I put the baby to bed. I read her a story about a cat and a mouse, then close her bedroom door and go downstairs. In the dining room, the table has been set with exquisite care; a meticulous scenario for by the book romance: a creamy linen table cloth, our best china and polished cutlery, tea lights placed in little groups around the walls to create pools of shadow, silk damask curtains screen the tedium of a February evening.
My husband is in the kitchen. He keeps one eye on a dish of cannelloni browning in the oven, whilst pouring two glasses of wine from a bottle of red, and decanting shiny black olives into a miniscule but trendy, finger bowl. My husband is a good looking man. He is lean and long, with broad shoulders and pale skin. He looks up at me and smiles. Its a knowing smile, like warm chocolate sauce.
I am wet with anticipation. Earlier at work, he told me he’d made plans; tonight we would eat out at home, tonight he would lay me out on the dining table and eat me for desert. Later, after everyone had gone he fucked me hard on the desk. We came hard, panting and shouting (well I was shrieking), and I wondered if dinner would be saved for a later occasion, but then on the way home we stopped at the supermarket…
He pushes one wine glass towards me. I take a sip and feel the heat slide down my body and melt into my pussy. I take a second sip and move around the counter towards him. I slip my arms around his neck and beg for a kiss. His lips are soft, but deliberate. His tongue invades my mouth tasting the wine. His teeth rasp my lips, pushing against me, while his hands in my hair hold me firm. I give way to him, tangling my tongue around his and sucking on the fullness of his lower lip. I crush his hips to mine. There isn’t a breath of a gap between us.
The oven dings and after moment, he pulls back and pops and olive into my mouth. The taste is a flood of salty, stinging flavour, so overwhelming in contrast to his kiss that I feel dizzy for a moment. He grins at me and turns to switch the cooker off. He gets the plates and so I take the bowl of olives and my wine glass to the table and sit down. Dinner is served with a flourish and the mastery of patience, the heat between my legs concedes to the hunger in my stomach.
We eat. Conversation is light, his gaze heavy. Its been years since he poured me that first glass of wine and kissed me till I came just from the thrill of him. It was a lifetime ago, yet sometimes our relationship still feels fragile, like a vase poised on a high shelf in a sudden storm. I love the way he asserts control, I wonder how much of myself I’ve given away.
The cannelloni is delicious.
“Dessert?” he asks.
He rises from his seat and clears the plates. I sit impatient. He returns and pulls me up from my seat. He kisses me deeply and moves me around until my ass hits the edge of the table. His hands knead my cheeks then he lifts me up and braces me against the edge. I wrap my legs around him and he lays me down. The tablecloth is still smooth and clean. It smells of the peach laundry conditioner I buy because its cheaper and goes twice as far as the meadow fresh one. I run my hands over the surface and find the subtle ribs of the linen twill pleasingly stimulating under my fingertips. He watches a moment, bemused, then lifts my stockinged leg from around his waist.
He runs his finger along the sole of my foot and presses hard into my heel because he knows that goes straight to my cunt. I murmur my pleasure and watch him intently. He watches me back and draws his finger down the back of my leg. He stops to tickle the back of my knee and I moan because I know that he likes it. Then I moan some more because I like it. He sucks on my toes and delivers firm caresses to my calf, wrapping his whole hand around my muscle and squeezing me hard. I stretch out my leg to ask him for more please, and he replies by reaching back to his waist and bestowing the same treatment on my other limb instead.
My pussy aches to have him inside me. My hips are shifting on the table cloth, urging me towards him. He returns my legs to his waist and brushes his hands down my inside thighs, his thumb taking the high line connected to my clit. I cry out. I can see his cock straining against his jeans. His breath comes a little faster. I pick my moment. “T-shirt off”. He cocks a grin at me.
“Yes. I want to see your skin.”
He considers this a moment, I know he is playing with different scenarios in his head, deciding which one pleases him the most. He strokes the top of my innermost thigh with a feather touch, I buck towards him and he snatches it away, pulling his t shirt off and casting it to one side. The he pushes the fabric of my dress up over my hips and then further up over my head. I am still more naked than he is. I feel magnificent.
He returns his attention to my thighs and kneeling down, rubs his lips against the spot his fingers abandoned. His tongue follows, setting out a slow navigation back to my knee while his hands knead and caress my bottom. Then suddenly he’s gone. “Hey!”
He’s back, “I almost forgot.” he says “Dessert!” He’s holding up two bowls of sauce. “Chocolate and strawberry puree.” He lifts my leg and pours chocolate sauce all over my stocking tops. It runs down my thigh in a sticky trickle, then the other leg and the puree follows. I can feel them pooling and dripping into the crease at the top of my thighs and I silently, well maybe not silently, (because I’m making quite a lot of noise by now) I mentally urge the stickiness into my cunt. He gets my drift because after he’s licked away the sauce, he pours more directly onto my pussy and watches it drip down over my clit. The sensation is fragile, but exquisite. Then, finally the feel of his tongue where I want it most. I wriggle and thrust against his face. He holds my hips firm and digs his fingers into the swell of my ass. He teases my nub and dips down to taste the juices flowing freely from my cunt. Then he scoops his hand into the strawberry sauce and pushes it into me, licking that up too as my muscles squeeze it back out again. He inserts it more thoroughly with his fingers and I fuck his hand, sucking his fingers as deep into me as I can. He groans, withdrawing his fingers and replacing them again with his tongue, once more licking and sucking me, his hands again on my thighs and then one on my ass, one on my tits, as he rubs sauce all over my nipple. It feels warm and silky and it pushes me over the edge. I come loudly, hips reaching up, his tongue in my cunt, my legs over his shoulders. I want his cock in my mouth. I want something to suck, badly, but I’m too far gone to talk.
Slowly he lets me come down, eventually I mange “I”. He soothes my raging clit with a broad sweep of his tongue which makes me judder. Then he adds more chocolate sauce. I feel it squelch between me and the table cloth. “I want you”.
“Do you?” he replies.
He stands up and takes off his jeans and boxers. His cock is straining. It juts forward towards me as if begging on its own behalf as well as mine. I slide myself forward off the edge of the table, sitting up a little too late so that I end up on the floor in a heap. I take his cock in my mouth before he has a chance to change the plan and I suck hard, tasting the salty pre-cum that flavours the tip. It reminds me of the olives, savoury not sweet. My cunt throbs in response, aftershocks still running through me and I suck harder, dropping my shoulders and opening my throat. I moan around him and the vibrations make him thrust into me. I know I have him now, and take a moment to re-angle my mouth before sucking again, longer and harder.
He’s the one moaning now and I consider the chocolate sauce, but this is a mistake because reaching for it distracts me a moment and he hauls me up off the floor and back onto the table. His cock is buried inside me to the hilt. Maybe it wasn’t a mistake.
I urge him into a rhythm. “Yes.” I tell him and he leans down and kisses me deeply. I accept the kiss. Despite the strawberry and the chocolate he tastes of me.
“Yes.” he agrees, and then “Yes!” and “Yes!” some more. I kiss him hard, holding his head against mine, sucking and rasping my teeth against his lips. Tangling my tongue, I push my finger into his ass. My hips urge him into me with frantic motion. “YES!” He comes hard, pulling out at the last moment to pump hot creamy liquid over my tits in an impressive spray. I massage it into me and offer my nipples to be sucked. I’m close again now and my body is still craving attention.
Afterwards, we lie on the table together. I can’t help thinking about how much I enjoy trifle.
All Rights Reserved, Storm Cloud Kitty 2016