Four writers for the price of one blog
Silk sheets and cigarettes.
I am standing by the window looking at the muggy orange night sky. The cigarette makes my lungs burn unpleasantly and the new scratches on my back are stinging – I hope my blood has not stained the sheets. She’s in the bathroom and all the lights are off. I am looking at the cloudy night because I don’t know my way around her apartment. I don’t want to see the critically acclaimed pieces of art in her living room, or the expensive vintage designer chairs in her bedroom, or the perfectly coordinated clothing in her closet, no doubt arranged by season and material, shade and length…
I forced myself to move on, to want more than one impossible man, and now here I stand , ashing a cigarette on a strange woman’s expensive floor. I hear her stirring in her bathroom, and I let the bed sheet I’m wearing drop onto the floor. The window frame is surprisingly warm on the naked curve of my back. The door opens and warm honey light splinters the floor into shards of gold and black, and I see her silhouette moving toward me. My body reacts to her torrid gaze and I open my mouth to say something smooth, but all that comes out is a whimper.
She takes me into her arms. Her lips are hot on the hollow of my neck, and she puts her hands on my hips and sighs.
“ I want to feel your cunt against mine,” she whispers, and her hand moves to my ass and slides a finger into me.
Her long straight blonde hair smells like cloves. I kiss her with my eyes closed, my hands on her firm, small breasts. Her mouth tastes foreign. She is so easy to please; I just have to lay between her legs, my strong fingers inside her moving in a hard in and out while my full breasts press against her upturned face. She curses in French and her legs, so long and smooth, are perched on my shoulders. Muscles that have been long unused are burning and bulging with the effort of fucking.
I straddle one of her legs and slide my pussy against hers. She trembles and moans as I rub my swollen lips against her slick, smooth ones. Her hard clit rubs against my slit and touches mine. I moan, and she reaches up to grab my bucking ass. My hands are underneath her armpits and my big breasts are jiggling right above her face but she doesn’t lick them, she just looks, licking the sweat off her upper lip and whispering unspeakably dirty things in French. She tries to slide her fingers inside me as I we grind, but it’s impossible.
“Fuck me,” she says simply, a woman used to getting what she wants.
My hand is frozen into the perfect arc for her pussy. I thrust and moan into her forehead but she doesn’t need to kiss me to come. She prefers screaming into my breasts, and I find it easier than having to look her in her beautiful eyes. I use the top of my thigh, the bony wing of my hip to help my fingers go in deeper. I’m thrusting on top of her like a man and I find I like it better than being the one who is being thrust into. All I have to do is keep in rhythm with her hips. I don’t have to pretend anything. Her shaking hands are on my breasts squeezing my nipples, I can feel the warm wetness of her sweat on my belly. Her legs are beginning to tremble and I know that she is about to finish. I curve my long back and begin to fuck her in earnest. Her muffled screams in my chest make my sternum shiver but I don’t stop until her pussy pulses and squeezes around my fingers and wets my hand to the wrist.
“Je veux te lecher ton clito tout mouillé**,” she whispers in my ear. I turn on my back and open my legs so she can see my pussy. She presses me onto the bed and shoves her face between my legs, moaning at how wet I am. My thighs are hot and slippery, and I shiver when I feel her tongue swirl on my clit. Her bedroom ceiling has fat blonde cherubs painted on it…
My toes curl as she tongue fucks me deeply and slides two slim fingers in my ass. Her other hand is squeezing my breasts, pinching my nipples. When I look down her head bobs eagerly and for some reason, I have to suppress a laugh. She thinks that I’m about to have an orgasm so she licks even harder and instead of laughing out loud at her mistake in judgment, I moan harder and harder. My hands are over hers, over my breasts, and I am coming and laughing at the same time but she never notices as blind with lust as she is.
When I get up my eyes are stinging with tears but my heart seems like it has stopped beating in my chest I am so calm. My breath is steady and my legs are heavy as I walk to the small balcony in her bedroom. I walk out, completely naked, unafraid, but she doesn’t complain that the neighbors will see. I find I’m upset I didn’t cause a scene. I sit in a wet iron lace chair, my naked ass is pressed against the edge as I put my neck on the top of it, my back arched, breasts high on my ribcage, legs straight out in front on me. Raindrops sting on my upthrust breasts and she walks beside me, wrapped in a royal blue silk moiré kimono. She’s looking at the smooth roundness of my stomach, the triangle of silky brown pubic hair between my thighs.
I bum another cigarette from her, Gauloises, too strong since I’m not an habitual smoker. I grab one of the half empty wine goblets still sitting on the small iron table, the wine already watered down by rain. I find it tastes better…I take another drag from the cigarette and know that I have her undivided attention. I slowly pour the wine in the smooth flesh line running down the center of my body — the hollow of my neck, between my breasts, running into my belly button. She kneels beside me and puts her tongue right in my triangle of pubic hair and drinks, then licks up and down my slit to tease my still-sensitive clit. I move my hips toward her face. She finally looks up to the dark balconies around us. We’re high above the city and no one is looking so she pours and watches as it gathers in glistening drops in my pussy hairs. She spreads me open and slides two fingers in my cunt and drinks and licks until she feels me tighten around her and shiver with a second orgasm. She tells me through her tart kisses that it tastes just like a drink she had in Italy, water and wine, mildly sweet and chastening, and as she does I notice that her chin is stained red.
“You have such sad eyes,” she tells me, and takes my face in her hands. I can’t help but smile, lopsided and surprisingly girlish. I dip my pussy-sticky fingers into the watered wine.
“Are you happy now?” I whisper at the rain as it begins to fall harder on my face.
**I want to lick your wet clit.