We ate dinner in front of the TV, our plates in hand. When I finished (my meat and potatoes, cuz I’m that kind of guy), you took my plate to the kitchen (cuz you’re that kind of girl).
I kick back in my lazyboy with a beer and watch your shows with you. Real Housewives of Lies and Deceit or whatever it’s called. When my beer is empty, there you are standing with another. Only this time, you’re not wearing pants. Interesting. I get a little tingle in my junk.
I watch your little ass cheeks, completely exposed as the only thing your leopard print thong covers is your special place and not a bit more. Your girl parts neatly tucked inside the pocket panty.
When a commercial comes on, this time I follow you to the kitchen.
I walk up behind you, pull your hair just enough to where I can get my mouth around your neck and suck. I lick up your neck to your ear where I nibble from the lobe and half way up your ear.
I pick you up and set you down on the table, thrusting my tongue in your mouth, your arms draped around my neck.
"Hang on one second, don’t move!" I say.
I turn all the lights off. There’s only the trace of light filtering in from the back porch that exposes your tits to me. One tit in the dim light, the other in the shadows.
I cup each breast in my hand and spend time sucking and tonging your nipples. I kiss down your side as my finger finds your wet opening and goes inside.
I lay you down gently on the table.
I pull off my shorts exposing my hard, aching cock.
I lean over you to take a rose out of the vase on the table. I tear off the pedals and lay each one on your skin, followed by a kiss and a rub.
I lay the final pedal on your clit. I hold it there with my thumb as I slide my cock inside your tight, wet, wanting flower. My cock swells inside you. I am going to take this slow, enjoy every minute of it.
The rose pedals are disappearing as my thrusts get harder…and faster…the fall on the table, onto the floor.
I pull you down on me so I can fuck you deep. I love the way you feel. I love the way you smell.
I climb on the table now with you. I’m about to cum. I pull out and shoot off on your tits and then sit down on your face, my cock in your throat, my balls on your chin.
I feel you sucking ever last drop out of me. God, I love how you suck me. You’re a natural born cock eater.
When the well is dry, we both stand, pulling ourselves together, embracing, kissing, loving.
“You’re going to have to do certain things to make money and certain things to fulfill yourself creatively and they’re not always the same thing…”—Sara Blake via The Great Discontent, on feeling satisfied creatively (via creativesomething)
“Your face looks more than slightly dangerous with need, and relief washes over me when I see the smile lurking behind your eyes. That mix of dark and sweet in you had me, claws in deep, from the moment we met. Bad boy with brutal hands or irresistibly charming butch—no matter, I was a goner. Still am. You cup my head tenderly in one hand and unzip your jeans slowly with the other, savoring the sudden gleam in my eye. How I love the sound of your zipper. I tremble as much from anticipation of what is coming next as from the sharp pain in my knees and legs.”—from The Big Book of Submission (via cleispress)
Two Creamers: Secret Sexual Confessions - Kindle edition by Robert Ceivers. Download it once and read it on your Kindle device, PC, phones or tablets. Use features like bookmarks, note taking and highlighting while reading Two Creamers: Secret Sexual Confessions.