© Sauce*Box, Winter 1998-99. All
rights revert to author.
Return to
Sauce*Box Winter 1998-99
Cold and Lonely
by A.J.Heard
Thinking how cold and lonely it will be
But you're too wired for bed at such an early hour
Even as exhausting and draining as the weekend was
Your mind keeps clicking
Throwing up visions of warmth and companionship
How different it would be to come home to someone
Someone who would be warm and soft
Would listen to you ramble and unwind
Understanding what makes you tick
What soothes you and pleases your senses
Thoughts of lying on that big couch
As she straddles your hips
Massaging your tense shoulders
Till you are a puddle of quietly purring nerves
On the edge of falling asleep
Tantalising smells tickle your nose
As you hear her puttering about in the kitchen
Stomach growling you realise you are hungry
More Hungry than you've been since you left at mid-week
Slowly sitting up you stretch and sit back
Watching her move from the small kitchen to the dinning area
Candles, wine, cutlery, napkins, she sets the table
Turning she walks to you
Appreciatively you watch the undulations of her hips
In her long flowing blue paisley skirt
Bare brown toes with painted nails peek saucily from beneath
While the silver chain she wears on her right ankle glints in the light
Her breasts bounce slightly in her cropped white sleeveless top
Making the silver and garnet pendant at her throat twinkle
Feeling other hungers stirring just below the surface
You take a deep breath to steady yourself
Attempting to decide on one or the other
Standing in front of you she bends forward
Giving you a teasing glimpse
Of breasts framed by peach coloured satin
You can smell her
A mixture of her favourite perfume and her own unique essence
Finding yourself suddenly hard and aching
The decision is taken out of your hands
She kisses you chastely on the forehead
Then taking your hand in hers leads you to the table
Seating yourself at the end where you have a full view of the kitchen
Watching her bend over to remove the hot crusty bread from the oven
Eyes moving caressingly over the generous line of her hips and ass
You can feel the wetness forming at the tip of your still hard cock
Coming to the table with the fragrant bread she sits beside you
Filling your plate with the colourful salad
Three shades of greens, red tomatoes, peppers, slivers of chicken and almonds
All drizzled with a fine basil, parsley, garlic olive oil vinaigrette
"Please, pour the wine?" she asks
At the first bite tastes bursting across your tongue
You find yourself wondering
What it would be like to drip it over her breasts
And suckle the dressing from her nipples
You look at her face
She is looking at you with a slight smile on her full lips
Looking farther down
You see her nipples are hard protuberances beneath her short top
Your mind wanders
To what she may or may not have on under her skirt
If she is getting as wet as you are
Aching, muscles clinching for your touch
You take another mouthful of salad
With a piece of the bread she buttered for you
Washing it down with a sip of wine, a very nice 93 Merlot
Images of sipping wine from her cunt
You can sense her slight movements
Almost as if she can read your thoughts
Letting your eyes trail up her chest
You can see the tremors of the pendant caused by her rapid pulse
Looking at her mouth you see a small smear of butter
Before she can wipe it away with a napkin
Pulling her forward you lean toward her and lick it from her lip
Pausing you look into her brown eyes dark with rising passion
Returning to her mouth you kiss her
Soft at first, just a mere brush of the lips
A quick lick here, there
She closes her eyes and you feel her shiver
Sucking on the bottom lip first then the top
Tongue sliding between to stroke and explore
You hear her moan softly
With your hands in her hair you pull her head back
Trailing kisses down her neck to the valley between her breasts
Sliding your hands under her arms, pushing them up
You pull her top up over her head and drop it on the floor
Kneeling on the floor next to her chair
Putting your hands around her waist you pull her forward
Her hands resting on your shoulders as she leans back in her chair
She jumps when you put your hot mouth on her breast
Sucking her nipples through her bra
Her fingers tighten their grip on your shoulders
As you take one hand and trail it down her thigh to her ankle
Sliding her skirt up as you make contact with her skin
Soft, warm smooth
Getting hotter the closer you get to the V at the top of her thighs
She is squirming a bit you can feel her clinching her thigh muscles
Reaching her cunt you find her hot and wet, drenched
She arches her back and whimpers
Sitting up she slips her hands to your cheeks
Pulling you forward she kisses you deep, tongue slipping in and out
Imploring you to act her hips flex in and out in sync with her tongue
Your fingers exploring her heat you slip two inside
Plunging in and out in rhythm with her moving hips
Feeling the need for more you stop
Puling her up from her chair you turn her around
Moving dishes out of the way you push her down supine on the table
Pushing her skirt up to her hips
You look at the wet stain on the crotch of her thin panties
Writhing and moaning she reaches out for you with legs splayed wide
In a frenzy of impatience you undo the bottoms on your jeans
Freeing your throbbing erect cock you push her panties aside
Pausing for an instant you look her in her eyes as she looks back at you
Then, you thrust all the way in, eyes close, you moan in exquisite agony
She cries out and arches up strongly from the table
You hold her by her hips and pump in and out she meets your every thrust
Moaning whimpering she cries out your name
You lose all control as your body tightens up to climax
Her cunt muscles ripple as she goes over the edge tears rolling down her
face
Sending you spiralling after her
She supports your weight as you lay upon her reconnecting your body and
soul
Shaking your head you come to yourself as you approach your driveway
Turning off the ignition you pause for a moment
Thinking about how cold and lonely it will be.
* * * * *
Your critique of this work is appreciated.
Please e-mail the author.