By Katherine English
You’re coming home for lunch today.
It might be because of the long hours you put in
yesterday at your bosses black tie benefit, or the way your new secretary seems
to bring out the animal in you…or it might be because I traded your ham and
cheese on pumpernickel for a pair of my scantiest panties when I packed your
lunch.
Who knows?
But you’re coming home, and I’m ready for you. I’ve bathed every inch of my body in hot,
soapy water, then scrubbed my skin with a stiff brush
until it glows with a pearly pink sheen.
No scent. I want you to smell
only me today. They say that half of the
enjoyment in a meal is in the aroma.
Then, after buffing with a thick, white towel, I
donned that frilly, French maid’s apron…and nothing else. You know the one…it was given as a joke on
our first anniversary. Bet you won’t be
laughing at it today. On the other hand,
you may not stop smiling for a week.
Then, as a last minute afterthought, I affixed your black
bow tie about my bare throat.
Perfect. Just
the right touch of formality and submission. A sensuous mix of right,
and-oh-so-wrong.
I step now before the mirror and take my measure,
astounded at what I see before me. No
housewife here, not anymore. She’s taken
her little PTA butt and flown to higher ground.
What I see in my glass is the reflection of a seductress, a wanton woman
for whom there are no limits, no safe havens.
I shake my long hair loose and watch as it flows in
auburn profusion down the length of my back.
My nipples struggle to peek that last half inch above the bib of my
apron, but don’t quite make it, and the southern edge
of my attire hints at a dark crevasse that could only be one thing.
I’m ready.
Silently, I slip down to the kitchen, intending to
listen for your car in the driveway. I
can always hear when you arrive…so why did I miss it today? Instead, I feel your presence long before I
hear a sound…sense you before I see the muted flick of your trench coat in the
doorway. I close my eyes, a coiling,
liquid hunger building even now between my thighs.
You’re here. My
body tenses and I hear you draw near…closer…closer…an eternity. Finally, as my composure begins to shatter, I
feel the smooth fabric of your suit pressing hard against my naked
buttocks…your hands circling beneath my flimsy garment.
You speak not a word, but at once your breath assails
my neck, your teeth grazing my flesh. I
gasp as a shiver courses through me.
This isn’t you…this isn’t me. Who
are these people who’ve taken over our well- composed lives?
With slow deliberation, you turn me towards you,
lifting me onto the kitchen counter, curling my fingers into the handles of the
overhead cabinets as though chaining me helplessly before your gaze. The look in your eyes is something wild,
feral, and it strikes a cord between my thighs.
You tug me forward until my dripping sex lays
vulnerable along the very edge of my perch.
I feel your hand exploring my moist recesses, probing my readiness…one
finger…two. I gasp and my grip
tightens. Three fingers, so full…four,
and finally as my body screams silently for release…the last.
Your left hand unties the bib of my apron, and my
hardened nipples are free at last, pebbled and eagerly pressing against your chest. Then, in what seems to be a single, fluid
motion, you grasp one between your teeth as you thrust your hand deep into my
body.
My startled cry fills the room. I feel your fist curling against my g-spot
(is that what they call it?), and I moan…and then it begins to move. Your hand pumps
repeatedly…in and out…wetting the cuff of your expensive shirt, wetting the
counter with the juice of a thousand flowing fantasies.
A scream (mine?), and my
knuckles whiten against their shackles.
Shamelessly, I rut against you, needing you…devouring you with my
body…and then you pull away, licking my churned offering from your fingertips.
I hang limp and senseless for a moment, steadying
myself, finding my strength once again… then slip fluidly to my knees on the floor
between your gabardined thighs. Slowly I calm the trembling of my fingers as
I release the buttons of your shirt and strip it from your body. Your eyes are intense, hungry, and I reach
for your belt buckle, dispatching it with a boldness I never thought I
had. Slowly, I slide the zipper
downward, for your bulging manhood now demands to be released with an urgency
that requires a careful hand.
Your sex springs forward, brushing my cheek in its mad
rush to consummate. I prickle,
gooseflesh rising along my naked body. I
have plans for you, my Darling…forbidden plans.
Our black tie affair has just begun.
Fist clenched in my hair, you thrust your hips in my
direction and I lick eagerly, lapping at the tiny spurts that even now escape
from the hungry mouth of your glistening warrior. I caress the rounded orbs beneath, rolling
and milking them between my fingers until your eyes close and I hear your sighs
retreat behind a deep, primal growl.
Then I rise, and taking your hand I lead you into the
formal dining room, dominated even now by the heavy. mahogany
table that I love so much. I remove the
chair at the head, leaving you standing there while I circle toward the
opposite side.
I pause. Are
you watching? Could you possibly do
anything else? Then, slowly I drop my
apron to the floor and turn, standing with my back toward you, and raise myself
until I’m sitting atop its polished surface.
I lay back, nudging closer and closer to your hard, eager body until I
am lying at right angles before you, my head dangling from the very edge in an
inverted position between your thighs, my warm breath wafting around your
pulsating sex. My eyes strain to adjust
as the world spins in upside-down confusion.
You moan in appreciation. My submission is total, your control
consummate. No holds barred…no
limitations…and so we feast.
I feel your left hand capturing the back of my neck,
and you press forward, your right thumb momentarily hooking between my lips,
opening my mouth to accept your offering.
You advance until you penetrate the wet circle of my
lips…savoring the warm expanse behind my teeth.
The angry, purple head of your tool throbs demandingly against my
tongue, filling my mouth with its silken torture. Your free hand caresses my throat below the knotted
fabric of your tie, my collar, stroking as one would a favorite pet… and then
you lunge.
Your hardened flesh slips past my barriers, down into
the long, straight column of my throat, and I try to gasp. You pause but for an instant, then groan…a primal
prayer for control …then thrust again.
I can feel the rise and fall of your hand as it rests
against my slender passageway. You fill
me…you fill me, over and over. You
fingers caress my throat and I swallow in reflex, my flesh closing about you in
a wet, pulsating suction that urges you onward.
You smile, a fierce, hungry look that defines what we’re doing…what
we’re feeling, and advance once more.
Again I feel your fingers stroke the vulnerable
expanse of my throat. You seem to enjoy
the feel of your member surging and subsiding, swelling the narrow passage
which it travels…laying claim to my body and mind in a way that I’ve never
known.
You are close now…so close, and my hot moans fill the
space between your thighs. Your
unencumbered hand grasps my right breast, tweaking the nipple until I cry out
against the invader that fills my throat.
I gush then…long flowing streams against the mahogany
surface. Will this table ever be the
same again? Will I care?
You reach between my quivering thighs and run your
fingers through the flow, anointing my nipples with its liquid opulence. Then, eyes aglow, you guide my right hand
deep between my nether lips and pantomime briefly an intimacy I’ve never shared
with anyone.
I blush. A deep
crimson flush rises from the tips of my toes and finds its way along my bulging
neckline to capture my glistening eyes.
Do you want me to…?
You do!
We are lost in a place with no rules…no limits…and my
directions are clear. I can do nothing
but obey. Intently, you watch as my hand
slides maddeningly between the lips of my foamimg
core, my body writhing shamelessly before you.
Your thrusts become more urgent, more demanding… your eyes like hard
diamonds set in a sea of lost innocence.
My abandonment intensifies and my rising cries consume
you, vibrating against your trembling tool.
I’m wet, so wet, grinding my slippery buttocks into a swirling pool of
my own lust and longing…hungering flesh and hot desire.
I can taste you
now...so close. Already your early
offerings slide wetly down my throat…heralding the
deluge to come. My body is shaking, my
hand quivering at its task. Your eyes
are aglow, and as I feel myself fall over the edge of the universe I hear you
moan my name.
Then I am drowned in a river of heated profusion…
buried in a seemingly never-ending flood of thick, salty nectar, seasoned by my
own ejaculate cries of unrestrained passion.
The hot, slippery liquid slithers satisfyingly down my throat, filling
me…filling the hollows of my body and soul with lustful satisfaction.
You rut once more, shuddering involuntarily, then
slump against me, your face flushed and sated.
Gasping, you withdraw, kissing me gently, your tongue
licking at the errant drops that have escaped my lips.
You then climb atop the table and lay beside my moist
and trembling body, drawing me against you…your breath warm and ragged against
my breast.
Once more you wet your hand between my thighs, then begin to trace the crease between my buttocks. Your fingers begin to probe…deeper…deeper
until they find their mark…that tight, virgin portal hidden between my
glistening cheeks. I bury my face
against your chest, eyes widening as you begin to thrust. Your digits, thick and strong, invade my body
and I writhe against you, impaled on a stake of living tissue.
You smile. Then
removing my tie you close your lips over the throbbing pulse at the base of my
throat. Your fingers retract once more, and you hold me closely, lustful
fantasies flooding your eyes.
Another time…another time…
“What are you doing tomorrow for lunch?” you ask with
a grin.