The Wild Side (The Wild Side 1)

“Come keep me company!” I heard her call from the hallway, and I stopped jerking with a curse.  If there was even a small chance I could get off with her, instead of just thinking of her, I had to take it.

Who knew how long this little fling of ours would last?  Certainly not me, and I needed to savor every luscious encounter.

I slipped on a pair of gym shorts, and that was it.  I was hoping to need as little clothing as possible again in the very near future.

She was already setting food out on the counter nearest the stovetop when I joined her in the kitchen.

I leaned back against the island, folding my arms over my chest, and watched her.  I’d found the one place in the oversized room to stand that would crowd her.  She didn’t complain.

“I hope you don’t mind breakfast for dinner.  I’m making French toast and bacon.”

I heard her, I just didn’t really process her words, still watching her and throbbing in time to her every movement.

“I can’t believe you have actual butter in your house.  You even had a stick at room temperature.  And powdered sugar.  Do you bake?”

The fact that she’d made the last bit a question was the only thing that had my mind catching up, and my mouth answering.  “I don’t, no.  The lady that does my grocery shopping and cleans the house likes to use my kitchen for baking when she’s here.”

“Wow, do you ever do something crazy, and like eat a cookie?”

I laughed, but she was reaching up into the cupboards to grab something, and my T-shirt rode up high on her thighs, then her ass, and the laugh cut off short.

“Yes, sometimes I’ll eat a cookie.”  I said it with a straight face, barely.

“Well, that’s something.  I won’t press my luck and ask you how you feel about butter.”

I didn’t answer or react.  Not for a long time.  I just watched as she cooked, and when she had laid out five pieces of egg coated bread in a skillet on the range top, and was rinsing her hands while they sizzled and cooked, I moved in behind her, pressing the front of my body hard against the back of hers.

I had to fight not to take her right there, right then, but something she’d said had stuck with me, and I was feeling adventurous.  It freed something up inside of me to be with someone like her, someone that I knew wouldn’t tell me no.

I lifted her, wet hands and all, the second she turned off the water.  I turned her around and perched her on the counter.

I grabbed the butter, cinnamon, and powdered sugar, lining them up near her hip, and wrenched her T-shirt over her head without a word.

She didn’t protest, instead leaning back on her hands to watch me.  She was utterly comfortable being nude, and I found that to be the biggest turn-on.  Nothing seemed to disgust her or make her recoil.  It was liberating to be with a woman like that.  It was certainly nothing I’d experienced before.

I dipped two fingers into the butter, and smeared it onto one nipple, and then the other, then did it again, greasing her lavishly.

“So I take it you do like butter,” she said breathlessly, with just the sweetest smirk.

I smiled and spread a generous amount of cinnamon over the butter, rubbing it in, twisting and pinching her br**sts in the process.  Each hard peak was quivering before I was finished.  Next came the powdered sugar.  It got everywhere, but so had the cinnamon.  I was positive that neither of us cared about the mess.

Not one bit.

I pushed her thighs wide apart, and took the butter to her pu**y, rubbing it over her lips, her little bush, her clit, even pushing inside.  She squirmed as I covered her sex in the cinnamon, but swore it didn’t sting.  It only tickled, and by the moisture pooling there, I could tell it was doing more.  I patted an ample amount of powdered sugar on top, for good measure.

I was hungry.

I stood back and enjoyed my handiwork, drooling at the sight of her na**d body coated and spread for my pleasure.

It wasn’t long before I broke and set to work on licking her clean.

I kneaded her br**sts as I sucked at each nipple, lapping, nuzzling, licking.  She arched her back and I could feel each restless shift of her h*ps as I sucked, and sucked, drawing hard at each ripe tip.

I pulled back to admire her body again.  Each perky breast was pink from the attention, clean of cinnamon now.  My eyes moved down to her cunt, which still needed my ministrations.

I moved away, pushing my shorts off impatiently.

She groaned out a protest, shifting restlessly, spreading her thighs even wider.  She knew what was coming.  I’d already spoiled her with how much I loved to eat her out.  But she could wait a few more minutes and indulge me.

I dipped my fingers back in the butter, spreading a small amount onto the tip of my cock.  I went sparing on the cinnamon and sugar, as well.  For me more than her.  I couldn’t have her sucking for too long, or I’d ruin all of my other plans.

I leaned back against the edge of the counter, gripping the base of my c**k hard.

I didn’t have to say a word.  She hopped down, got on her knees, licked my tip once, twice, then started sucking hard.

I pulled her back by the hair when I was getting too close, lifted her back up into position, then moving to bend down low, I buried my face between her thighs.  The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I barely felt it.

I was thorough, seeking out every last bit of sweetness, making her come twice, two fingers shoved deep and moving hard as my mouth worked, before I was done.