Lunch with Kelowna
Jul. 18th, 2003 05:02 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
vicarzMy lips are still sticky
I sit here writing, but the smell is still on me. When we finished eating I watched her brush moist red on her lips. A quick mischievous shortcut later, we walked away with a box of Godiva truffles. I opened the box as we walked to the car. I was a little disoriented trying to maneuver both the way back and the box’s guide to which sin was lying beneath which surface. I offered the box to her as we approached the door to the stairs. She glared at me as though trying to pierce me with her eyes, but the draw was too great. Her angry eyes betrayed her, darting down to the temptations that lay below.
I showed her the map to what lay below, and she tore through it. I told her she couldn’t have the cappuccino, so she was instantly mesmerized with it’s coffee coated richness. Still she managed to pull herself away and pulled out an orange liquor truffle coated with a rich dark shell. I held the door to the stair open as two girls passed through it, and I heard “José I hate you.” I laughed, the girls smiled. I turned to see her holding the truffle on the tips of her fingers, a small crescent carved into the side. Her mouth moved like it had a life of its own, slowly, savoring what liquids had started to form inside it. There was the faintest trace of chocolate on the outside of her top lip, and I could see her tongue working into the middle. Her mouth slowed down more, and her eyes turned to me. “I hate you,” she said, showing the last remnants inside her mouth. “I really really hate you.” I couldn’t control my laughter as her control slipped away.
We staggered up the stairs, and she bit again. This time even her teeth moved slowly to separate the cream of the middle from the rich shell. Her eyes closed as her jaws met once. Her eyes fluttered open and she worked her mouth more. A tiny moan escaped her, followed by another which escaped her parted lips. She unabashedly bore her tongue into the remaining shell, pulling out the last bit she could. Lacking any control, she popped the rest of the truffle into her mouth. This time her eyes did not close - she looked right at me as she took it inside her mouth. I think I know what color her eyes are now.
A few slow jaw movements later she said “Mwigh hwate wou. Mwigh weawwy weawwy hate wou.” We had made it up half a flight of stairs. I bit into my cappuccino, popping the whole thing in my mouth and letting it’s familiar curves soak into me as I laughed. She couldn’t even fake anger as she turned her mouth’s attention to her fingers. Each one she pulled between her lips, her cheeks pulling slightly as she bathed each one delicately with her tongue. I held the door for her.
She looked like she was starting to regain control, and I opened the box again. “Oh my god, oh my god” was all she could say. She did not protest this time - her hand darted on it’s own without hesitation. Again a crescent was formed, this time a larger one - leaving more of its mark on her mouth. A thin line of moist chocolate sat between her lips as her tongue buried itself into the goodness found in the middle. A patient woman her mouth was, moving slowly to consume what pleasured it from within. Her neck moved as she took it down her throat, her eyes practically rolling back in her head with the pleasure that filled her insides.
By this time we had emerged and were walking outside. A momentary distraction passed us, but soon the open box called again. I held a guide up, and this time her pleasure was more selective. She brushed past one and another, then back to the one that would fall next. Her chest heaved as she held this one beneath her nose, taking the smell first - teasing herself as though she had an ounce of resolve left. The illusion was short lived, and this time her parted lips showed how her tongue reached the middle before her teeth had even pressed past the shell. Her eyes remained open, but were glazed as she was in her own dimension.
Again her mouth gave hints of the motions that churned within, and her fingers grew moist with the slower moving truffle. She used the tip of her tongue to tease the middle out of the shell, the truffle a moist mess at her disposal. She took it down to the shell again, and slowly pushed the remnants through her loosely parted lips. The melting chocolate left a slight trail as it surrendered to her moisture.
As we continued to walk, her groans continued as she took the last bits from her fingers. “You know what?” she suddenly postulated, “I just realized, I don’t have to get laid! This is it, right here! This is all of it. I don’t need to get laid, at all, ever!”
I laughed, and said "You know what? I do this every day..."
I sit here writing, but the smell is still on me. When we finished eating I watched her brush moist red on her lips. A quick mischievous shortcut later, we walked away with a box of Godiva truffles. I opened the box as we walked to the car. I was a little disoriented trying to maneuver both the way back and the box’s guide to which sin was lying beneath which surface. I offered the box to her as we approached the door to the stairs. She glared at me as though trying to pierce me with her eyes, but the draw was too great. Her angry eyes betrayed her, darting down to the temptations that lay below.
I showed her the map to what lay below, and she tore through it. I told her she couldn’t have the cappuccino, so she was instantly mesmerized with it’s coffee coated richness. Still she managed to pull herself away and pulled out an orange liquor truffle coated with a rich dark shell. I held the door to the stair open as two girls passed through it, and I heard “José I hate you.” I laughed, the girls smiled. I turned to see her holding the truffle on the tips of her fingers, a small crescent carved into the side. Her mouth moved like it had a life of its own, slowly, savoring what liquids had started to form inside it. There was the faintest trace of chocolate on the outside of her top lip, and I could see her tongue working into the middle. Her mouth slowed down more, and her eyes turned to me. “I hate you,” she said, showing the last remnants inside her mouth. “I really really hate you.” I couldn’t control my laughter as her control slipped away.
We staggered up the stairs, and she bit again. This time even her teeth moved slowly to separate the cream of the middle from the rich shell. Her eyes closed as her jaws met once. Her eyes fluttered open and she worked her mouth more. A tiny moan escaped her, followed by another which escaped her parted lips. She unabashedly bore her tongue into the remaining shell, pulling out the last bit she could. Lacking any control, she popped the rest of the truffle into her mouth. This time her eyes did not close - she looked right at me as she took it inside her mouth. I think I know what color her eyes are now.
A few slow jaw movements later she said “Mwigh hwate wou. Mwigh weawwy weawwy hate wou.” We had made it up half a flight of stairs. I bit into my cappuccino, popping the whole thing in my mouth and letting it’s familiar curves soak into me as I laughed. She couldn’t even fake anger as she turned her mouth’s attention to her fingers. Each one she pulled between her lips, her cheeks pulling slightly as she bathed each one delicately with her tongue. I held the door for her.
She looked like she was starting to regain control, and I opened the box again. “Oh my god, oh my god” was all she could say. She did not protest this time - her hand darted on it’s own without hesitation. Again a crescent was formed, this time a larger one - leaving more of its mark on her mouth. A thin line of moist chocolate sat between her lips as her tongue buried itself into the goodness found in the middle. A patient woman her mouth was, moving slowly to consume what pleasured it from within. Her neck moved as she took it down her throat, her eyes practically rolling back in her head with the pleasure that filled her insides.
By this time we had emerged and were walking outside. A momentary distraction passed us, but soon the open box called again. I held a guide up, and this time her pleasure was more selective. She brushed past one and another, then back to the one that would fall next. Her chest heaved as she held this one beneath her nose, taking the smell first - teasing herself as though she had an ounce of resolve left. The illusion was short lived, and this time her parted lips showed how her tongue reached the middle before her teeth had even pressed past the shell. Her eyes remained open, but were glazed as she was in her own dimension.
Again her mouth gave hints of the motions that churned within, and her fingers grew moist with the slower moving truffle. She used the tip of her tongue to tease the middle out of the shell, the truffle a moist mess at her disposal. She took it down to the shell again, and slowly pushed the remnants through her loosely parted lips. The melting chocolate left a slight trail as it surrendered to her moisture.
As we continued to walk, her groans continued as she took the last bits from her fingers. “You know what?” she suddenly postulated, “I just realized, I don’t have to get laid! This is it, right here! This is all of it. I don’t need to get laid, at all, ever!”
I laughed, and said "You know what? I do this every day..."
