I smile coyly and she licks her lips apprehensively . . Does she know I keep my lollipops in the drawer below the one where I keep my kittens and space hoppers? I find myself wondering, what she would look like on her knees in front of me, my fattest turkey stuffed deep with sage and onion stuffing, her beautiful eyes watering, Heather's dad is watching in the background, longingly gazing back at me through long lashes, hurt and amazed. I smile again and open my legs slightly before I get up, just to see where her eyes go.
I come back, watching her watching me. I sit down next to you, kiss you below your ear, my eyes on him and whisper, 'fresh meat?' You nod. I notice him shiver softly.
She wears her innocence like a scarf, I get wet imagining bodies tying her up with it. I feel buck, like i want to get more buck wild than I have ever been before in my life.
Pass me your loquacious tongue, tie around my own cunt dripping all over my eyelashes and stuck together.
She lays between us sleeping, we all hug. I felt closer to you than I ever have before.
Still, I want this, now, I want the hair on your head and your soft face grazing my thighs. You know this is how I like to be touched; through the split in my skirt; vehemently- without the tenderness that you reserve for our next meal. Physicality beyond sexuality. A fraternal touch between two comrades, the passion, the sensuality and the common goal to achieve a new dimension of lust. For what are we? If not beautiful dancers of the mistress pleasure, then promiscuous beasts ravishing each other leaving one but a fragile wreck in a storm of emotion.
I love her.
But then I realised. I love Richard Wentworth more.