He pauses the game, character left perched on some Venetian balcony.
"You - could - always - suck - my - dick." He says it without turning. A slight blush on his cheek.
The infuriating fly has gone silent; met a sticky end by way of purpose made tape. Cheese and soy sauce flavours the air faintly. Truly, the house of two mid-twenties lads. Lost in thought, a sudden pressure brings me back. The ps4 controller lies idle, groundside. He breathes into my neck, grip tightening on my thigh.
I should resist, recoil or twitch. I don't. I've always fancied him in the way any red blooded female appreciates an attractive male. Tall, broad shouldered, regal in a way with his wide boyish face framed by locks of hair like burnt umber...or autumn leaves. Nice full lips - which I found pressed to mine. I gasp, have been gasping, cooing, sighing all along it seems. Whilst apparently his hands have been fumbling with my coat, button after button freed. The flimsy top underneath stands no chance.
We are a melody, a Calypso of staccato heels and heavier bass filled steps. Closet meets shoulder and suddenly I am lifted, swung neatly on the bed as though a pile of freshly laundered towels. Leaning down he kisses me, spreads my unprotesting limbs.
"Do you want this?" his pants are unbuckled, his scent overwhelming.
It stirs something within me, and I am cooing my consent. His smile is glorious, Cherub like. I giggle to myself and then I am out of myself - nerves raw with electric lust. Yes, sighing cooing almost as I writhe out of my skirt with grace. I am playful as a pup, as randy as a she-goat. Then suddenly, I am pierced.
It hurts. It hurts so badly, blood spats a solid blot on linen. Mick pauses, reconsiders my form. He reaches for my left breast, caresses the swollen nipple, presses, then pinches, and thrusts with vigour. I scream. He laughs but slows down long enough to kiss me on the cheek. He begins again with a steadier motion, almost ponderous really. Quickening his pace, he plays at dragging the the length of his shaft almost all the way out of me before resuming the same slow ponderous pace - strokes my sides, feather-like down my spine.
