A Night In Ch. 02

I pull on oven mitts and remove the bubbling dish from the oven. The heavenly aromas of cinnamon, apple, brown sugar, and toasted walnuts waft up to my nose. My love wolf whistles from his spot leaning against the wall. "Panties are so overrated, especially when you're wearing a short skirt like that."

I laugh. "I'm not sure where they wound up, but I'm not planning on going anywhere tonight. Are you?"

He grins. "The living room, the bathroom, your bedroom. We'll be spending a lot of time in there."

"Tired already?" I ask playfully as I shift to the fridge for the vanilla ice cream I've stashed away.

"Nope. I'm used to being up all night, baby."

I turn and quirk an eyebrow at him. "You're used to being awake all night. You being up all night would be awkward and probably very uncomfortable."

He smiles, shakes his head, and walks over to kiss me. "Okay, Captain Semantics." And just like that, he's distracted by food. "Smells good." He grabs two bowls from the cabinet and rattles around a drawer looking for an appropriate spoon. He helps himself to a monstrous bowl of baked apples and crumbly goodness topped with a mound of vanilla ice cream that quickly begins to melt and mingle with the dessert. I serve myself a slightly more modest portion, and we make a very short parade back to the living room.

He takes a huge bite, and I can't help cracking up. He looks like a confused hamster, cheeks all puffed out, caught between the very hot apples and the very cold ice cream. He swallows his bite somehow and asks, "What?"

I smile and eat a smaller bite of dessert, licking slowly at the melting ice cream, savoring the different flavors and textures. "You're doing it wrong, love. Dessert is about pleasure. You're not really hungry anymore, and there aren't a whole lot of nutrients in here. This is the sensual portion of the meal."

"Sensual..." His eyes are glued to my lips.

"Would you like me to show you what I mean?"

"Yes, I think I would."

"I'll be right back." I run upstairs to my bedroom and open my drawer of naughty things. It only takes a moment to find what I'm looking for: a blindfold and a tin of miniature cinnamon breath mints.

Downstairs again, I detour into the kitchen and fix myself a rum and Coke with more ice than I generally prefer. I make him a drink too.

I hand him the glass, and he takes a long pull from it, still clearly wondering what the hell I'm doing. I'm not 100% sure either, but he doesn't need to know that.

I sit beside him and place the blindfold lightly on his knee. "Put it on."

He picks it up and turns it over in his hands. "Why?"

"Because covering your eyes heightens your other senses. Taste, smell, hearing, touch..." As an accent, I run my fingertips just barely across the sensitive skin of his inner forearm. "If you're ever uncomfortable or you want to stop, just say so, and I'll stop."

"I don't think you'd hurt me or anything."

"Good, because I wouldn't, well, unless you wanted me to, but you're not really into pain, which is good, because I wouldn't really be into hurting you."

He thinks about it for another second, and then he dons the blindfold. I adjust it over his eyes so he can't peek. "Just relax," I tell him, though there's clearly at least one part of him that's not relaxed at all and is really looking forward to whatever I have in mind. I stand up and turn off the big floor lamp and the kitchen light, then the tv. I slide the coffee table away from the couch to give me more room to work with.

I pick up his dessert bowl, still warm on the bottom. I pick up the spoon. "Part of the pleasure is in the anticipation. Knowing what's coming, waiting for it, thinking about how good it's going to be." I trace the cold edge of the spoon gently along his lip. He opens obediently, taking the mouthful of confection, chewing slowly, enjoying.

"What do you taste?"

"The apple, and something else a little tart...lemon, maybe? Spices...I know cinnamon, but I don't know what the others are. The ice cream."

I take another bite onto the spoon and feed it to him. "What's different now?"

"This bite has nuts. It's toasty and crunchy compared to everything else."

"Good boy." I lean in close and nibble lightly on his earlobe. He groans. I work my way carefully down his neck, planting kisses, flicking his skin with my tongue.

He grabs my hand, pulling it over, placing it on top of his hard cock. I squeeze obligingly, sliding my hand up and down the bulge. I don't just focus where he wants me to, though. I keep moving my hand, running along his athletic thighs. I lay my head on his shoulder, pitching my voice just low enough for him to hear. "Anticipation," I pause for three heartbeats, "and pleasure." On "pleasure," I move my hand up to rub his dick... He squirms.

"Should we take this off?" I pluck at his shirt. He nods. I get the shirt most of the way off. He finishes the job and flings it somewhere in the dark. Maybe it'll find my undies; who knows?

His chest is gorgeous. He's gorgeous. He still takes my breath away, and we've been together for years. I set to work exploring every inch of him with my hands and lips and tongue. I reach for the table and take my drink, sucking an ice cube into my mouth along with my fizzy beverage. The liquid, I swallow. The ice cube I keep. Using my lips and teeth to hold it, I rub it across his nipple. Then I tuck it into my cheek and lick the hardened bud.

"Oh, fuck, oh baby."

"Like that?" He nods emphatically under the blindfold. "How do you think that might feel, elsewhere?"

He tangles a hand into my hair. "Please," he murmurs.

"Please what?"

"Suck me."

I undo the button on his jeans and then carefully slide the zipper down. He lifts his hips to shimmy out of the pants and takes the opportunity to send his boxer briefs with them. I move away to help him get everything off completely. While I'm taking things off, I pull the dress off over my head.

The ice has melted by this point, so I pop one of the strong cinnamon mints into my mouth. I return to the couch. "Kiss me," I urge softly, tracing his jaw with my fingertip. He leans forward, and this time, his tongue finds mine. I melt into the kiss, the small point of cinnamon sweetness filling both our mouths, making him hotter. My hand is on his inner thigh, so I can feel his hard cock throbbing in time with his heartbeat. It rubs a small place on my forearm, and part of me wants to straddle him, ride him hard until I cum, but I'm loving the power I feel right now. I'm not ready to give that up.

When we come up for air, I suck another ice cube from my glass and palm three or four cinnamon mints. I suck the tip of his cock into my mouth, letting the ice melt against his hot skin, following it with my eager tongue. His whole body arches into a bow.

"FuckingGodJesusBuddhaAnubisSantaClausandeverybodyelse..."

If he can get that much out, I need to work harder. He reaches down to hold my hair out of the way, stroking it, trying to breathe deeply so he can last against the onslaught of contrasts—cold ice, hot skin, warm mouth...

As the last molecule of ice melts, I take my mouth from him for just a second to pop the mints in. I use my newly free hand to wrap around and stroke the base of his shaft. I bring my other hand in close to rub, fondle, and weigh his balls. He lets go of my hair and grabs the arm of my couch in a death grip. His other hand twists in the cushions. He's muttering something over and over in a language I don't understand, but I take that as a positive sign. I sink down again, sticking my tongue into the little hole at his tip and

"FUCK!" He cums explosively. It pours down my throat, and I swallow before I think about it. I wish for possibly the hundredth time he'd eat more pineapple.

I sit up and wash things down with the last of my rum and Coke. I set the glass down to find him eying it. And me.

"What were you saying back there?"

He laughs. "I forgot how to speak English for a minute, there. I was saying 'I love blindfolds. They're my new favorite thing' in Yoruba." I join in the laughter.

When we've both settled down, he drains his own glass and toasts me with the remaining ice cubes. "Your turn," he announces with a wicked grin.

Ice rattles in the glass, and then he lays me back against the arm of the couch. His hands caress my breasts as his icy lips nibble my neck and ears. The sound of his breath is enough to renew the ache of desire between my legs. I moan softly, skin tingling from the ice. His head dips lower to my breast, sucking hard on one nipple, using one hand to squeeze the other, and his right hand slides between my legs.

"You're so wet," he murmurs.

"You make me wet."

He traces around my swollen clit with a finger. I whimper. "I know you like that," he says. "I love watching you, watching your face when I do this..."

He gently pulls back the hood of my clit and massages the super-sensitive nub. I writhe against his hand, but he doesn't increase the pressure. Just that wonderful, maddening gentle stroke. He sits between my legs, staring at my face, my breasts with their hard nipples, my wet pussy. He guides my left leg up to rest against his shoulder. He turns his head to kiss my calf and lick the under side of my knees. That's new, and kind of great. His right hand continues the slow, sensual assault on my clit, making me squirm and whimper but not letting me cum.

"Anticipation and pleasure, right, baby?" he asks with a smile.

I nod, and he slides two fingers inside me. I cry out as he draws them in and out, so slowly, but it feels amazing. I should be self-conscious, but I'm not. He watches intently as he strokes faster, then slower, fondles and rubs my clit. I think for a moment the pleasure building inside me will drive me mad, though I'm not sure if it'll be the orgasm or the lack of one that brings me to insanity first.

"Please," I whisper.

"Please what?"

"Please let me cum."

"Your body belongs to me tonight, baby. I'm going to fuck you at least twice more tonight and again in the morning. If I make you cum, that's what you're signing on for."

"Yes! Yes, please!"

He moves his hands faster. "I'm going to fuck you like the bad girl you are...help you get all that frustration out with my big, black cock."

"Yes, yes, oh god, yes, I need that. I need you to make me work tonight."

"Then cum for me, bad girl."

I do. I cum even harder than I did the first time. My cries of pleasure stick in my throat, and I'm silent, clinging to his shoulders, shaking in his arms as I cum and cum and cum some more. When the last shivers run through my body, he leans in and kisses me. "I need a shower. Care to join me?"

I grin. "Sure, I'd love to." We race each other upstairs, both stark naked and laughing like fools.