A Taste of Vanilla
Outside, a street lamp flickers off. It hides our bodies further in the darkness, behind the open curtains. Our scattered clothes are shadows next to where we lay.
The floor is hard against my body and must be against yours. But you don’t notice with my arm around you. Our mouths touch, and our bodies shiver. I pass my hands through your hair, and you stifle a moan. You must be remembering the last time this happened, when I grabbed you hard. Not this time.
Your figure is soft against mine, and my hand passes over your throat. We both know what could happen now. But I resist. Not this time.
You press against me, and I you. Our limbs are intertwined, and I’m so close to being inside you. No, not without a condom. But, we’re the closest we can be without one, and our breathing is ragged.
I press my hand against your subtle curves. You enjoyed my spankings the other day, didn’t you? Not this time.
This time it is you and me. No toys, no dirty talk, no devilish pursuits. It is our sheer lust that drives us. I have no idea what time it is, but it’s far past bedtime, on a week night.
Come with me, upstairs. Let me press inside you as you whisper for more. No begging. Not tonight. We breathe together and enjoy each other’s touch. All other senses are muted as your hands run over me.
Ask me, don’t tell me. I will do the same.
I take you, and then you ride me. You squirm and shake for me. I press into you from behind, noting the red marks on your ass as I orgasm inside you. We fall to the bed together, exhausted. Much later, I speak once more.
“So what do you think?
“Sometimes, you say, “Vanilla tastes good too.