A Memory of a Taste Lie No Other

I remember it like it was yesterday.

She had not moved since I walked through the door, except to place the baby gently into his crib and to smooth her skirt across her thighs and down to her ankles in a curiously erotic gesture when she sat back down on the lounge.

She had not made a sound.

I stood still in the doorway and looked around me slowly, letting myself relax, feeling the sense of belonging, of home, seep into me.

The house was spotless as it always was. I could smell the appetising smell of freshly fried onion mingling with what, lamb chops, coming from the kitchen. I could guess the rest, green peas with a dob of butter smeared over them, corn on the cob, mashed potato... ...the smells and my thoughts combined to make my stomach convulse with hunger.

Softly, in the background, I could hear Marvin Gaye silkily delivering "Sexual Healing" from the CD player. The music seemed to slide through the air to caress me, the listener. Forget the words, the sound was rich with passion, with emotion.

I put down my briefcase without saying a word, my eyes fixed on her. She knew me, knew that I loved to look at her, that I loved how demure and shy she looked sometimes, how it contrasted with how wild she could be.

The whore and the goddess. The mother and the lover. Oh woman, thou art a mystery to me.

From beneath her fringe her gentle eyes followed me as I walked slowly around her, looking at her from all sides. I found her very lack of motion intensively arousing, and I did not know why.

She made no effort to cover the breast she had been feeding the baby with, or to move her top at all. Her hands were clasped loosely together and placed in her lap. The curve of pale milky flesh that was her left breast nestled comfortably into the pale blue blouse, the left shoulder of which was pulled down to just above her elbow. A droplet of pale white liquid sat, coolly inviting, on the edge of her areola, just below her left nipple.

I moved around her left shoulder, my fingers trailing lightly across the back of her neck and then down the curve of her shoulder. I could see a trail of goose bumps following the path my fingers had taken. She shivered. I stopped in front of her, looking down at her.

In the stillness, in the near absence of motion, with the barely perceptible rise and fall of her breasts, I felt my cock thickening, hardening, in my pants.

Almost leisurely I reached down and picked up her hand, sliding my fingers down the palm and over the wrist. It was warm and I felt her grip my hand, hold it. Without looking I pulled her hand towards me and spreading the palm, her hand under mine, begain to rotate it, pressing it in slow circular movements against my growing penis.

Her breath came out in a tiny gasp them, but she did not look up.

I felt her other hand sliding my fly down and then reaching inside my pants and pulling my cock out. I groaned as her cool soft skin grasped my head, fingers closing around my shaft, pulling it towards her. Her lips parted slightly, her small pink tongue flicked across them and was gone. Her head stayed forward, her fringe hanging over her eyes.

Leaning forward, I raised her head until her neck was arched, until I could see her eyes. She looked at me, and then through me, as if neither of us were really here. I gently moved her back in the chair, my right knee slowly but insistently spreading her legs. She closed her eyes as her back arched against the lounge, the motion bringing her ribcage up and out, her breasts pushed forwards towards me. Her hand continued to slide over my cock in leisurely strokes. I lowered my head, breathing heavily as I moved towards her nipple.

I licked the drop of milk from the underside of breast and she jerked, the breath punching out of her in a low moan.

She hooked one arm around my neck and pulled my head closer as she sat, head back, her knees pushed wide open, her breath coming in small hard spurts against my hair while my lips circled her breast, while my tongue flicked her nipple.

I took the nipple into my mouth, encasing it, running my teeth lightly across it. I could feel her heat now against my leg where she had canted her hips forward, felt her begin to rub her pelvis up against my knee, squeeze her thighs around my leg. Her hands, both now reaching forward and wrapped around my cock were tugging insistently. I could feel the heat rising, that curious glazed feeling suffusing my limbs.

I sucked, my mouth squeezing from behind the nipple, pulling forward, until her nipple finally popped out of my sucking lips.

Warm sweet nectar sprayed against the back of my mouth, trickled down my throat.

She grunted now, a gutteral sound with the word "fuck" lost repeatedly within it, and then her pussy was squelching moistly against my knee and her body was convulsing spasmodically, uncontrollably, against me.

It was too much for me too and I felt myself crest, the contractions rising from my core and spurting out of me in waves of pure sensation.

I felt more than saw my semen spatter across her lap, over her hands.

My mouth found hers, wet and open, and almost as an after thought we kissed, her tongue playing gently with mine, her lips giving me wordless thanks for the pleasure she had just received.

So many days, weeks, months, even years have passed since that day.

But for me, it was and always will be...

...just yesterday.