The Wors

The Works

A Gentle Piece of Erotic Fiction

The door, rusty as ever, moaned ever so slightly, nearly pushing back, testing my strength, as I crossed the threshold into the pizza parlor. The stout aroma of the various cuts of meat and vegetables used in the pizza making process mixed well with the warm, thick air carried in by the July evening breeze. My gaze and my gait followed a similar path to the front register. The growling of my stomach directed my eyes across the menu. It all seemed foreign and dangerous, my sense for risky actions weighed down by the heavy mid-summer air. Dropping my eyes to the level of the counter, one need was replaced by another, one hunger overshadowed by a more powerful urge.

She was small and dark, a figure perfectly silhouetted by the heat radiating from the oven to her back. Her auburn cheeks were speckled with flour, the collateral damage of a battle won against a delicacy. Her shirt was a similar battlefield; the remains of pizzas come and gone added more decoration than the logo embroidered just above her breasts. Her jeans were slung low. A smile crept upon her lips as she asked me what I would be having this afternoon. A strand of black hair escaped a messy ponytail.

I stumbled into my words, by my eyes stayed fixed. I rattled on about how a recent bout of indecision had quickly clouded my judgment. She rocked back and forth, seemingly reviling in my loss of word.

"Well I'm going to go wash my hands while you sort this thing out, sir," she winked and turned away.

Before I could form any kind of response, she streamed off through the back doors. My irrational behavior to this point was washed away by instinct. Before I knew that I was in motion, my feet carried me through the back doors, toward the restroom. The door was slightly ajar as she stood, ass to me, rinsing her hands under the tiny faucet. My hand was on the door and a new passion burned through my veins.

She didn't turn around. Her eyes flew up to meet mine in the mirror. And that slow, gentle smile once again danced across her full lips. I was against her before the door closed, my front melded seamlessly into her back. With my beck I was able to explore her neck, taking in her lofty scent. My lips made a map of her collar, chin, and ears.

A slight gasp of approval sang through her teeth and soon her right hand was pulled back, tugging on the hair at the back of my head, inviting stronger, more forceful action. My hands met her hips and my fingers walked her pant line. Her deep breaths pushed her chest forward, begging to be discovered, dying to be touched. I stroked her breasts, eliciting more quiet whimpers of want.

I bypassed the barrier of her flimsy shirt, working my way under her thin bra. Her ass rocked in sync with my hips as she pulled me into her in a smooth staccato melody. The shirt was on the ground. It was quickly joined by her bra.

There she stood, topless and on fire. Her deep, dark skin glistened in the dim overhead lighting. Her eyes once again met mine in the reflection. Her mouth didn't move, but her eyes spoke volumes.

My hands moved on to the next stage of their careful work. The buttons on her jeans broke away with much anticipated ease. She held her breath as I slid her pants down her thighs, exposing her beautiful posterior. A few dancer's steps and her jeans were no longer an issue. The swaying of our hips grew more intense and the barriers between our burning flesh became fewer. My tongue traced a line down the back of her neck, through her shoulders, and eventually settling on her lower back. On my knees, I robbed her of her last line of defense. She was completely disarmed.

The heat generated by her rampant desire stirred in my chest and blossomed hot embers in my blood. My pants were just as easily lost as hers. Soon my clothes were piled upon hers and nothing stood between us except the frantic nuances of the act we so dearly burned to complete.

In one swift motion I pulled her right leg up onto the sink and spread her left to the outside of my step. Her back curved eloquently, pointing her business end in a suitable arc. Our need had become so hefty that much coaxing was unnecessary. Bracing myself with one hand cupping a shoulder and another holding a hip, I slowly entered.

The warmth of the room increased three-fold. Desperate gasps of desire and excitement escape two mouths. The initial, overpowering feeling of the first thrust caught me off-guard, and I stood motionless inside her for a few delicate moments, unable to convince my knees to hold my wait. But my strength and conviction were reborn with a vengeance when she rested her head back against my neck, close to my ear, close enough to hear her parted breathing.

Slowly I rocked myself into her, pulling liberally on her hips, while maintaining a firm grip on her right shoulder for leverage. As the pace and power increased, her soft mutterings became heavier. With each thrust came a thrilling cry. With each cry came a harder thrust.

Our bodies seemed to melt together, frosting the mirror with a light fog. I pushed and pulled, deeper and harder, barely able to comprehend the lustrous beauty of her skin and the gentle curves that it carried. We were nearly screaming now.

The force of each push rocked the sink, but the foundation was sturdy. Using the inertia of a particularly forceful thrust, she threw both her arms around my neck, again bringing her lips to my neck. She kissed and she chewed and she drew her nails across my back. With eyes closed I laid into her with all my soul, cupping her perfect breasts and stroking her dazzling posterior. I could barely breathe.

Her moans rose in frequency and timber. I responded appropriately, driving home as quickly as I was able. A sudden dramatic increase in volume told me I was close and I gave her my all.

She screamed and she contorted. She tore at my back and she pulled me even deeper. And then her panted breaths slowed down. She leaned forward, throwing her wait onto the sink, allowing me a perfect view of the work I had just completed, the prize I had attained. A tiny giggle erupted from her burning lungs and I knew a smile followed.

Before our eyes could meet in confirmation of our connection, the daydream was blown away by the changing of red to green.