Breakfast of Champions

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Anji and William satisfy their hunger.
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Anji closes her browser window and locks the computer with a deep breath, the machinery in her head, epecially the primitive systems, throwing small charges. The size and shape of her body are defined in her awareness now by the stimulating hormones being produced in those systems, a delicious cocktail thats pumping down into her breasts and causing her nipples to harden, and slipping across the inside of the skin of her belly to her pussy, making it warm and quietly ache for attention.

The house is silent save the buzzing of summer insects riding the slow breeze through a screen door. She thinks about his message, bites her lip, and moves with the neutrality of nobody watching to the bedroom, where she pulls a pink dildo from the small wooden box hidden beneath a pile of panties. She lies down in the velvety folds of the bedcovers, trying not to let the artificiality of pink plastic stimulation bother.

She unfastens her jeans and slides them down tanned, muscled thighs to her knees, which she spreads, and she pulls her shirt up to give the humid air access to her breasts. Feels more real this way, whether or not anybody was taking notes. The dildo is hard and cool to the touch, but feels good when she rubs the "head" slowly against her clit, and then follows the line of her pussy lips to where it recedes inside of her. She's closed her eyes.

In her mind she replays a visit:

She'd walked far enough through the streets and neighborhoods of Niville that by the time she finally stopped her thigh muscles continued jerking hastily, but it was her stomach's nervous pangs that Anji couldn't ignore. Across the street stood the house she held in memory; disconcertingly solid, well-kept, and possibly occupied. She knocked...no answer. Wrestling mixed feelings of relief and frustration, she sat on the steps and waited, staring at her tired sneakers. He got back late. The heavy clouds drowned the stars but the precipitous drop in temperature had raised the hair on her arms and crystallized her rapid breaths. William looked confused for a moment when he saw her in the dim street-lamp light but recovered quickly and invited her in. His house was warm and comfortable. He offered a drink as he poured one for himself, and Anji accepted and nursed the whiskey as she talked.

The explanation told itself simply and well. She'd broken up with a unhappy man who was now staking out her house to such a degree that she felt uncomfortable sleeping there. Usually she could brush off the paranoia long enough to grab a few hours rest, but he'd left a disturbing message on her cell this afternoon. She'd just recently moved from Florida and hadn't made many friends yet, and her car was on its last legs from the couple thousand mile drive. Would he mind if she stayed at his place for a few days?

William was an easy-going sort of man with charmingly boyish features and intelligent blue eyes. He said she could stay as long as she needed to while his wife was out of town on vacation. When she came back though, Anji would have to find another way to deal with her ex...like maybe the police. Anji thanked him and promised to help out with meals and housework while she was there. They both sat in the living room catching up and had several more glasses of whiskey as the moon inched silently overhead. When it became clear that Anji was struggling to hold her head up, William suggested it was time for bed.

He followed her up the stairs and showed her the layout of the second floor. There was a loft with a futon & bookshelves, a couple of kids rooms, what seemed to be a guest bedroom, again books; all about childrearing, a bathroom, and the master bedroom, which looked too inviting. Anji was drunk and beyond making concessions for modesty by this point; she just slipped out of her jeans and crawled under the covers in a t-shirt and underwear. Watching her curl into the blankets, William smiled a little to himself as he took off his shirt.

She woke early, maybe five am; her stomach had knotted - punishment for skipping dinner and then drinking. It took a moment to come to her senses, and when she did she just wanted to sink back into the warmth behind her and tell her stomach to shut the fuck up. But she was lying on her side. And the warmth at her back was breathing softly into the back of her neck. She'd somehow somnambulantly spooned her host. And she felt his morning erection pressing into the crack of her ass. It'd been awhile since she'd experienced someone new this way, so Anji's body responded by preparing for sex. Her panties grew damp, her heart rate increased, and she had to resist a strong urge to push back against him, or wiggle her ass. Somebody's husband, she reminded herself. Somebody cold, who didn't seem to want him, but somebody's husband nonetheless. Still, she couldn't deny her attraction to him, which was one of the reasons she came to this house in the first place.

She could satisfy one of her hungers, though, and then hopefully climb back into bed in a less compromising position, maybe catch a little more shuteye before a possibly awkward morning. Slipping slowly from the bed, she padded through the shadowy house, downstairs, to the kitchen. She grabbed an apple from a tray in the fridge and took it to the sink, where she was washing it under the tap when a tan, well shaped arm came down beside hers.

Anji and William had worked together for two years. The first few months they were feeling eachother out; she withheld everything, quietly analyzing him, and he kept trying to draw her out, until one day she bit him verbally. In that painful minute, they both realized that they cared very much what the other thought. That realization opened a gateway to other feelings...

"hungry?" - he was standing right behind her. If she moved an inch, she'd press against him. Her mouth opened of its own accord. "Oh, yeah... I missed dinner. I didn't want to wake you" she was still in a t-shirt that barely covered her panties. He wasn't wearing a shirt. She could feel his proximity as tangibly as the water over her skin. "I wasn't sleeping." He slowly reached up and turned off the tap, and she braced herself against the sink, waiting for contact. Movement. Something. Nothing happens. She turns to face him, and he's looking at her with those blue eyes. She used to tease him that he told her everything, that he talked too much. Now, in the still blue kitchen, he's silent except for his eyes. She kisses him and it's intoxicating - like steak to the starving. She kisses his mouth again and slowly runs her tongue softly along his bottom lip. No stopping now.

She's shaking a little bit as he puts an arm around her and lets his hand slide down to her lower back, his tongue exploring hers. This feels good, and Anji doesn't stop herself when her own hand wanders down to extract what she's really been hungry for...for two years. She strokes him under the sweats, kissing harder now, her other hand around his back, holding him in place. Will frees his erection from the sweat pants he'd thrown on for bed, and Anji sinks to her knees.

She looks up at him as she takes his cock in her hands, moves them up and down on it, to get a feel for it before she begins working it with her mouth. She licks her lips again and puts them around the head, tonguing it softly as it enters the warmth of her mouth, then pumps her head on the shaft of his dick, gathering a little more each time, stroking the rest with her fist. She welcomes the challenge of fitting it all into her mouth; down her throat if necessary. She wants to feel his skin on her chin when he climaxes. Anji cups his balls with her free hand and begins to fondle them, and feeling his cock respond, sucks it hungrily, because pleasuring him is what pleasures her. It's only the two of them, now. She jumps out of time, losing herself in the rythm, willing to work until morning, wanting him to feel good for as long as she can sustain it. Her hand is covered in saliva now, and so is her chin. She rubs her tongue on his shaft, and feels it pulse. She moans involuntarily. His cock pulses again, this time giving her a taste of him. She takes it in, as much as she can, nursing him dry, then carefully licking him clean. Anji wipes her chin and stands as William puts himself away in the stillness of the kitchen. She overcomes a desire to kiss him on the mouth – having just swallowed his cum – but doing so causes a melancholy expression to momentarily sweep her face, and she raises her fingers and touches her lips absently.

"Alright." He says, suddenly looking down his nose at her, as though she was trying to steal something from him "Don't you think maybe I might want breakfast too?" he moves back a few steps, patting a spot on the table twice. Hop up here, is indicated. She obeys, watching him as though he might disappear as she slides her black panties down her legs and steps out of them, then she pushes herself up with both arms so her butt comes to rest on the cool, dark wood. She lays herself down carefully, and spreads her legs. From below the table, the view would be two tan calves avoiding each other on one side, a waterfall of brown hair on the other.

He vanishes from her sight for a moment and comes back with a paper plate.

"Let's make this a little more sanitary."

She laughs and lifts her ass as he slides the plate under. He takes a seat in front of her. "Now, what is it you want? Soft and slow touching? Or skip the foreplay altogether.. Tell me if I'm doing the right thing. I want a good review." he kisses the inside of one thigh, then the other...his stubble pokes her a little but Anji is concentrating on the intoxicating sensations surfacing where her legs meet. "But I need feedback." he says, kissing the top of her thigh while she turns her head slightly to look across the table at him...it becomes clear that now is the time for more dick, less talk. He looks amused. "Okay, clearly I'll have to otherwise employ my tongue." He touches her sensitive slit, and her back arches slightly, which he likes. "Who's 'Sam Beam'?" he asks, rubbing lightly, reading the navy blue writing stretched across her breasts. She giggles helplessly, breathlessly, for a minute. "A band. Iron & Wine. I lent you the CD, awhile ago." "Oh, right." He said, and as an afterthought "That was a good CD. You know you have good taste in music...I still listen to the first mix you made me". She laughs, and pulls the shirt up over her head – no more distractions! He kisses her thigh again, this time working his way inward, taking his time. He uses his fingers to touch her again, and then spreads her lips so that her clit is visible. Her pussy is swollen and pink, wet with anticipation. She reaches down absently and he pushes her hand away. He's licking her cunt now, soft and slippery like living velvet in his mouth, he resists the urge to take a bite. Anji's panting softly, still shaking a little, her eyes are closed and her tits are poking into the air, the nipples begging.

He increases his pace, sliding two fingers into the welcoming tightness of her. She moans. That's right, he thinks; I know how to please you. She feels his breath near the crack of her ass, his tongue so warm sliding the length of her sensitive clit, his fingers inside her, his other hand wrapped up around her thigh, fingertips spread, clutching the flesh. It's like Christmas. She moans and touches her breasts, feeling her nipples as he begins to focus his attention on the spot that gets the most results. His cock is hard again now. He wants to deliver this girl to the place of oblivion. Mindlessness. He tests her response to more input, pressing the pad of the thumb where he wants it to go. She breathes in quickly but doesn't look up – no objections. He pushes it in and smiles to himself as her pussy grips his fingers tighter, evidence of her pleasure sliding down her thigh to lubricate things. Perfect. Anji's eyebrows knit together and upward, her face asking the question of how much more she can take. She feels his cheeks against her thighs.

She thinks that soon they will fuck, fast and slow, over and over. But it's never enough. She thinks his body will become completely familiar with hers; that she wants to swallow his cum again. That she wants to be sore. She's making small helpless noises now, it's too good. Suddenly she feels the flush and the roar in her mind. From William's point of view the dam breaks and Anji's body begins to clutch his hand rhythmically, trying to extract cum from his fingers. It's already in her belly, he thinks. Her thighs quiver, and he resists the urge to fuck her right now, on the table. But – later. For now, he waits until she settles, flushed and naked on his kitchen table. Then he kisses her thigh one last time, slides the paper plate out and throws it away, and goes to the fridge, which he opens.

"How 'bout omlettes?" He asks.

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