defeated. I watched the way his ass moved in the black
priest pants and my pussy clenched at the chiseled submission and secret
promise.
* * * *
I called him the night rain was coming
through my windows and leaking onto the hardwood floors. I needed a repairman.
My cat sashayed over little puddles, fussy meows blocking out the dial tone as
I punched in numbers with my nail less fingers. He answered on the first ring,
prompt. I liked that, my nipples gave me away against my black turtleneck,
aching.
“Hi, girl from the party here. You're
coming to my house. Get a pencil, this is the address” I spouted off the
numbers and letters from memory listening to the cadence of his breathing
patterns shift over the line. He cleared his throat three times. I ran my hands
over my top until I met the slit of shirt to pants where exposed flesh
lingered. Shivering up my lower back, tingly, as my finger glided over my tight
stomach. Years of anger. He huffed a quiet okay. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he hung up. I wouldn't have expected different.
* * * *
When he met me at the door a lack of
umbrella was immediate. He had also walked. The plains of his chest couldn't
have gotten that soaked walking from a car I couldn't see parked out front.
Fresh, close meat. I invited him inside, the squelching of his Doc Martin's
scared my Siamese and she darted into the back bedroom. He squinted into the
candle light I had set up earlier and shook off his head like a wet dog.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Um, beer.”
His confidence was gone now and it
made me giddy. I walked into the tiny cottage kitchen and I could feel his eyes
on my ass: I wore a plaid skirt that matched the ticking on his clinging soaked
shirt. He was so tiny. Like a girl in the waist. It made me giggle. Which made
me trip over a potted plant at my feet, sprawling me on the lime linoleum. Way
to ruin the mood.
He careened towards me sideways
because the world was spinning from the bump on my head. His hands planted on
my shoulder blades, helping me up. Then fingers working at his t-shirt, prying
it off. I thought I was seeing things.
“We need to get you some ice.”
Ah, an explanation. A good one. He
bee-lined for my freezer and then shots of stinging cold were binding my horny
thoughts in place. A dot of water meandered from his shoulder to stomach and my
eyes followed before I tipped him over from his knees to sprawl on top of me. I
locked my arms around him and devoured his chapped lips. They tasted like
cherry chap-stick. That was it. My undoing. Makeshift ice pack went flying as I
dug my fingers into his crunchy hair and scalp, pulling upwards. It ripped a
yelp from his mouth, cranberry red from my lipstick. A shiver ran up my back as
I careened upward with his head in my hand, bowing his spine. He automatically
conformed to the position, assumed it. His head was down and arched from the
angle of my nails, his hands wrapped around his slim back, clasped together all
dainty. My pussy dripped and I growled at my new find.
“You're not new to this are you,
puppy?”
“No, mistress.”
I laughed and pulled him up from the
floor, dragging him by the hair towards my special place. The beers forgotten,
I had my drought sprawled out to drink within seconds. We would start light.
His pants were light, but that and the draft up my skirt made my mouth dry.
Wicked thoughts.
“Get up, on your knee's, puppy”
I knew I exuded cold calm as I fondled
the cane between my fingertips. Nothing was off but his shirt and we would have
to fix that.
“Strip”
He complied with a quickness I
admired. No chance to glance at each piece of flesh slowly now. He was exposed.
Thighs marred with bruises, ass in the air. His balls drew tight against him,
straining as I followed them to the line of his cock. A nice present from one
so skinny. And circumcised. A thin dribble of pre-cum already marked my violet
sheets. He would pay for that.
My stride grew bold. I whipped
priest pants and my pussy clenched at the chiseled submission and secret
promise.
* * * *
I called him the night rain was coming
through my windows and leaking onto the hardwood floors. I needed a repairman.
My cat sashayed over little puddles, fussy meows blocking out the dial tone as
I punched in numbers with my nail less fingers. He answered on the first ring,
prompt. I liked that, my nipples gave me away against my black turtleneck,
aching.
“Hi, girl from the party here. You're
coming to my house. Get a pencil, this is the address” I spouted off the
numbers and letters from memory listening to the cadence of his breathing
patterns shift over the line. He cleared his throat three times. I ran my hands
over my top until I met the slit of shirt to pants where exposed flesh
lingered. Shivering up my lower back, tingly, as my finger glided over my tight
stomach. Years of anger. He huffed a quiet okay. I breathed a sigh of relief.
Then he hung up. I wouldn't have expected different.
* * * *
When he met me at the door a lack of
umbrella was immediate. He had also walked. The plains of his chest couldn't
have gotten that soaked walking from a car I couldn't see parked out front.
Fresh, close meat. I invited him inside, the squelching of his Doc Martin's
scared my Siamese and she darted into the back bedroom. He squinted into the
candle light I had set up earlier and shook off his head like a wet dog.
“Want anything to drink?”
“Um, beer.”
His confidence was gone now and it
made me giddy. I walked into the tiny cottage kitchen and I could feel his eyes
on my ass: I wore a plaid skirt that matched the ticking on his clinging soaked
shirt. He was so tiny. Like a girl in the waist. It made me giggle. Which made
me trip over a potted plant at my feet, sprawling me on the lime linoleum. Way
to ruin the mood.
He careened towards me sideways
because the world was spinning from the bump on my head. His hands planted on
my shoulder blades, helping me up. Then fingers working at his t-shirt, prying
it off. I thought I was seeing things.
“We need to get you some ice.”
Ah, an explanation. A good one. He
bee-lined for my freezer and then shots of stinging cold were binding my horny
thoughts in place. A dot of water meandered from his shoulder to stomach and my
eyes followed before I tipped him over from his knees to sprawl on top of me. I
locked my arms around him and devoured his chapped lips. They tasted like
cherry chap-stick. That was it. My undoing. Makeshift ice pack went flying as I
dug my fingers into his crunchy hair and scalp, pulling upwards. It ripped a
yelp from his mouth, cranberry red from my lipstick. A shiver ran up my back as
I careened upward with his head in my hand, bowing his spine. He automatically
conformed to the position, assumed it. His head was down and arched from the
angle of my nails, his hands wrapped around his slim back, clasped together all
dainty. My pussy dripped and I growled at my new find.
“You're not new to this are you,
puppy?”
“No, mistress.”
I laughed and pulled him up from the
floor, dragging him by the hair towards my special place. The beers forgotten,
I had my drought sprawled out to drink within seconds. We would start light.
His pants were light, but that and the draft up my skirt made my mouth dry.
Wicked thoughts.
“Get up, on your knee's, puppy”
I knew I exuded cold calm as I fondled
the cane between my fingertips. Nothing was off but his shirt and we would have
to fix that.
“Strip”
He complied with a quickness I
admired. No chance to glance at each piece of flesh slowly now. He was exposed.
Thighs marred with bruises, ass in the air. His balls drew tight against him,
straining as I followed them to the line of his cock. A nice present from one
so skinny. And circumcised. A thin dribble of pre-cum already marked my violet
sheets. He would pay for that.
My stride grew bold. I whipped
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