Spaghettini Salad ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ I stand at the kitchen counter with my back to you. We've finished eating dinner hours ago, and I've been chopping vegetables for tomorrow night's salad. I like it nice and cold, so I like to make it ahead, and chill it overnight. You walk up behind me, and your big warm hands slide around my waist, and under the edge of my top. Your fingers press firmly across my tummy, meeting just over my belly button, as you bend to give my neck an open mouthed kiss, and slowly nibble up my neck. I've scooped up all the veggies, deposited them on top of the chilled, spaghettini, and I'm pouring on the cold Italian salad dressing. "Mmmmm, keep that up and I'll never get this finished," I whisper in your ear, as I lean my head back against your shoulder, and give your earlobe a quick nibble. I begin to slowly stir the salad with a big fork. The noodles slip and slide and all the tiny bits of onion, green pepper and tomato fall down over the sides, landing in the bottom of the bowl. I raise my head again, and continue with my work, but my efforts now seem fruitless. You chuckle and ask me why I'm using a fork, instead of a big spoon that will lift the veggies from the bottom and distribute them evenly into the noodles. I try to explain that I tried a spoon, but the noodles are next to impossible to move in the slippery oil without something to grab them, and hold them while I mix them up. You reach into the drawer, grabbing a big spoon and soon discover that the long stringy, oil slick noodles defy scooping up. We both laugh at your efforts, then you dig your hand deep into the bowl and begin to mix the whole mess. I chuckle softly and let you continue, because it seems to be working. "That'll do it," I say laughing. I reach into the bowl, snatching a cluster of noodles and tomato bits between my fingertips, raising them high above your head so you can catch the tail end on the tip of your tongue. Then I slowly lower it in a spiral motion, coiling it onto the surface of your tongue. When it lies in a small heap there, you draw it into your mouth and begin to chew. "Yummmm," you say with a surprised grin on your face, "This is really good!" I wait for you to swallow your mouthful, and slide my fingers into your mouth, one by one, for you to lick and suck the oily mixture off. I lie back against your shoulder again, closing my eyes and letting myself experience the wet heat of your tongue along the surface of my fingers. "Mmmmm, that feels good," I murmer. "Mmmm, that tastes good," you counter. I smile in answer and your mouth lowers over mine. You reach into the bowl taking the end of a stray noodle, and raising your mouth from mine, trail it across my lips. The oil clinging to the end gathers at the corner of my mouth, and a big droplet forms, sliding down towards my chin. Your tongue quickly laps it up, and continues along my lipline to the far corner, slurping the noodle in as you go. I chuckle slightly at the tickling sensation this creates, and you join me a few seconds later. "Hmmm, creative way to eat a salad," I mumble, as your tongue traces the line once more, back in the direction from which it came. "You think that's creative," you say with mounting enthusiasm, "How about this?" Scooping a modest handful up, you bring it over my cleavage and let the noodles slip over the edge of your palm, plopping a few at a time, down the front of my low cut top, then you lower your hand to rub the greasy mess in. I let my head fall back with a thump and begin to giggle. The cold noodles feel good against the top of my breasts and I feel the oil dribble down between them. You turn me to face you now, and bend to grab the stray noodles clinging to my skin using your tongue and teeth. It feels so good. The contrast of cold pasta and warm tongue sends shivers up my spine, and my body arches against yours. I reach back, grabbing a large handful without you realizing it and quickly grab your belt, giving it a little tug, and dumping the cold, slippery salad down the front of your shorts. You let out a loud yelp and my hands immediately begin to rub you through the material there. "What are you doing?" you laugh, as you squirm under my hands. "Just warming my pasta," I grin, "That's my favourite way to eat it," I say, looking up into your eyes. You raise your eyebrows, giving me a little wink. I hold your gaze as I slowly lower myself to my knees in front of you, pulling your fly down as I go. Your eyes seem to get bigger and bigger as you anticipate what I might be about to do. I feel your member poking outward at me, begging for my attention, and I open your pants after releasing the button and belt. Spaghettini hangs from your shaft, like tinsel on a Christmas tree, and I smile and look forward to the feast I'm about to enjoy. My tongue reaches out and wraps around the end of one of the long noodles, and I slowly suck it into my mouth. The slippery spagettini slides across your erect member and disappears between my moist lips. You moan at the sight, wishing it was you being sucked into my mouth instead. Shivers tingle up and down your spine as I do it again and again, and you hear the slurping, smacking, sucking noises, so close to your anxious flesh. You lean back against the side counter, and close your eyes, trying to imagine what my next move will be. I take you by surprise and wrap my greasy lips around your member, sucking you deep into my warm mouth, sliding my tongue around you over and over. You let a deep growling moan escape your lips, and push your hips towards me. My hands cup your tensing cheeks and pull you in as far as I can. I moan loud and long, sending vibrations up into your groin, already alive with delightful sensations. Your body quivers, and I feel you growing tenser with each thrust. I squeeze you gently with my tongue, moaning over and over, creating a wave-like effect. Your knees grow weak, as you hold on to the counter, and let the feelings engulf you until your body allows you to release. I feel your cheeks tense hard, and your whole body begins to spasm as I feel your warm fluids against the back of my throat. I swallow all you have to offer, and when you begin to relax again I let you slowly slide off my tongue. I return to my feet, kissing your chest as I open the buttons on your shirt. My hands caress you, and I find your hardened nipples one by one, giving each a little attention. You've been working on my buttons too, although it isn't easy with the oil all over your hands. You peel my clingy top away from my breasts and off my shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. Then you reach around and unhook my lacey bra and let it follow suite. Your hands feel wonderful slipping across my breasts, rubbing the oil into my skin. You reach down from time to time with your eager tongue, and lick the dressing that clings to my skin. My breasts are covered with goosebumps as my mind tries to decipher this spontaneous sensual outburst of yours. I've known you to be playful at times, but never quite like this. You pull me into your arms, my pelvis against yours, warm through my remaining clothing. I feel your hard shaft against me, and reach down to unfasten my jeans and slide my panties downward, allowing it contact with my warm body. Your hands seek out the warmth within, and it's not long before your fingers find my moist hot center. I gasp at the swiftness of your oil slick digits, and my back curls in response. I let out a low, long moan almost like a soft purring, and you work my flesh with an expertise almost unfamiliar to me. There's a fire within you tonight I've never seen. I feel an urgency and it ignites my passion further bringing the flame to a white hot glow. You push my jeans down over my hips with your unoccupied hand, and bend down on one knee to reach down and pull them off one leg at a time, my panties following close behind. I feel your warm breath tickle across my naked mound, and feel your tongue sneak a sample taste. My hands begin to gently play with your hair as my hips begin to move in rhythm against your face. I lean the small of my back against the counter, as you grasp my firm derierre and plunge your tongue deeper, spreading my legs a little wider with your hungry mouth. You moan, and growl with passion unleashed, breathing in my musky scent. Your passion seems to feed on itself, and I quickly reach a tactile summit. I feel your tongue rubbing against my most sensitive spots, driving me into a sexual frenzy. My knees grow weak over and over until I think I might collapse altogether. Your tongue flicks harder and harder over my aroused flesh, and I soon feel the warmth begin to spread from my center, upward and outward to all my extremities, bathing me in a kind of warm glowing awareness. I feel my pelvic muscles contract, and expand with intense pleasure around your still active tongue. You moan at the sweet taste of my nectar as it moistens your face and dribbles down your chin, and you press me closer still, not wanting to waste one precious drop. My body is exhausted, and I cling to the counter for support. You lower me to the floor then, and caress my breasts gently with your open hand. When my breathing returns to a normal pace you begin to play with my nipple, using your tongue. It doesn't take long before I am turned on once again. You kiss up and down my body, and I pull you to me with my hands. Your knees straddle me, and I coax you upward, over my body until your hips are over my ribcage. Your hard member slides between my ample breasts in a rhythmic rocking motion. I feel you grow slick and slippery, and I long to taste you. I reach out with my tongue to touch your tip, as you slide through and you slow your pace, wanting more contact. I purse my lips and let your head slide between them, and into the moist heat of my hungry mouth. "Mmmmmm, you feel so smooth on my tongue. Like liquid velvet." You become more and more urgent, raising yourself up, driving your slick firmness deep into my throat. I yield to you, sucking gently, then firmer in rhythm with your body. I feel you throbbing and pulsing against my hot tongue, longing for release. I long for it too. You continue until I feel your cheeks go rigid, and then I intensify my grasp on you, pulling you into a higher orgasmic state. You howl out loud, like a wounded animal, and let the sensations engulf you. I feel your leg muscles quiver, and watch your face as your creamy, liquid lust shoots against the back of my palate, and causes me to swallow in great gulps. You have a look of peaceful bliss on your face, and I watch as your face relaxes into a calm restful state, a tiny smile touching the corners of your mouth, as you roll onto the tile floor beside me. I rise quickly, rubbing my hands in the oily salad, and knead your overworked muscles with my expert fingers. I touch even the deepest chords, and soothe the ache within. You smile wider now, and enjoy the free massage. My hands work quickly, darting off on some playful detour here and there, as I work my way up and down your body. My hands are warm and delicious against your flesh. Touching your body quickly arouses you, and each of my senses is coaxed into readiness. I smell your musky scent beneath my fingers. I hear your low moans with each caressing movement. I see your arousal and marvel at the pink, erect reminder of your manhood. I feel my nerve endings react to the sights, sounds, smells and touch of you. I can't seem to get enough, and I surround your more than willing penis with my red painted nails, and begin gently stroking up and down it's length, daring it to grow thicker and more rigid. Tiny beads form on the smooth head, and I sample it with the tip of my tongue. Your body quivers at the sight and touch and I smile at you, and give you a sexy wink. Your head is propped up on a sack of potatoes beside the cupboard, so you have a good clear view. I continue to play with your glistening shaft, licking it gently each time it dribbles, until I think you might be close to orgasm, then I back off and kiss your chest or your thighs until I feel you are under control again. After teasing you for a long time I straddle your pelvis, and slowly lower myself onto your shaft as you watch. You moan with pleasure at the sight and feel, as my body squeezes around your thick shaft and it disappears inside. You lift your knees to drive yourself deeper, thrusting upward each time I rock on you. It turns you on even more to watch my body swaying and rocking above you, and to watch the pleasure on my face. I'm lost in the motion. I ride you fiercely as your hands grope to find a firm hold and find none. Everything is motion, fluid and ever changing. We become lost in it until the final wave explodes our sea of passion into a million tiny puddles, and we lay spent again for the moment. We lie side by side, spoons style, breathing in a sort of jagged rhythm, trying to pace each other back to something in a normal range. I feel the dewy sweat of our repeated copulation clinging to your body, and brushing against mine. My senses are heightened now. Like a heat seeking missile I feel you rise to the occassion yet again, and smile secretly to myself. My body hungers to feel you inside me. I can't get enough. As if in an alcoholic stupor, I seek out that one more drink, but it isn't a drink I lust after. You sense my urgent lust, and draw me quickly to my knees, my face close to the tile. My knees are together making a tight entrance for your slick member. You linger at my thighs, rubbing yourself gently against me, arousing my already active nerve endings, and then slowly slip between my soft lips. I moan gently as you enter, swaying my hips back and forth to the music in the background. Slow and sensual and deep is how I want it, and you seem to read my thoughts, being extra careful to follow my body movements and the music. When the music reaches a peak, you thrust deeper into me with each crescendo. I rock back on you from time to time to meet your thrusts. The music begins to build, and we both step up our motion, until we again get lost in the passion, and we both explode in orgasmic ecstasy, and then collapse on the floor again. Your body covers mine, skin against skin, warm where it touches, and cool where it doesn't. It's hard to believe we've made love to each other so many times, and in so many ways and never got near a bed. I let you catch your breath, and then shimmy out from under you. I stand and take your hand, rising you up by shear will, because I'm certainly not strong enough to lift you. You back me against the counter, and your mouth comes down on mine with great force. Your passion is almost overwhelming. It takes my breath away for a moment, and I find I'm light-headed. When you finally release me, I bury my nose in your chest, and take in great deep breathes of you and of whatever oxygen might be clinging to the air around you. The dizziness subsides, and I pull you towards the bathroom. I reach into the tub and turn on the water faucets one by one, then turn to open a drawer, and pull out a box of matches, striking one on the side of the box, and touching it to the wicks of several candles. I close the door and turn to you, reaching behind my head to dowse the light, and let the flickering candlelight engulf us. Your face softens immediately, and I think what a handsome creature you really are, among all that tousled hair. I see the love in your eyes, and remember who and where I am with great clarity. We forgot for a little time, in the confines of our kitchen, but now reality reminds us as we sink slowly into the warm water of the tub, and wash the greasy slick of the pasta salad from our bodies. There will be other nights. Other wild, passionate interludes, but for now, reality is nice. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Written by Laura Dee January 2000 Copyright � in Canada Return Home 
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