With the sting of the Mezcal still on her tongue, she could feel its poison pulsing through her head. It was the perfect antidote given that only two shots mesmerized her into seeing purple flowers that crept up the curtains in vines. She knew they weren't really there. She didn't care. Because that's exactly how it was for her β wine-colored, slithering, and tangled. As her head swam through the hallucinogenic prism of amethyst, she became absorbed in a state that could only be described as intensely purple.
Purple, the bastard child of "just say no" red and "drunken sailor" blue, ardently maintains its delicious autonomy with an entire array of spectaculars from lilac to violet, from loving to violent. It was her favorite place to be.
He contributed greatly to the wicked mixture that would overcome her. Being in his presence was nearly overwhelming as it was. He possessed such strength and character with just the right amount of stamina and drama to back it up. He intensified every experience like a kaleidoscope on acid. And, he set it all to music, which made the dance ever so much sweeter.
With the lavender haze seeping into the spaces of her mind, she was easily lost in the sticky syrup. The resultant posture was this: From the moment his purple-headed shaft came into view, her lips worshipped it like sacrificial virgins trying to satiate a pagan god.
Yes, it was true. A little Mezcal and a smoke of the fabled pipeweed landed her on her knees every time.
Her approach was flawed, her eagerness evident. He always pretended not to notice. He knew she could already taste him on her lips, yet he waited to see what bungled masquerade she would perpetrate. She was far too dramatic to be subtle and far too drunk to be in control. So, when the madness had become a throbbing ache, she pounced. Sometimes she tried to be smooth about it, but more often than not she came across like the willful, impetuous child that lived in the candy store in her head.
He knew the rewards of patience. When affected in this way and baked to a simmering point, she was capable of getting so lost in sucking his cock that she would perpetuate her task for hours. Slowly discovering this sensation or expounding upon that new technique, she would leisurely explore every part of him with her fingers, lips, teeth, and tongue. And, when her mouth was not too full to emit any noise except greedy, wet sucking sounds, she would begin to explicitly give voice to her filthiest random revelations.
But, at this point, all of that remained to be seen. They were still sitting on the couch as if neither of them had an agenda. So subdued, he ignored her fidgeting. She realized the burn was upon her. She had been considering the possible venues for suddenly putting her hands on him for more than a few minutes now.
Leaning in for a friendly kiss, she re-assessed the precarious situation. Attempting to appear innocent enough, she playfully squeezed his leg, just above his knee, perhaps letting her fingers linger a little too long as the tips of her nails grazed the inside of his thigh. The radio had become temporarily silent with dead air, and in a moment as forceful as an eternity, not even a breath was to be heard above the virtually imperceptible, simmering static of the speakers. Any flickering remnants of pretense dissolved between them in the heavy summer air.
Just as the first strains of a classic rock opus began to cut through the space, a flash of sudden bravery besieged her. Running her hand directly up the inside of his thigh, her fingers quickly found their mark. She had suspected he was wearing his "fuck me" jeans and now she knew for sure. One of her favorite staples of his wardrobe, his soft, faded blue jeans not only clung to his tempting ass in all the right ways, they also featured a couple of strategically convenient places where the denim had been worn so thin as to leave his skin bare and accessible to her touch. One of those places was very close in proximity to both his sweet ass and his restrained bulge - high up on the inside of his right thigh - where her fingers played now.