One last glance at the packet. Fifteen minutes cooking time, no more. Creole rice needs that for perfect tenderness. Water boils hard in the pot. Just drop the sachet and let it steam. Sunday cordon bleu chef, I demand perfection.
Fifteen minutes in life? Nothing. Why not join Michel-Pierre in the living room? On the way, I slide Beethoven’s CD into the player. Craving ‘Moonlight Sonata,’ my favorite. Music before all, Verlaine was right.
The Awakening
Silent steps. Creep up behind his back. Arms around him, whisper about this perfect interlude? Nah, stay quiet.
What to do in this precious, mundane moment? Hug his forehead? Stroke his cheek? Kiss his mouth?
Better idea brews. Juicy one. Slide lower.
No words. Spin his chair to face me. Eyes lock. No reaction. He lets me. Even though his work’s urgent, he said this morning.
This break welcome? He’s stone-faced, no emotion. Smiling, bold, I unbuckle his belt. Carefully unzip, fumbling a bit. Clear the field. Territory to conquer again. Play a sonata in three, four movements. Enchanting sounds fill the room. Minutes of raw gut activation. Make him feel good. My woman’s gift, under classical tunes.
My eyes beg: Help me! He obeys, no words from me. Not yet…
Hip thrust. Cock springs free. Balls heavy, full, begging release.
Grab his soft dick in my fingers. Then slide into my mouth. Tongue skates, smooths skin, wraps tender. Sprinkle love. Caress attention. Circle, coil, fit this instrument. It’ll lead the orchestra soon.
Does he like? Oh yeah. Rogue wakes to teasing. Brushes, touches spark growth.
Expansion on my taste buds! Mouth floods hot, foamy spit coats his shaft. Tongue rolls for major chord. I set tempo. Rhythm steady. Vary suction. Suck, lick, swallow. Simmer in sweet-sour sauce to sonata backdrop. Skin silky, veined under tongue. Gland deep red pepper dark. My greedy lips swell, harden, grow his rain stick.
Pull out the dressed phallus. Proud, erect. Admire. Love those foamy desire pearls at the slit. Taste precum coulis. Salty-sweet appetizer. Guzzle without limit. Drunk on thirst-quenching bliss.
The Raw Act
Kneeling, eyes up, back between thighs. Suck rondo presto, noon delight. Work, peel slow strokes full length. Seventeen cm conquering flute, curves left, all mine.
Gorgeous cock! Pure delight!
I think, pulling back slight.
Firm voice, no argument: “Suck, suck!” Hands grip head, reposition on suck axis.
Talented composer, good sub. Shift rhythm. Modulate strokes. Hands on keyboard, fingers dance balls. Cup gonads tender, slick with spit between digits. Keep cadence. Tongue lashes beat on excited male meat. Joy hymn between us.
I throb too. Slow for breath. Hold note, brake his fire. Then tempo back, slow cuddle. Tease the rod endless. Hold back for prolonged joy. Don’t rush tensed body craving blast.
Make him sweat wait. Punctuate soft. Nostrils drunk on musky pheromones. Suck balls one by one, cheeks bulge full.
He leans forward, yields to hunger. Shivers under touch. Nails rake bare chest. Tweak pecs, hard nips. Shirt tossed minutes ago.
Head back, muscles arc taut. Can’t see face pleasure. Dick throbbing confirms. Veins fire-hot. Peak near. Sense wild explosion close.
Skilled lover, deep throat. Hit glottis, scrape palate. Pump crescendo. Receive under jerks his seed, cum reward. Sense overload, body flood.
The rice! Fuck the rice.