waist

‘I’m sorry. I’ve told you too much,’ he says morosely, ‘I think I should go.’

‘Don’t! I want you to stay.’

Vicki draws his hand round her waist, draws his bearded face to hers, loving the scratch of bristled hair abrading her soft skin. She opens her mouth for him, feeling his slimy tongue sliding all over her palate, loving his sour taste, his lambent forcefulness, in her. He caresses her waist. His hands wander slowly up her torso to her breasts. She loves him touching her breasts. It makes her tingle.

They pause for breath.

He murmurs at her, ‘God, it’s been so long.’

She kisses him on the lips. Pecks his cheeks, his forehead. Shifting his clutching hand, she stands.

‘There’s no need for you to punish yourself anymore,’ she says, echoing her brat’s words, ‘I’ll help you. I want to help you.’

His jaw falls as she pulls her jersey over her head and takes off her bra, freeing her heavy breasts.

‘Jesus Christ! You’re beautiful.’

She pulls down her comfortable tracksuit bottoms squatting on the carpet between his open legs, wearing just her black hipster pants, cocks her head to one side and says, ‘Well, do you want me?’

‘If you’re sure that’s what you want?’

She eases him out of his tanned leather moccasin slippers: his feet are bare and smooth, ‘It is what I want.’

He lets her take control. She rises like his sensuous phoenix, unbuttoning him, tugging his herring-bone sweater over his head. She runs the palms of her hands over his soft, matted hair, kissing his neck, chest, nipples, navel. He is well-hung, bulging, hard, jutting, out of his creased olive chinos.

She caresses him assuredly, brazenly, pulls down his trousers, pants, panting, for him, ‘Love me.’

‘I didn’t bring my sheaths,’ he says, struggling to find the right words, ‘I didn’t bring a condom.’

She stands, grips the waistband on her pants, and goes to pull them down, ‘So? I’ll take my pill.’

He gasps aloud as she pulls down her pants, revealing her sensational dark round chocolate mole. She sits in his lap facing him with her hands cradling his head, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, her pressure on him unbearable.

*****

waist, from Soon, She Must my most underestimated book, a novella, out now on Amazon:

Soon, She Must: Furl, HJ: 9798870488141: Amazon.com: Books