Coffee

Story of the Day 4/7/15

 

“Fuck.”

I let out under my breath softly, as he bit the corners of my mouth.

What I didn’t expect to happen was coming more hastily than I had originally anticipated.

As we sat on the little red duvet on the floor sipping our coffee, August lifted his left hand and brought it to caress my cheek. His palm was soft, like a fleece blanket that had been soaked in fabric softener for days.

At first, we were both very shy and timid; keeping it casual, keeping it formal and yet slightly informal simultaneously. I made him eggplant parmesan for dinner, and watched him lick the plate clean. Oh the joy I felt received from seeing him eat. He had plum basil marinara sauce all over his fingers, which fucking taunted me because I was afraid he’d get it all over my tablecloth. Luckily he wasn’t as clumsy as I thought he would be, and managed to keep my tablecloth fairly clean, with the exception of a few bread crumbs, but I took that as a compliment.

“How’d you like it?” I asked with hopeful child-like eyes.

“It was incredible, thank you.” He smiled.

I could tell his reply was genuine and real; that he meant it. It wasn’t some bullshit disguise to cover up a false statement just to spare my feelings.

Once we finished with dinner, we decided to move things to the floor. I didn’t have a couch at the time as ludicrous as that may sound, but hey, at least I had a giant fucking kitchen and a fridge large enough to feed a family of  immigrant refugees.

As we took our coffees, we sat very close to one another, and he smiled at me with his eyes. Attempting to be as suave as possible, he slid his hand next to mine and touched my index finger with his. Our eyes met instantaneously, and he lifted his left hand and brought it to my cheek.

What I then thought was going to be a passionate kiss was instead only a mere tease.

Parting his lips a near millimeter from mine, we exchanged breaths. He began to kiss the corners of my mouth, softly, gently, moving down to my chin, tracing a little circle, a line of kisses around my lips but never actually touching them. With closed eyes, I let out a sigh of pleasure and had my head tilted upwards. After tracing my mouth, his palm remained attached to my cheek. I didn’t move. I didn’t dare move.

He continued to surprise me with his warmth, creating an elaborate detailed route from my mouth to my eyes. Kissing my eyelids as he sent ghostly shivers down my body. It felt beautiful.

My face was a map, and he knew every single damn coordinate as if he were God himself.

As he planted kisses on my eyes, they blossomed. The only part left untouched were my lips. Savouring the best for last, he placed his face directly inches from mine and stared at the grand orifice of my face. I looked deeply into his eyes. Chocolate covered peanuts, melting right before me, waiting to be devoured. Without further adieu, he pressed his body onto mine, chests touching, our lips meeting in a harmonious melody. He kissed me passionately, aggressively, indulgently. I craved all of him, and I knew that he wanted all of me too. And the more we exchanged breaths, and the more we connected, the more my body was ready to explode into a narcotic euphoria.

“I want you so badly.” I whispered directly into his mouth. “so badly..”

“Then have me..” he affirmed.  “all of me.”

I grabbed his burgundy crimson flannel by the collar and kissed him sensually, gliding my fingers through his hair, tugging at his arms, leading them to trace the mountain peaks that were my curves.

Releasing little growing moans, as they became more elongated; we were a ballad, a symphony, an orchestra of pleasure and desire; two sources of energy igniting a fire. August shielded himself on top of me, and we shed our clothing like candy wrappers until we were both bare, wallowing in each other’s sugar.  

The coffee then spilled.

Everywhere.

 

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