A Dinner Forgotten

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Hunger of a different kind wins out.
763 words
4.07
12.7k
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You come home after a long night at work. The first thing you notice is the delicious smell as you walk in the door. A mixture of sweet and savory pulling you towards the kitchen. As you round the corner I stop you. Dinner is to be served after dessert tonight.

I grab your hand and lead you to the bedroom. A low fire dances in the fireplace, emitting a glow that makes your skin sparkle. As we step into the room, I turn to face you. I lean in for a kiss, but pull just to the side. Instead I tell you to take your clothes off and lay on the bed.

I watch as you do so, then I begin to remove my clothes as well. Once you've laid down I tell you to close your eyes. When closed I walk around to each side of the bed, tying your wrists to each bedpost with silk scarves.

You squirm in anticipation as I tell you to open your eyes. In my hands you spot a bowl, but you can't see the contents. I take from the bowl a single ice cube, I trace it across your lips. Down to your jaw, your collarbone, and then to just above your breasts.

Your skin is wild with goosebumps, yet your breathing is fast. I take the ice cube and lick the water melting off it, then place the ice cube above your naval. I trace the ice cube up to the bottom of your breasts, going from left to right across your ribs.

As you gasp from the cold and the pleasure I grab another ice cube from the bowl. This time I place it on your lips until you open your mouth to suck in the melting ice. Taking the ice cube I trace it down your jaw again, quicker this time. Stopping briefly at the top of your breasts, I move the ice cube to encircle one nipple then the other.

Dropping the ice cube back into the bowl, I move above you. Teasing you with anticipation, I bend down and give you the first kiss of the night. Your entire body responds, as you pull on the scarves to be let free I pull back.

I take my hand and caress from your cheek down, stopping only briefly to roll each nipple. Travelling down your stomach you begin to squirm and tug on the scarves. I keep moving my hand down, until I feel the heat coming from you.

Slowly I reach further until my fingers slip inside of you. Gasping my name as your body comes off the bed I still my hand. As you settle back down I start stroking in and out. Using my thumb to rub your clit at the same time, I lean in to give you a kiss. As soon as I'm close enough you assault me with your lips in a sensual kiss that blows my mind.

Continuing my strokes in and out, I move to kissing and nibbling on your neck. Moving my left hand to massage your breasts. Flicking your nipple causes you to arch your back and moan my name. Knowing you are close I pull back just enough to keep you on the edge.

I move down and move my thumb from your clit, still continuing to stroke you. Taking my time I reach out with my tongue and trace from my own stroking fingers to the top of your clit. Your body dances as I try to keep you still. Your moans drown out any other noise in the house.

I use my tongue to continue slow circles around your clit, causing you to moan with need as much as pleasure. Giving in to your need I plunge my fingers in deeper while focusing on your clit.

As I slide my tongue across your clit I flick your nipples with my other hand. Your body no longer touches the bed as I can't hold you still any longer. With one final flick of my tongue you moan my name as your body starts to shake uncontrollably.

As your orgasm rips through your body, you clamp your legs around my head. I still continue sliding my tongue up and down your clit until you scream out in ecstasy. As you finally come down from your orgasm I pull up beside you, finally untying your hands.

You pull me into you as you kiss me deeper than ever before. Your body still hums from your orgasm...dinner has been completely forgotten.

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LostWrenLostWrenalmost 7 years ago
Erotic prose poem

Nice feeling and ambiance. Written in the present tense, it reads somewhat like a poem. But that kind of restricts how much you can say and how much detail you can provide. Readers love detail. I would have preferred to read this in the past tense--from either woman’s point of view. In the past tense, one gets the sense that the narrator has time to recall more little things that happened and can take her time describing those things in more vivid detail, not just the sex but everything--like the fireplace. Was it in the bedroom or did they pass by it on their way to the bedroom? Take your time and describe these things. You have a good sense of mood and atmosphere. But I think you could make that atmosphere much more palpable and vivifying.

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