I’d bend over but your fingers pull the cotton aside and stir my flesh with hard circular strokes that take my entire pussy into account. I turn my head. Every strand within my scalp tautens and your fingers barge in. They waste no time, and hammer away.
‘Oh…!’
I’ve lost count. How many have you stuck into me?
You slide out, skate up and down my moist hot groove and my lips curl until they tingle.
‘Sh…it…’ and the word elongates as you sting my clit with your fingers. Each firm tap gives way to a cacophony that squeezes out every drop of juice.
**
‘Get on up. Sit!’ you order, and I do it, because I need to.
You spread my legs wide and sweetly smile at the cutlery drawer beneath me. I close my ears, hear your hand rummaging around, and open.
‘I’m taking these off…’
My eyes watch the shiny serrated blade. You run its sharp point over my wet crotch and up toward my navel. I swallow hard as the blade caresses my skin, and silently watch as you circle the depression that once housed my umbilicus.
‘Round and round we go…’
And where it stops?
‘Don’t move.’
Your hand takes a detour, as does the blade. You raise the cotton and pierce it at the junction of my labia. You slice through the fabric while I pant until I reach the point where I need a rigorous invasion or assault on my ravenous pussy.
You know I need it.
Do it…
**
You eat your dinner, licking away at my clit.
Buried within me are three energetic digits, that stoke audacious thoughts.
Fuck me, stick them…all the way inside.
Your lips clamp my distended clit.
I buck.
I heave.
I gush…soaking your lips and chin with every morsel of my lust.
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