We chose Paris on the Platte as our meeting place. The modern bohemian cafe on the Upper West Side of downtown Denver was filled with patrons. At 11 am on Sunday morning, the coffee shop served as a point of fusion for hummus-eating hipsters and artistic emo goths. I entered through the front door to find myself awash in vivid hues emanating from canvas along the walls. Expressionist paintings and copper metalwork – pieces for sale by local art students – accented an otherwise drab brick-n-mortar interior. I was an outsider in what could be called yet another mecca for the younger members of Denver’s counter culture.
Of course, I wasn't here to make friends. After a weekend death spiral of night clubs and online chats, I had found someone to sate my desire for a warm body. She had posted on Craig’s List for companionship: SWF, student, 21, looking for “friends, and maybe more…”. The open call wreaked of the naivety and desperation of a little girl with few friends, far from the large, bustling family she left behind for college not too long ago.
Kylie wore her conservative upbringing as a collar of control around her neck; one which prevented her from calling our meeting aloud what it really was: a hook-up. Silly girl. One claiming interest in a “strictly platonic” connection is not so easily coaxed into coffee by a man with smooth words. And she most assuredly doesn't respond to his picture with statements like, “I’ve never dated a black guy before!”. Give it time, precious. You’ll get your chance.
Walking down the aisle of 1950s cafe-style furniture, I came up from over her right shoulder. Kylie sat, facing away, at a table against the wall. She appeared happily engrossed in some pastime on her smartphone. She wore a form-fitted, white cotton blouse and a colorful, full-length, Indian cotton summer skirt. The fringe of the skirt gave way to the soft, fair skin of her calves. Around the right calf stretched a whited beaded ankle bracelet, accenting a delicate foot. A thick mane of long, blond hair flowed down her back, collected loosely behind her neck by a pink bow. A single, curly lock had broken free, showing it’s defiance to the bow by hugging the contour of her full cheek. Her style of dress and size – no more than 5’6”, I imagined – gave me pause. I wanted her because she was young, but I could only hope she hadn't lied about her age. After all, what I had planned for this girl was definitely not the sort of thing you told your parents during the weekly call home. In fact, she’ll most likely shut it away deep inside, letting it re-emerge while pleasuring herself in her marriage bed as her future husband toils at work to support the 2.5 kids. It was a shameful thought. Her mommy and daddy would be horrified, to say the least. But this was why you don’t let sheep among the wolves.
“Read anything interesting while you were waiting”, I asked.
She turned her face toward my voice, clearing away the rogue lock of hair to expose a soft smile.
“Shawn? Hey, you!”, she beamed.
Kylie rose from her seat to greet me with a hug. She was warm and smelled like tropical fruit. Her curvy form told the story for an athletic body of German, childbearing stock that had once gained “the freshman 15”; only to lose it again while leaving some behind in all the right places. Her hips – floating upward for our embrace – were inviting. I tested the waters by pulling them close to mine. She responded with a teasing smile. We sat and got acquainted.
Kylie and I talked intently for more than an hour over Spice Chai tea, although very little of what she said mattered after the first 15 minutes. She told me her studies were in music therapy. But somewhere between the nuances of music theory, and debate over the importance of early childhood development, my attention gave way to the swan song of her lips. Yes, those lips. They were full and pink as an orchid blossom, and danced on her face as she spoke. They formed words with a sculptor's intent, as if each one was meant to be sensual. The bottom lip wiggled ever so slightly when she giggled – an attribute faintly detected while fantasizing of the ways I would invade that pretty little mouth.
You see, I would never tell Kylie that everything she said was inconsequential. I wasn’t here to fall in love, or to become her friend. I was here at the whim of my true, dark love; my Vulgar Princess, whose thighs I would have parted at that moment were it not for the distance between us. She begged that I offer to her a tribute – not of money or pretty jewels, but of flesh and fornication.
“You want me to ravage another woman in your name, don't you?”, I asked of the Vulgar Princess. “How scandalous! Tell me that's what you want, and I'll dedicate this weekend to making it happen?”
“The idea makes me throb between my thighs.”, she replied. “I want you to find her; and when she's bent over, and you're inside her, I want you to think of me. Fuck her the way you would if it was me on all fours in front of you. Then, I want to hear all about it.”
So was the price of my Princess’s affection: a young girl to “tribute-fuck” while I thought of her. And Kylie fit the description of my love exactly:
Make her young. Innocent looking, if possible. Hair long enough to grab fistfuls of.
The ending note of our second cup of Chai came at my suggestion that Kylie take me back to her place to check out the guitars of which she spoke so proudly. It had been years since I played, and I could use a lesson. She leaned forward with a devilish smile, as if the lingering moment would cause me to betray my true intentions.
“Really?! Okay, but you’re only getting a lesson if you promise to behave.”, she said, fumbling to pick up her things while standing.
“Trust me. I’ll be good”, I responded.
As she turned to walk out, I let her lead to admire the sway of her full hips. The the press of her skirt and heat of her body had allowed a flattering crease to form between the globes of her youthfully, round and perky ass.
Sweet, innocent Kylie. Our sweat and writhing orgasms will be my concerto. Your heated screams will be my cry to Heaven.
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/21b77h/tribute_of_flesh_part_1_mfinterracial
My heart is racing.
BTW, it looks like I’m going to be taking in a new pet on a Dom/sum arrangement. I may have to get into rope work. Should be very fun.