MSD: Night Twelve
What a freakin’ night… he leaned against the door frame of his second-floor walk-up, not sure if he had the energy to finish the walk through the opening, even if it was Sara Evans on the video channel he had left playing. It had been a shitty day at work, “one of those days,” and he had decided at 3 o’clock that Happy Hour at the bar down the street from his house sounded like something he couldn’t pass up. Even the idea of running home to spend the evening in deep contemplation of the past two weeks’ worth of dreams, those hot, sexy, erotic, steamy, obscene, sensual dreams, mmm, dreams… wasn’t enough to keep him from a pitcher or three of something domestic, light, and cold. Despite his crappy day, and despite the alcohol in his system, or maybe a little because of both, he sat down at his computer to continue the list of details from those incredible dreams he’d started working on after, like, the seventh consecutive night. He thought it might help him figure out what was really going on, what these dreams were about, what was causing them. The beach scene screensaver from his vacation to St. John reminded him of her eyes, that Caribbean-ocean blue that was as much green as blue, the shades of almost-sunset mirrored the layered colors of her hair, all streaky with blondes and reds. And her smile was just as sweet as the fresh-off-the-tree pineapple he ate for breakfast there. After a half-sigh of resignation, he moved the mouse to bring up the screen, double-clicked the word processor, and began to let his mind run back over the last twenty-four hours. He got as far back as the bar before something odd struck him. While sitting at the end of the bar, talking shit with the old-timers and playing a game of video poker, he had heard a voice, a laugh, really, that had made him lose concentration. There weren’t that many people in the bar, just the regular dart throwers and a couple of groups of office-dwellers that came in to this bar on occasion because they rarely blared the music and it was a good place to have a conversation. It was from that end of the room that he caught snatches of a heated debate, some woman not wrongly telling off some guy, you could tell by looking at him that he was the office asshole, that his opinions were uneducated and outdated. He couldn’t see her, Willie the bartender was in his way, but he could tell by the reactions of the few he could see that she was doing a good job of giving him what for. He had always admired a woman that could and would speak her mind, so he leaned to the side to get a glimpse. She was just out of his line of sight, though, when it hit him. The voice sounded so familiar, made him stop in his tracks… Not again… He stood up, scanning the room quickly, even as Bob sitting next to him grumbled at him to finish his game, they were tied up for points. The last of the group was filing out the door as he rushed the length of the building only to catch a flash of bright hair getting into a cab and the remnants of a good-bye as the car door closed. He didn’t know if it had been her, Damn it all to hell, but it was too close to be merely coincidence. Back in his computer chair, he closed his eyes for a moment, rested his head on his joined hands, then leaned back, rolling his head from the front around to tilt back and then to the front again in order to stretch and relax the muscles. When he opened his eyes back to the screen, a flash of color brought his gaze to the door. And she’s wearing purple velvet, was the first thing that popped into his head. The smile on her face, the kind that says I’m bad and you love it, caused the next thought… I hope it’s a long night… She sashayed across the room, because it wasn’t just a walk, it was much, much more. She got right next to him in the chair, picked up his hand, ran it over her stomach so the texture of the velvet nightie tingled against his fingertips straight to his groin, brought that hand to her lips, took his index finger into her so-warm mouth and sucked like it was the best lollipop she’d ever had. Then, as his capacity for rational thought dissipated like smoke on the breeze, she said what he had known was true,
I didn’t get to say good night to you…
She turned the chair to face her, hiked up the nightie to the point where his imagination told him he caught a peek at what was underneath, but his head told him otherwise, and straddled him, rolling her hips up his lap in a way that he thought only belly dancers could move. She smelled so good, like a combination of light spring, warm vanilla, and spice, something hot on the tongue, but smooth going down. She tossed her hair back out of her face, off to the side, and leaned in, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips before they touched the inch of skin just under his ear lobe that made him absolutely crazy. She pressed against him, her nipples like pebbles under the velvet that kept catching on his shirt.
Let’s make you more comfortable, hmmm?
Her breath was hot in his ear, her voice pitched so low that he strained to hear it from just an inch away. Her hands came up between their bodies, starting at the top button and working down, his shirt peeling from his chest as if by its own volition. She eased back, slid her hands under the fabric, not quite touching his skin, moved the shirt back off his shoulders. He helped by moving first his right arm, then his left, until the skin of his naked back rippled from the chilled air before she pressed him back in to the fabric of the chair. She leaned back, as if to survey her handiwork,
You have to be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, her hands resumed their roaming over his exposed skin, leaving comet-trails of heat in their wake, or felt…
His eyes rolled closed in response to her voice. She was like every fantasy and wet dream he’d ever had come to life, so to speak. When her tongue laved across his nipple, he did the only thing he could… he gave himself over to absolute pleasure. He reached up to take hold of her waist, to take back a little control of the situation. She stopped him by sliding her hands along his arms to his wrists, circling there and pressing down,
Grab the arm rests and don’t let go, or this is over. God, that hot breath in his ear just reminded him of her hot breath somewhere else. She pulled back to look in his eyes, and it was obvious that she knew exactly what he was thinking about and didn’t mind at all. When she was sure his hands were well attached to their commanded posts, she leaned back in, barely far enough to skim his chest with her velvet one, and then she was gone. Standing in front of him, she propped one leg on the chair between his legs and stretched forward like a dancer, her hair and fingers trailing up, drawing his eyes further, further, rewarding him with a glimpse of her… oh, god, her hairless puss. That thought had a second to ram his brain before she moved back to recline on the arm of the couch. Propped up against the cushioned back, she pulled one leg up to expose all of her bald beauty to him.
Don’t let go, she admonished, as he was about to do exactly that. One of her long fingers wagged at him in agreement with her voice, while the other one slid up and down her swollen, slippery slit. That lucky hand got to spread open those red lips, lips begging for a kiss. His eyes, alone, feasted on the sight of her, dripping wet. The other hand was jealous of the fun being had , so it joined it, the one finger again, making soft little circles around her stiff clit, making her head fall back and her breathing change. She started moving a little faster, a little faster, her slick hand easing its fingers into that wet, wet hole, her back arching. It wasn’t long before her head snapped up, her eyes bright fucking green, staring into his…
Get over here and eat my pussy, baby, or I’m going to cum without you. Oh, sweet Jesus, thank you! His tongue burned as he took over the manipulation of her clit, two fingers sliding deep up her, and just like that, she came all over his face, so wet he could feel it dripping down his chin, the muscle spasms in her pussy drawing his hand further inside her than he thought possible. She relaxed to the point he had to take hold of her hips to keep her on the couch. He pressed the flat of his tongue against her clit one last time to see how she reacted, the spasms redoubling for one last push and her whole body giving over to one final shudder. Her eyes opened to meet his and he knew that she would give him anything he wanted. In this case, all he wanted was to bury himself in her great heat. Looking at her, prone like that, was too much. His pants took themselves off, his cock sprang free. He turned her so her feet hit the ground, her ass in the air, bent over the arm of the couch. One cheek in each hand, he opened her enough to slip in and rammed home. Even though he wanted to go a little slower, each thrust brought him to the edge of orgasm and back. He knew it wasn’t going to be long, no amount of baseball stats could change that, so he fucked her, fucked her deep and hard, her high-pitched grunts and squeals letting him know he wasn’t doing it wrong. She hit a note he had never heard in nature and the flood started again, his sac dripping now, and it was so over. He slammed home one last time, hit the grasping cervix, milking him and gave it all he had, filling that sweet pussy with boiling cum, not moving again until gravity forced him to lean over her, his arm snaking around her waist in a show of intimacy and necessary for the not-falling-over. A couple of seconds later, as his dick started to deflate, every centimeter it withdrew, her pussy spasmed and tried to draw him back into her. Those last few inches were the most exquisite hell he’d ever felt. Finally, he moved around her to sit on the couch, pulled her over onto his lap, rested his head on her shoulder. Her hand stroked the back of his head,
I knew it would be good, but not I-can’t-fucking-move-good…
Back at you, he smiled and kissed the top of her tit.
He woke up a little while later, stretched out on the couch, his chin a little dry and flaky, and a smile on his face you couldn’t knock off with a hammer. This chick was too-fucking-much. He was going to find her…
