Story Title: Special Night With Michael
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I found myself snugly wrapped in his arms and my lips brushing against his as soon as his flat door opened.
“Hey!” exclaims the speaker. I laughed, taken aback by the force of his greeting. He was dressed simply in boxers and a white tee.
He took my hand in his, and the warmth, softness, and rougher roughness of it made me want to moan. I followed him into the kitchen and was handed a glass of dark red wine. I sat against the counter and drank half of it.
“So, Micheal… Did you win the competition?”
He gave me a dirty look and said, “Yeah.” “But tonight, love, it’s all about you.”
“Oh?” says the speaker. I grinned and gave him a kind look. We met for the first time on a Grand Canyon tour about two years ago. He was alone, and I was alone, so we ended up spending the day together, discovering we had a lot in common, dating, and eventually getting official. With his jet black hair, tanned skin, and deep brown eyes, he was extremely gorgeous as a half-Italian. He was muscular but thin. However, this implied that he was a devout Catholic. In fact, he only agreed to fuck me when we were engaged, and the first time he did it, he was so remorseful that I began to feel like I was the serpent in the garden.
But I have to admit that he was just as unimaginative in bed as he was in the kitchen. But, boy, do I adore him. I can satisfy my need in other ways.
“Have you been making pastries lately?” I pointed to a nearby counter, where there were multiple tubes of various-colored icings.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to make a cream pie for someone.” He smiled again, and his stare was as if he was undressing me. My feminine desires were piqued, and my skin tingled with anticipation. He cornered me and pressed me even further against the counter with his weight before kissing me, which he was quite excellent at.
We drank from each other’s mouths, still planting small kisses whenever we needed breath and then sucking at the other’s lips or tongue.
He panted and replied, “Tie your hair.” I accepted the blue handkerchief he offered, but with a skeptical expression on my face. My long wavy tresses used to turn him on, he said. As he unbuttoned and took down my jeans, I tried to tie my hair as best I could because my hands were trembling with excitement. He did not, however, remove my underwear, instead inserting a massive palm into my delicate flesh and massaging it while sealing my lips with his. When he tugged on my pubic hairs, I jumped a little. We don’t mind if each other isn’t shaved.
As he inserted his finger within me, I let go of his mouth and flung back my head, moaning. He started cautiously, pulling back a little and thrusting in again, but each time going deeper and deeper. He had a freshness about him. He became hungrier and more ferocious. It was fantastic.
He took off his shirt and assisted me in unbuttoning mine. He tore the blouse open since we were so sloppy with the buttons. He then took a step back and inspected me from head to toe.
“Michael, what are you up to?” My breasts rose and fell as I gasped for breathe.
“Eating you up.” Then he gathered up his icing tubes and headed for his prized mahogany dining table. His chest and abdominal muscles magnetized my nipples to stand and harden as rigid as they possibly can. He motioned me to come and I dashed into his arms and mouth.