How did we even get here? There was the club: neon and cheap vodka and lipstick in the cracked mirror. Then the bus ride. The city lights smeared lines of gold. Then a café, tea for Holly, coffee for me. A drunk with a bible gets freebies from the Greek sandwich jockey. Punks and hipsters make an uneasy truce by the jukebox. Ah now I remember. She says I should stay over. I stay over at Holly’s a lot these days.
The balcony. Small, a potted rosemary tries to become a tree. Basil, oregano, marjoram, overlap and interlink, savoury perfume. There is rain coming in. Undercloud glows like the cherry of a lucky strike. Holly hands me a gin. Sharp lemon, bitter tonic, sweet Bombay. Fizzle and snap on my dozy lips.
Then her lips. I didn’t see that coming. I like to pretend I’m innocent. Don’t you? She isn’t there and then she is. We are touching, finding places to put down the tumblers. Mustn’t spill. What would our mothers think? I have a skirt and a tee, she leggings and crop. She is short. She kisses my top lip with hers, then the bottom. Her hand moves up my leg. I cup her through her skinsuit.
Inside, collecting the gin; quick slug then back to mouth to mouth. Juniper French kisses. She shoves me into her room. Pushes me over on the bed. I backshuffle. Rest on elbows, watch her crawl in, that beautiful ass in the air. She kisses my knees. I part them, hussy that I am. Tip of the tongue traces and tickles touches tight thighs.
*Oh, fuck, Holly!*
Her hot little mouth is on my panties. Breathing teasing, mussing my gusset. I let her continue, hands free. I shuck off my bra under the shirt, wiggle it out, feel my nipples graze cotton. This girl wants at me. She pulls my knickers round my arse, to my knees. Gives me another kiss then gets involved. Serious skills. My breath flutters as she opens me up with her tongue, sinks into my pussy. I am wide eyed wide mouthed as this sex pixie sucks on my clit.
Then up again, kneeling, kisses, a finger inside me and the other hand squeezing my breast. I grab her short dark hair and take her top off. She gets my skirt off. I get her leggings off. Getting off on getting off. She plays with my clit, rubs the hood slick with my wetness. It’s like she knows what revs my engine. *Heh*.
She starts to get all possessive. I love it when Holly gets all possessive.
*Your little pussy is mine,* she says.
*Mmmhmm,* I say, nodding, lip biting, writhing.
She kisses me, bites my earlobe. *Open your legs wider…that’s right.*
*Mmm…fuuck…* I feel that tightness in my abdomen, behind my eyes, in my brain. *Youre going to make me…* I moan, arch my back. Spacetime shrinks, bursts, realigns.
I have fallen on my side, she is manoeuvring herself, pressing her hairy pussy against mine.
*My god, you’re so fucking wet,* she says. I can feel she is too. Hot, soft. She grinds, nice and slow. She pulls me onto her by her hips. I reach over and take a nipple. Squeeze it. She develops a rhythm. Turning herself on. Her hand joins her pussy, stroking her clit. I am half dazed from my orgasm. I let her ride me. She has an urgency. She needs the shakes. Her hand moves faster. She grits her teeth, snarls through her moment. Collapses.
We lie in the tangled white, sipping booze, hear the bin lorries growl out there in the night city. In a hypnagogic trance I have this strange notion that we are floating in the clouds, in an infinite brightness. Holly’s hand is between my legs again.
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6jvkrg/ff_before_dawn_tired_lust