by HSWriter ©
It was night and traffic was slow in the streets and on the sidewalks. A time to reflect on the nature of motion instead of speed, a time to acknowledge the small, hidden sounds that lurk below revving engines, alarm bells, jackhammers. The only person I'd seen was an old Irishman who was pushing a handcart who said, "Excuse me, son," as he passed. The street lamps did not beam or direct light. They perched like balls of iridescent Styrofoam infused with helium.
I lingered outside the display window, watching the road's expanse. The holidays had ended and the gaudy reds and greens, the tinsel and tufts of snow flocking were being replaced by something sparse, subdued and tranquil. The words, "White Out" were stamped against the glass, all lowercase. The floor was bare and coated primer gray. To the left and right, translucent balloon shades hung from the cobalt blue walls.
The designer returned, entering from the right. She was dressed casually in blue carpenter's pants with loose, oversized, cuffs rolled up several inches above her ankles. From her fingertips, barely visible beneath the long arms of an oversized sweatshirt, were a pair of round, white floor mats with a gloss suggesting a plastic material. She noticed me staring--or perhaps, noticed that I was still staring--when she bent down to place the first mat and gazed back a moment, registering, assessing, gathering the data to process when she looked away. I smiled, waiting. She got to her feet and when our eyes locked a second time, I mouthed the word, "Hello."
One of the tall, hulking, street-sweepers rolled past, flashing white lights that cautioned benignly, and I watched her flexure around slowly and disappear through an invisible door. I watched the balloon shade sway from the wind of the door shutting behind her and imagined the play of her soft soles against the linoleum floor inside.
When I turned my head she was standing outside, a few feet away leaning against the entrance, pulling a cigarette from her pants pocket, placing it in her mouth, rolling it slowly along her lips with her tongue. It hung there a moment, unlit, her eyes glancing tentatively at me, the dark shapes along the sidewalk that lost dimension. Timid profiles, silhouettes. The character traits of darkness. I walked up to her as the cigarette hit a match stick flame, illuminating her face, the tiny pips of sweat, the strawberry blonde bangs.
"It must be like being onstage in there," I pointed. "The lights bearing down."
"Yes. Though. Though, it's a lot easier without any lines to get right."
We smiled at one another, properly. Mine acknowledging her witticism, hers acknowledging my acknowledgment.
"Are you almost done?"
"I was certain you'd scuttle off when I came out here."
"But you're gorgeous."
She chortled as she pulled on her cigarette and then offered me one. I heard a murmuring cluck each time she inhaled.
"I could use a little help in there. Heavy pieces. No handles. Leverage problems. Give me a hand?"
"Lead the way. But let's smoke first."
We spoke no other words outside. Simply admired one another. Smiling, observing our smoking habits, experimenting with new spatial relations. Cigarettes between index and ring fingers, rolling along the thumb and middle finger tips. Slow drags. Thin gray streams off thick smoke.
I followed her inside, a step behind, imagining the feel of my skin against hers, of milky thighs, bare shoulders. Goose-pimples. Flashes crisp and electric. In a moment, we were standing in a small room behind the window display. The dim yellow light hued her features with a mellow, earthy glow. My hands were drawn to her face immediately, tracing the cheekbones, the cooler temperature of her ears. One thinks of molding clay pots at such times. Spinning, wet, giving to the pressure of nudges, foot pounds of pressure per inch.
She responded in short, subtle jerks as I quickened, exploring further, outlining her upper lip, just inside of her mouth, tracing her jaw, chin, blowing lightly along the nape of her neck. She turned her head, and muscles tensed as her tongue ran the length of my throat.
"Work," she whispered, and took a slow step back.
The rest of the display was erected over the next few minutes. She had me carry a pair of white Formica obelisks onto the display area and rest them atop each of the floor mats. I crouched in the corner while she made final arrangements, studying the particulars, placing a set of china on top of each of them. When she was finished, she circled the area four times, squatting, observing them from different angles, prone and in motion.
She smirked mischievously then. "There's just one more thing"
We both laughed and returned to the work room.
Suddenly, the motion seemed to quicken dramatically. Her body stepped into mine and I felt her pelvis nuzzle against me, then the friction, the heat that intensified and focused itself in the stomach and chest. Her eyes were like glass, the pupils large and striking against a green that seemed to purr like a chemical forest of pine. Our kisses began quickly and we explored each other's bodies with hunger, fire, urgency, pulling at one another's clothes, feeling shirt collars stretch, tiny seams snapping along hems here and there, contorting to maintain this first kiss while loosening belts, pulling zippers and fingering buttons.
We opened our eyes and at once gazed at these bodies of ours in a mirror, tangled like a complex swath of wires, a circuit that shook and curled with electric bursts of energy growing in waves beneath our skin.
Our breathing blended into a steady pattern that began in our bellies and circulated to our chests. I pulled away and turned her around, feeling my cock brush against the small of her back as my forearms clasped her tightly. She clawed my shoulders as I felt the soft undersides of her breasts for the first time, kneading them delicately, tracing her nipples, feeling them harden beneath the slow, clockwise, arcs of my fingertips.
My hands slipped easily inside her loose trousers, to the run of flesh along her waist, belly and navel. The different textures. Cotton, denim. I pressed and squeezed her thighs, faster, more urgently, feeling heat prick the back of my neck, our bodies churning, engulfed in a single animal emotion. I noticed an antique sconce hanging from a chain above our heads, turned her head toward mine, and was able to kiss her mouth again, run my tongue along her teeth, the moist heat inside, stroking her chin as her own tongue explored my mouth greedily, filling it, rolling and crashing as I pressed myself harder against her, wanting only to have us both naked and on top of one another, writhing, entwined, slithering.
I slid to the floor, my back bolt against the wall, and looked up at the loose smile shaping her face, a smile that did not alter as she alit, crumbling downward until her warm center was straddling my hips. My eyes watched hungrily as her fingers reached out, opening the first few buttons on my shirt, enough for her hand to fit through and comb through the hair on my chest. My manhood strained harder against my pants and her warm crotch enveloped me, gyrating with sensation. I could feel the tip of my cock pushing at the outer folds of her pussy and our desires heightened.
I leaned forward, placing my hands on her sides and pushed her onto her back. I eyed her a moment, slack-jawed and panting, before crawling on top of her, watching the belly of my arm skate along her stomach and breasts. She arched her back and I lured her nipple inside my hungry mouth, smelling her body's light musky perfume as my tongue traced the bumpy pink texture. Her hands fell on my head, pressing my face harder against her chest so that her left breast slipped entirely in my mouth. I explored and sucked, thinking of her pussy, of wagging my tongue the length of her vulva glistening with pussy juice and the saliva from my lips.
Her hand lunged without warning at my pants, pulling down the fly, releasing my fully erect cock. She leaned forward, kissing the head, licking the shaft, dizzying me as the whole of it slid inside her mouth. I began to moan louder, wanting, more than ever to taste her, wanting only to have her in my mouth the way she had me. I craned my neck and began showering her head with kisses as my slick cock met the cold air, before returning to her mouth and the languid, sensual rhythm it afforded.
"Please," I breathed. "I must taste your pussy. Now."
She drew her head from my cock, kissing it, caressing the head gently before meeting my stare. We kissed and her mouth was so warm, wet, I felt, in some way, as if we were both beneath a body of water created by the moist heat of our mouths.
I hooked my fingers into her belt loops as she arched her back, lifting herself while I slid them past her ankles. I crawled up her body and began kissing her through her panties, getting them wetter, teasing us both. They stuck to her and my cheeks ran along her pelvic arch, sensing the texture of pubic hair beneath the soft cotton fabric, feeling her hips begin to grind slightly, pushing into me.
My fingers slipped beneath the elastic above her inner thigh to brush her hair, lingering outside of her moist lips. Moans that fluttered from her seemed to float from her oval stomach and out from her lips.
I yanked off her panties and stared between her legs a moment before licking my index finger and touching the entrance to her pussy lightly. My face came to rest against her swollen lips, the wiry hair ticking my nose, listening to her breathing grow more erratic. There was a sudden burst of tension, and then a tidal calm punctuation by a long, slow breath that swooshed all the way through her.
My mouth leveled as I began kissing up and down her lips, blowing on them, letting her sweet juice drool down my face, rubbing her engorged clit with my finger, placing it in my mouth, the juice trickling along my taste buds making me want more, more of her sweet salty taste for my mouth, as her fingers pushed at the back of my head, making my cock harder, still wet from her mouth around it. I stooped down lower and, chewing more hurriedly, carefully circling her clit, spreading her lips wider with my middle and ring finger, finally wriggling my tongue inside her pussy, this slick satin pillow of fire liquid orchid, her thighs and hips responding with short jerks, peppering the desperate moans that gasped from her lips.
I knew she was about to come.
She began to buck and I felt a heat blasting my tongue and lips in waves, her pussy grinding against my mouth harder, faster, telling her, "I love the way your pussy tastes" as my eyes opened to stare at her glistening pink lips and then up the length of her body, at her hands cupping her breasts, at her fingers pinching her nipples.
"Let me fuck you," I said, breathless, trembling. "Please let me fuck you. I want to feel my cock inside of you. I feel like I've been waiting a lifetime to fuck you."
She smiled and leaned forward to tear away my pants. I watched them skid along the floor and then lifted her legs and hung her ankles over my shoulders, feeling her hands guide me in. We reveled in the first moment, both of us moaning loud, screaming, at the same time, penetrating the river of juice inside of her, that conjured thoughts of a quiet brook rippling beneath a fingertip.
Our screams grew louder, more breathless, strained, guttural moans that growled through our teeth, both of us awed by her walls nuzzling contractions, the steady motion of my cock, her clit banging against my pelvis. Her arms trembled, stretching out toward me, cupping my ass with her hands, pulling me in deeper so that every inch was inside her now, my whole cock bathing in this hot juice at her core. I felt sweat trickling from my chin, glistening in the light as each drop fell in beads onto her stomach and chest.
My hands arced round the small of her back, pulling her closer as everything began spinning and disappearing in quick flickers. She bucked furiously, her pussy contracting unrestrained, myself exploding inside of her as the world disappeared into a chorus of infinite feedback and flowing metal. I drew my cock in and out more slowly now, more tender, and placed my finger on her clit, circling it in time with my slow, winded thrusts, bringing the finger to my mouth and licking her juice that tasted sweeter than honey.
I increased the speed in which my finger circled her love button and she shrieked suddenly, her hips squeezing, convulsing against my sides, her ankles grinding into my neck and I screamed from the beauty of watching her come, of making this beautiful creature feel so beautiful.
across her in a heap and the two of us laid there, not needing to utter
a word, petting each others damp bodies until slipping off to sleep.
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