Pt 2/2
*~*~*

Anyone that says that Dana Scully can't give as good as she gets 
hasn't had the chance to see the truth.  I guess that's the result 
when you put two rather strong-willed people together in a 
relationship. Two assertive people who aren't shy about wresting 
control from the other when they deem it necessary. Our partnership, 
first professionally and now personally has been built on many premises, 
trust, honesty, integrity and...a need to be independently strong.

The number of times that Scully's sat back and let me do the driving, 
so to speak, are too numerous to count, but it hasn't been out of any 
weakness on her part. It's all part of the ebb and flow of leadership 
in our working relationship; it's part of what makes us such an 
effective team.

And that works for us personally, as well.

For instance, I invited her for pie, she decides it's time for a 
little teasing. I get into the teasing; she wants to eat pie. Just 
because I'm getting a bit confused by the shifts doesn't mean I can't 
let her set the pace.  

I end up with some of the pie on my face. I can see where this is 
headed, but I'll be damned if she gets the last licks... I push her off 
my lap, setting her next to the pie, but before she has a chance to 
use that scheming little mind of hers, I grab some of the custard 
and toss it into her cleavage. The way the silky textured dessert 
glistens and slides beneath the low-cut neckline of her top and down 
the gentle slope of her breasts is a sight to see. She just looks 
down slowly and then back up at me. She's smirking and she can't 
believe I just did that.

"Truce, Mulder."

"So quickly, Scully?"

"I'd like to actually eat a slice of the pie before it's totally 
destroyed." She grabs a couple napkins and scoops the filling from
her chest. I've grabbed a few napkins myself rendering my face 
kiss-able once again.

She moves from her perch on the table to the floor across from the 
couch. I guess she figures that keeping her distance from me will 
end the game and get her serious piece of the pie. She's temporarily 
correct.

I cut us each a nice-sized slice and place her dish in front of her. 
Pushing the pie plate off to the side, I move to sit directly across 
from her, my legs crossed in front of me under the table. She picks 
up her fork, still watching me warily.

"Eat, Scully." My fork is poised over the plate.

"It sure looks tasty..." Her words say she wants to eat it, but she 
keeps glancing over at me. I touch my face wondering if I haven't 
cleaned it well enough, but it feels fine. I can't figure out what 
she's waiting for. If she's wondering what I'm up to, she should 
recall who started it. 

I wonder if maybe she thinks I have something other than dessert 
eating planned. Oh, Scully, you know me too well...but not well 
enough...

I dig in, making sure to lick my lips before I bring the piece to my 
mouth. I watch her eyes watching my mouth, smiling inwardly. I do 
know what turns her on.  I very slowly draw the custard and cream 
mixture into my mouth, letting my lips linger on the tines of the 
fork as I just as slowly slide them back out. I have some cream on 
the corner of my mouth and she's on her knees in a flash, leaning 
in toward me, telling me, 'let me get that for you, Mulder'.  And I 
do. I'd be a fool not to let her smudge the cream away with her 
thumb as her own tongue touches her bottom lip, followed by her teeth 
worrying it gently. She tries to draw her thumb back, but I take her 
wrist and looking her straight in the eye, I tongue the cream from 
her thumb. 'Oh', she says. 'Oh', indeed, Scully.

"Good, huh, Scully?"  She sits back down without flourish. We both 
think this pie eating is slow going.

She nods and finally samples the confection for herself. When she's 
occupied, I excuse myself, telling her I have to get something from 
the kitchen. She barely glances in my direction and continues to 
enjoy our treat.

I return with a saltshaker and she's clearly puzzled, but doesn't say 
anything at first.  Her double arched brows and nod toward the shaker
tell me she's curious. I say nothing, but hold up one finger as I 
bring the shaker to my plate. Now I've got her full attention. I set 
the shaker down as I cut myself another slice, a very big wedge.

Scully's finished hers, too, and I ask if she'd like more.  I smile 
grandly when she does that little nod thing that's almost as if her 
head hasn't taken the time to decide whether to say 'yes' or 'no', 
but her heart has decided for her. It's almost as if she doesn't 
even realize she's said yes. <You should let your heart speak for you
more often, partner of mine>.

I place an almost identically sized portion in front of her...and reach
for the saltshaker again. 

"What are you doing, Mulder?"  Point number one goes to me. I have her 
attention, but that could change depending on my next move.

"Oh, sorry, I hadn't told you. I had another motive in getting the 
pie today. I needed to test something out I'd heard on NPR awhile 
back."  I shake a bit of salt onto the whipped cream.

She puts her fork down and leans on her elbows, her upper body now 
much closer to my dish. Point number two.  More interest and a bit of
curiosity.

I place my hand over the cream and then draw it back quickly, barely 
mouthing 'hey' and then 'ow'.  Nothing exaggerated, trying to look 
surprised.  I glance up and find her staring at my hand and then 
looking at me skeptically.

I know I'm at a critical game point here.

"What're you up to, Mulder?"  She's pulled back from the table. Up 
on one knee, the other bent with her foot on the floor, her hands are 
on her hips and she's risen up to the fullest possible height given 
that she's not standing. But more than the body posture is the 
eyebrow raised so high it almost disappears into her hairline. I know
that brow well. I've got my work cut out for me.

"Nothing, Scully. Like I said, just something I heard. I wanted to 
test it out, so I admit that part of the reason I bought the pie was 
to do the test." I repeat the salting, hand over the topping, pull it
away. This time I add a little hand shaking and mutter, 'wow'.

"What exactly did you hear? You said this was on NPR?"  I reel her 
in just a bit more. NPR adds the slight touch of credibility she 
needs to ask me to continue. I really have to work for it, attempting
this with a doctor, a trained FBI Agent and a woman packing heat.

"Well, I didn't lend much credence to it, it sounded kind of 
preposterous, even to me." I laugh at myself, her brow lowers 
slightly, but she's holding her position. I continue. "It was 
something about a chemical reaction, the salt, something about the 
molecular structure of the whipped cream--but it had to be real 
whipped cream, not the fake stuff."

5-4-3-2-1

"Mulder, someone's pulled the wool over your eyes. There is nothing 
in sodium chloride that would cause any significant chemical 
reaction on the molecular level with some heavy cream, sugar and 
maybe some vanilla flavoring. You and I both know that."  That's 
my Scully, always ready to refute the facts...even if they are 
made up 'facts'.

"I know, Scully, I know."  I sound convincing. She knows I can be 
easily led into a new theory, but she also knows that I need 
evidence. Just not the kind of evidence she always needs. "You know 
me, though, I just had to see for myself."

"Alright, tell me about it, from the top."  Point number three.

"Here, you can check it out for yourself." I pull her plate just a 
bit closer to the middle of the table and slide to my left so I'm 
directly in front of where she'll sit. I'm banking on her moving 
toward the table and she doesn't disappoint me.

"I'm going to lightly salt the cream and then you can place your 
own hand over the pie and see if you feel the same heat I did. It 
wasn't much, really, but it was noticeable to me. Are you ready?" I 
try very hard to maintain my nonchalance and she seems to be buying 
it--almost. The only giveaway to her lack of total belief is the fact
that that eyebrow is still barely arched. Others might not notice, 
but I do. Especially when she glances over at me, checking out my 
sincerity.

I'm sincere. I'm sincere in wanting to play with her just a bit, 
enjoy the pie and then enjoy what I hope happens next.

I ask her if she wants to do the salting herself, but she shakes her 
head 'no' and waves her hand at me as she tells me to just do it. 
Your wish is my command, lover.

I place my hand over her pie first and quickly pull it away, 
repeating the nice little shaking touch I used before. I tell her to 
try it next before the reaction dies.

She picks her hand up off her lap and holds it high above the 
fluffiness. I explain that she's not going to feel it way up there. 
I wonder if she's on to me. And am quite surprised to find that 
she's not. She grabs the shaker, sprinkles a few crystals on top 
and sets it back down. The concentration on her face is priceless.

And so is her combined look of sheer surprise, shock and outrage as 
I dart my much larger hand out and slam her very petite one right 
into the pie.

She recovers quickly enough to yell my name and try to yank her 
hand out from underneath mine.  I'm laughing so hard that I almost 
topple what's left of the banana cream onto the floor. I'm not quite 
ready to let her hand go because I know what's coming next...
 
*;*;*;*;*

"Mulder, you are so dead!" I push away from the table, pulling my 
hand out from under his and he falls forward just enough to land 
his other arm in the remaining dessert. I'm standing now, laughing 
and about to head into the kitchen to wash off the mess.

I should've seen it coming, knew the very idea was outrageous, knew 
that I would have probably read about this wonderful discovery in 
one of the trade journals had there been any fact to it. But no, I 
let myself be sucked in by him. To think that I had no idea what he 
was up to. Chalk it up to my defenses being down. I thought he just 
invited me over to share something nice with him. I should've known... 
Very little is that easy with the man I love.

The pie plate is now on the floor next to the coffee table and the 
gooey mess is everywhere.  Before I can make it to the kitchen, he's 
on his feet and rounding the table, nearly slipping as the heel of 
his sneaker digs into the fallen treat. His forearm and other hand 
are completely covered in goop and I know I'm not going to make it 
to the sink. 

The man is out for blood as he wraps me in a bear hug from behind. 
His custardy hand lands squarely on my hip and his equally covered 
arm is wound around my waist, the substance slightly chilly against 
my bare skin. We're both laughing and squirming and sticky. 

Well, all except Mulder, Jr. who's quite awake and hard and pressing 
insistently against me...again. <Always ready, aren't we, Mulder?>

I attempt to wriggle free of his arms, but he has other ideas as his 
hand leaves my hip, moving up the front of my shirt...leaving a gloppy 
trail in its wake. "Mulder, ewww, get that off me!"

"No way, Scully. You play, you pay." His mouth is so close to my ear 
I can hear his panting. His arm still holding me firmly in place, 
his hand reaches my face. I repeat; the man is dead when I get my 
chance. He smears the bananas and cream mixture across my lips and 
then holds his hand over my mouth. I figure I never really did get to 
actually eat most of my serving, so I part my lips and lick some 
banana from his palm. It tastes slightly sweet and pie-like and 
slightly salty and Mulder-like. And heaven help me, but the feeling 
of his palm over my mouth and  his other hand under my shirt is 
turning me on.

And he moans into my ear. <You like that, do you, Mulder?> Although 
his palm is free of custard, I continue to lap at him and he pulls 
me back against his groin as he thrusts his hips into my rear. His 
arm leaves my waist, but only so his hand can make its way underneath
my top. I'm going to need a good bath...

I remember his earlier comment about me 'playing and paying' and 
methinks that the man is doing more than his fair share of playing 
and should therefore be paying a bit himself.

"You know, Mulder, I wasn't the one with that very unscientific 
little show of testosterone laden prank." It's a little difficult to 
get all that out with his hand still covering my mouth, but I 
quickly remedy that by grabbing at his hand with mine.  As I pull 
it away from my face, I'm moving, quickly turning out of his grasp.

He recovers fast from his brief surprise, but before he can say a 
word, I stand on my toes and kiss his lips, an overwhelming urge to 
taste more of him taking over. As his hands try to recapture me to 
him, I pull back just slightly and as I'm explaining to him about 
playing and paying, my gooey hand is under his tee, creating a 
wonderful design on the canvass of his abs and chest. He gasps and I 
pull his head down to mine, the strain in my calves about to give 
out, and kiss him deeply. He's bent over me like a bow, but doesn't 
seem to mind.

The slipperiness of the whipped topping allows my fingers to twist 
and twirl his nipples as he groans into my mouth.  It's getting hot 
enough in here to turn the pie filling to liquid state...

We can't stay in this position much longer. 

And I'm pulling away. "Where do you think you're going, Scully?" He's
decided that he likes the way his favorite dessert works as a 
lubricant, so he uses what's left on his hand to find my nipples and 
I sink from my toes onto my heels as his arm supports me.

"You're sticky Scully."  His tongue journeys along my face...forehead, 
nose, cheeks, lips and then he nips at my lips, his fingers 
never leaving my breast. I've got news for him; I'm not only 
'sticky', I'm also quite wet.

I back him toward his desk chair and we nearly lose our footing as 
he steps, once again, into the fallen pie. Luckily the chair is up 
against the desk so when he starts to slip...and takes me with him, he 
falls into the secured seat. We're both breathing pretty heavily and 
look rather interesting semi-covered in dessert. Mulder's favorite 
dessert I mentally amend.

He looks good enough to eat. But then again, he usually does.

*;*;*;*;*

This is like a rather X-rated version of the Three Stooges, and I do 
mean the *real* Stooges as opposed to those also known as my 
friends. I've nearly slipped and fallen on my ass twice in the last 
hour and managed to intersperse the near misses with some rather 
original uses for banana cream pie. It mixes rather nicely with 
Scully's body parts and she seems to think the same about mine.

She pushes me away from her as my teeth are nibbling at her lip and 
my fingers are teasing her nipples to hard points. I'm surprised at 
first, but realize that neither of us will last in the standing 
position much longer. In her bare feet, our height difference is 
much more pronounced and neither of us is young enough not to notice 
the strain on our backs.

As I very gracefully avoid hitting the floor, she manages to guide 
me to the chair. If I'm going down, she's coming with me.  I spin 
her around until she's sitting on my lap, her back against my 
chest. She's kicking, ineffectually I might add, her heels hitting 
my shins, and she's trying to release my arms from around her chest 
and waist.

"Mulder..." She starts to stammer and laugh, but her writhing is far 
from funny. At least not in the conventional sense of the word. She's 
got bits of banana in her hair and whatever was on our skin and 
clothes has dried. That much is pretty funny. But the fact that every 
time she moves her cute little backside, and rubs up against my 
once again very hard cock is much more stimulating than humorous. 
My hips respond to her writhing with some special movements of their 
own. As I've always predicted, and now know, our hips are made to 
fit quite nicely together.

"Yes, Scully?" I hold her to me and lap at her skin where her cotton 
sweater has slid off her shoulder. "You know what, you taste good." 
I sample some more skin and she leans her head to the side, taking 
a breather and allowing me to latch onto her and suckle her neck. 
She's gasping and moaning and kicking once again.

Then, she unexpectedly stills. Well, her kicking stops, but her 
breathing is anything but still. She turns her face toward mine and 
kisses my cheek.  "You taste good, too." She tells me as she licks, 
then kisses, my cheek again. I like this change and ease my death 
grip on her.

And that allows her to slide forward just a bit. It also allows two 
other things to happen. First of all, we have better access to each 
other's mouths and our kiss deepens. Second of all, she has better 
access to what's left of the pie on the floor and her toes wriggle 
in it, probably testing its distance from the chair. I piece this 
information together from evidence after the fact.  After the fact 
that while I'm busy kissing her, rather nicely, I think, she's 
turning toward me. And my hold on her is a little too slack.

She briefly breaks the kiss and pulls away from me. Just long enough 
to bend over and grab a nice handful of the pie. I figure this all 
out as she attempts to glob some of it into my hair and onto my 
face. She manages to leave a bit on my bangs and forehead, but I've 
got her arms and pin them in front of her. "Scully? Haven't you had 
enough?" I laugh into her hair and then blow into her ear. She 
shivers and so do I.

"Let go of me, Mulder." She's laughing too and her request sounds 
half-hearted, at least the way I'm hearing it. So, I take her gooey 
hand and place it under her sweater and then, with my hand over 
hers, move it all the way up to her bare chest. That smooth move 
brings a startled gasp and places her hips squarely against me. 
Mulder, Jr. is throbbing against her ass and lower back. He's happy, 
but he wants much more. I then move her hand down over her abs, her 
navel and under the drawstring that seems to have somehow come undone.

"Oh."  This is not the glib, yet intelligent Agent Scully speaking.

"Do you know what I'm going to do, Scully?"  I can just barely make 
out the look in her eyes as they widen and grow darker azure.

"Don't do it, Mulder."  I think her mouth is saying no, but her 
movements are saying, 'go for it', as she rocks against our hands 
now moving under the elastic of her panties.

Everything feels just a bit more than squishy as she hooks her feet 
around my calves giving us more access to her center. I pause, her 
hand underneath mine, cupping her mound and her head falls back onto 
my shoulder. Biting at her earlobe, I move my other hand to her hip, 
sliding the cotton checked pants down just a bit to give me more 
access.

"Don't do *what*?" Her hips a rhythm of their own as she allows me 
to lower her pants a bit more. I move our hands lower still until 
her fingers are parting her outer lips and she and I both moan. 

It really is rather hot despite the rain outside.

*;*;*;*;*
 
Mulder knows how to use his willingness to accept all sorts of 
theories for other creative purposes. This shouldn't surprise me 
given what we both managed to do with the ice cream, but I don't 
think I would have guessed I'd find myself in this position. Or as 
turned on as I am.

It's sweet torture. Almost like finding oneself between a rock and a 
very hot, hard place.  Mulder's hand over mine moving relentlessly 
back and forth over my opening, the joint of his thumb caressing my 
already over-excited bundle of nerves, his hand pushing my finger 
inside me and the feel of his rather sizeable erection as I thrust 
back into him. The slick, thick banana filling that's all over his 
hand and mine, and by association...now inside of me, is creating an 
interesting sensation.

I wrap my feet around his calves to try to gain some leverage and 
that also makes it just that much easier for him to touch me where 
I'm craving his touch.

I've forgotten his question, something about what he's going to do 
that I've told him not to do? I can't seem to think about what I 
might not want him to do. I think he's done it or doing it or...

For some strange reason, I do a body check and I feel a lot of things
right now. My toes covered in banana custard slipping and sliding 
against the tensing muscles in his calf. My thighs on top of his, 
the weight under me delicious and steady. My finger in a steady 
rhythm he's setting with his hand and...oh...oh...his thumb insistent 
against my very swollen center, my nerves firing sparks through me 
as I rock back into him over and over again. His other hand pushes 
my sweater up until he finds my breast again and he's doing this 
incredible thing I can only describe as twirling and pulling. My 
nipple is now zinging even more sparks through me.

"Schulleee..." His voice in my ear accompanied by his warm breath as he 
whispers sends me sailing into a blissfully high state never before 
produced while eating dessert. He continues to push my finger 
inside me in short bursts and his thumb is moving just off to the 
side of my clit, glancing it so lightly that the result belays the 
fleetingness of the touch.

I think I'm screaming or the rain's hitting the window awfully hard. 
I do know that that's the best goddamn banana cream pie I've ever 
had...or that's ever had me.

But I don't think Mulder's had as much fun as I have...
 
*;*;*;*;*

I can feel her body tensing against me and see her chest heaving and 
she looks so damn sexy I'm about to burst.  Her skin is hot and 
feverish under my hands and the constant motion of her hips is 
becoming quick and erratic. I love watching her and feeling her in 
wanton abandonment focused on nothing but losing total control over 
herself. It's intoxicating.

As my hand continues to pump her finger into her canal, my thumb 
toys with her swollen button, sliding to one side the way I know 
will bring her down just a bit and then I drag my thumb back across 
it feather light once or twice and she's singing and sailing. The 
feeling of her quaking body in my arms is bringing me close to 
the edge, as well.

She draws her own hand away, but I hold her, reveling in the subsiding 
tremors from her still warm and pulsing center, my other hand over 
her heart. She turns to kiss me and my tongue lazily parts her lips, 
neither of us having the energy to do more than taste and touch. Her 
lips beneath mine are lazy and languid as she starts to turn toward me.

I withdraw my hand from her pants and help her turn sideways in my 
lap, her body softening and relaxing against me. Her hand on my face 
feels...sticky and I chuckle into her mouth.

"Do my kisses amuse you, Mulder?" She draws back a few inches and I 
gaze into her impossibly blue eyes. My hands almost twine into her 
hair, but first I have to tongue her forehead where someone seems 
to have left some cream topping.

"Nope, but you do taste very good, Scully."  I try to divert her 
attention by tasting her kisses again and again. She diverts me when 
her hand lands in my lap squarely on Mulder, Jr. who desperately 
wants some action.  ScullyAction...

She purrs into my mouth, 'how does *that* feel?', and I attempt to 
answer her, but it comes out sounding like a cross between her 
name and a low growl. Translated, it means, 'ohmygod, that feels 
incredible you unbelievable woman'.  She's gotten very good at 
interpreting my ramblings and mutterings over the years. She knows 
that my response means that I want more, so she slips her hand 
inside my shorts and just barely touches the tip of my straining 
erection. I nearly buck her off my lap.

Her fingers just grazing and teasing, she turns our slow, languid 
kiss into a soul penetrating, hoover experience and now I'm about to 
either melt or explode. Just as I'm about to lose all ability to 
breathe, she pulls away and her hand grasps me once before she takes 
it away. Her finger trailing over me, she slides bonelessly to the 
floor between my legs.

"You've been very patient, Mulder." She tells me as her hands caress 
my calves and her palms massage my knees. I sit up and take more 
notice when they slip underneath the legs of my running shorts. Her 
forearms are resting on my thighs as her fingers creep higher and 
higher. My legs spread of their own volition as I slide forward in 
the chair. I think Mulder, Jr. wants me to help her get closer; he's 
standing at attention, pointing the way, trying to guide her. But I 
think Scully knows just where she's going without any additional help.

"I'm always patient, Scully." My voice rises on her name as she 
reaches the apex of my thighs, lightly cupping my sac. I'm now 
gripping the chair seat so tightly that I'm sure my knuckles are 
white.

"Not so...not so." She's negating something, but I forget what it is 
as she tap dances the fingers of her other hand along my inner thigh. 
"Sometimes, you're very, very impatient, skipping ahead to the end 
before taking time along the way, Mulder." If she takes anymore time 
along the way, she's going to find herself on her back, clothes 
ripped from her body being fucked within an inch of her life.

"Ahhhh..." I hope that I've told her just how good what she's doing 
feels and how much more I want her to do. Now. She seems to know 
because her hands leave my shorts and she kneels a lot closer to my 
body, her hands on my abdomen and her mouth on my navel. She's 
alternately sucking and tonguing it as I thrust against her chest. 
 
*;*;*;*;*

In a voice I recognize as Mulder's 'now, Scully' voice, he implores 
me. He doesn't have to be specific; I can recognize the signs. His 
breathing sounds more like panting and his skin is flushes. His 
gorgeous hazel eyes are the color of dark chocolate velvet as he 
tries to keep them open and his erection is hard as molten steel. 
Oh, and I almost forgot his hands in my hair, massaging my scalp, 
trying hard not to pull my face to his groin. The hands in the hair 
is a little tricky today, though.  He has to pick and choose where 
his fingers go since he seems to have forgotten about the banana 
cream pie he put there not so long ago...

"Lift your hips, G-Man." He opens his eyes to smile down at me and 
asks me if I'll say that to him at work some time. I lift my brow 
and he has his answer. Nonetheless, he accommodates me and I slide 
his basketball running shorts down...and find nothing underneath them 
except lots of hot, erect Mulder Skin. Mmmm.

"Like what you see, G-Woman?" His smile is smoldering and sends warm 
shivers down my spine and right into my core. I tell him, 'I like, 
a lot', and his smile turns lustful.

"You know, Mulder, I could say that this," I grasp him at the base, 
"is my favorite dessert." He sighs.

As I push his thighs farther apart, I place one hand on his abdomen 
and watch as his muscles tighten under me. "It has all the 
components." I tease the tip with my thumb and forefinger and lean 
in quickly to flick the drop of pre-cum with the tip of my tongue. 

"Bittersweet." My hand starts to slide up and down his shaft and his 
head rolls back, his body shuddering. 

"Easy to eat."  I lean forward and run my tongue just under the ridge, 
stopping at the sensitive underside to flutter my tongue. 

"Very satisfying." I tongue the entire length of the underside. 

"And best of all. Mulder? Are you listening to me?" I look up at him, 
my question a bare whisper. I think he's nodding, but it could be an 
involuntary reaction to my other hand which hasn't stopped moving. I 
decide not to press the issue. Instead, I press my palm against his 
hip and take him into my mouth.

He groans. I'm sure he's agreeing that he's my favorite dessert, but 
to make sure he's a true believer, I take as much of him into my mouth 
as I can, running my tongue around and around. He slides back into 
the chair and reaches for my hair. 'Good luck' I think. But luck 
seems to have nothing to do with it.

My hand moves from his hip so I can gently hold and squeeze his sac 
as my index finger probes his perineum. I hear him say, 'gack' and 
inhale sharply. It's a good thing he replaced his old wood desk 
chair with one of those upholstered models or else he'd have slid 
off on his beautiful ass long ago.

He's thrusting into my face as his hands hold me gently to him. 
He's trying to keep the pace slow, but I can tell he wants more. I'm 
so wet, again, and I'm throbbing along with his bucking hips. I 
reach one hand to grip his hip as I suck him, hard.

And that's when I find that he's pushed my head back and pulled his 
glistening wet cock from my mouth. He draws me to him, his hands 
framing my face, and pins me with his mouth. His kiss is bruising and 
demanding and matches my frantic need perfectly. It often amazes me 
just how in tune with each other we are. Any further thoughtful 
insights are banished in favor of pure sensory overload.

In a blinding fury, my sweater is over my head and he bends forward 
to take my nipple in his mouth. His long, flexible limbs maneuver 
us quickly and efficiently, narrowly missing what's left of the pie, 
and I find my self on my back beneath him. We both grapple at my 
pants. He wins this round, but I'm not keeping score. I like it when 
he wins this kind of game.

He takes all of about ten seconds to position himself and I lift my 
hips to meet him. Did I say just how beautiful he is when he's 
horny and randy and lustfully needy? 

I reach for him, but he's already pushing himself into me in one, 
long, slow glide. I grab and paw at his ass and dig my heels into 
his hips, drawing him in as deeply as I can.

I think that there can't possibly be any better feeling than to be 
joined body, mind and soul, to the man I love and then he goes and 
makes a liar out of me. There is something better. His hands on 
either side of my face, his eyes seeking mine as he glides and grinds 
and thrusts into me over and over until there's nothing but us and 
the exquisite feeling sending bright white lights behind my eyes.  
Until we follow each other over the top, flying off into space.

Why do I wonder who's going to clean up the pie...

*;*;*;*;*  Finis