Author: BIGnigma694

Morning comes knocking. Half awake, you hit snooze three times. Every 8 minutes. Totaling 24 of utter denial. Two minutes later, you cave. Time’s run out from avoiding adulthood.
You shuffle beneath the duvet, exposing your arms to fresh air after being trapped for 9 hours.
Rolling over, you pull me towards you, grasping my body for support during the ultimate morning stretch. What could be better than the sweet satisfaction of a grand stretch and my body molding into yours before getting up? I shift back into you, your lower half stirs.
Lips separated, you exhale. Your warm breath wraps around the nape of my neck.
You kiss my bare shoulder. Goose bumps cover my left arm as your wet lips meet my skin.
I sigh quietly.
Up my ear you move.
I love to hear you moan.

Summer Fridays, home from work by 3 pm.
You sit at the dining table, finishing up some emails.
I’ve been home all day cooking your favorites. Pasta carbonara, lemon tart for dessert.
Your nose summons you to the kitchen; the smell of crispy bacon hypnotizes you.
Your broad frame sneaks up behind me, becomes my shadow.
Just a taste I remind you as you lean over me, having a cheeky bite of dinner long before it’s ready.
Your eyes roll back, head nodding with approval, licking the residue of the simmering creamy concoction off your lips.
A groan of satisfaction vibrates from your throat.
Fuck baby, that’s decadentyou mutter between mouthfuls of pasta.
I love to hear you moan. Read more »

5:27 pm.

The Girl walks up the stairs. She places her beaded indigo bag on the counter, grabs a barstool, makes herself comfortable.

The afternoon sun beams on her back. Her champagne silk tank sticks to her dewy skin.

The air is still- she begins sweating.
Her shorts grow tight. Her thighs slowly swallow the raw denim.

The Bartender on duty turns around.

What can I get started for you he chimes with a wide smile, forehead dripping in sweat from the hottest day on record. A black bandana covers his hairline.

Overworked, his tired eyes widen with a new patron sitting in front of him. He studies her balmy complexion.

She smiles without reason.

Still looking for now, thanks she says to the menu instead of him.

Tired Eyes is our most popular drinkclaims the Bartender, prepping his ingredients, having already decided what he’s making her.

They lock eyes- her vision shifts towards his full lips. Facial hair traces around his pout.
The Girl begins to feel warm in places other than her sun-exposed skin.

She inspects him as he makes the concoction. Read more »

Morning comes knocking. Half awake, you hit snooze three times. Every 8 minutes. Totaling 24 of utter denial. Two minutes later, you cave. Time’s run out from avoiding adulthood.
You shuffle beneath the duvet, exposing your arms to fresh air after being trapped for 9 hours.
Rolling over, you pull me towards you, grasping my body for support during the ultimate morning stretch. What could be better than the sweet satisfaction of a grand stretch and my body molding into yours before getting up? I shift back into you, your lower half stirs.
Lips separated, you exhale. Your warm breath wraps around the nape of my neck.
You kiss my bare shoulder. Goose bumps cover my left arm as your wet lips meet my skin.
I sigh quietly.
Up my ear you move.
I love to hear you moan.

Summer Fridays, home from work by 3 pm.
You sit at the dining table, finishing up some emails.
I’ve been home all day cooking your favorites. Pasta carbonara, lemon tart for dessert.
Your nose summons you to the kitchen; the smell of crispy bacon hypnotizes you.
Your broad frame sneaks up behind me, becomes my shadow.
Just a taste I remind you as you lean over me, having a cheeky bite of dinner long before it’s ready.
Your eyes roll back, head nodding with approval, licking the residue of the simmering creamy concoction off your lips.
A groan of satisfaction vibrates from your throat.
Fuck baby, that’s decadentyou mutter between mouthfuls of pasta.
I love to hear you moan. Read more »