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Instead of answering, she steps aside with a fair amount of space. I slide inside as she places her hands on her hips. She peers at me with a pinch of suspicion.
¨What is it?¨ She repeats.
Instead of telling her, I pass her my phone as it shows the camera view of the veranda. Her face turns bloodshot red as her mouth opens an inch before it closes tightly. Those beautiful dark brown eyes jab at me like fucking daggers.
¨You saw me?¨ She whispers with a hunch of shame. Immediately she hands me back the phone and turns to look away.
She exhales, turning back toward me. Less than an inch away from each other’s faces, I take the first leap, planting my mouth onto hers. She receives it with a moan that sounds resistant but collapses as her tongue plays with mine. I touch her soft face. Her eyes, steady with fervor, stare deep into mine the way they loved to years ago. Resurrecting our lust for each other is a fluid experience; it’s as if the clocks set us back, keeping us right in line.
She tugs at my waist, shoving me closer. One hand wraps around my neck. She wants this as much as I do. Beneath Micola’s skin, there’s that soft, warm vanilla aroma I’ve never learned to ignore. I’ve always drifted to her neck as I do now. Caressing her with my tongue, she has forever tender skin. I nibble, pushing her against her bed’s pillar.
“Why do you do this?” She asks, her voice growing meek.
“Should I stop?” I pinch her hips even closer, pressing her against the thick pillar.
“I…no…I don’t know.”
“Of course not.” I solve it for her. This she likes. I know as I spin her around.
My mouth crawls back up her neck, sinking into her ear. Licking her lobe, she fights a moan. She shutters, making my skin crawl and swelling my dick to its fullest extent.
The crescent shape birthmark under her right ripe ass cheek. I want to see it. As it rubs against me, triggering my growth, memories of her body replay. The many times I’d nibble her neck before bending her over, spreading her legs, getting a glimpse of her unusual rouge crescent moon, the size of a dollar coin. So soft.
I twirl her around to face her again. Sliding my hand down between her legs, she moans. Unsure, she shifts to back me off but once my middle finger taps between her wet hot lips… it’s over. Quivering, she covers her hand over mine from the outside of her dress. Incredibly wet, soaked from her moment ago lust, she guides me, eyes steady on mine. An exciting spot between hot and wild, Micola’s stare rips me apart like a teenage boy. Vibrant like the rogue Sicilian she is, her intensity at this moment reveals it’s been a while for her.
“We—can’t keep this— up. Okay?” She struggles to talk as I simultaneously resume nibbling her neck.
I want more. Feeling her wetness along my fingers, I retrieve my hand only to slide my pants down.
My dick pops out, throbbing.
“I don’t know…um?” She pants, suddenly unsure.
I cease to acknowledge it once her eyes drill me with a sexual madness I’ve never seen. She kidnaps my mouth, pulling me in, making me shift her from against the pillar to lightly pushing her back onto the bed.
With her pouty wet pussy glistening before me, she takes a long look at the rod she used to devour. It inches toward her dripping treasure, erect and ready right outside the door of her soft entrance.
“Let me feel it one more time.That’s it.” She demands, emphasizing a goddamn lie.
My eagerness is abundant. I’m not sure how she’s going to take this, but I pull out a condom from my top shirt’s mini pocket. She bats her eyes with a devious mischievousness as she remembers how I always come prepared.
It’s been on my mind as much as it’s been on hers. Maybe more. I slip on the jimmy, and she widens the gap between her legs. I dive in. The fit is divine, and after the first stroke, goosebumps erupt along my skin. Her wetness coats my dick as she slurps on my bottom lip. I close my eyes, taking deep strokes between her tight walls, demanding me to go harder.
Her moans are music to my ears, brilliant and raw, spirited and longing. I open my eyes to watch her jolt up and down on the bed in a wild rhythm with my pushes. Her legs wrap around me like a sloth on a tree. She doesn’t want to let go, and why would she when her pussy feels more like a home years later than a playground.
“Get it out of your system. Just this…once!” She yelps as I release.
Her hands latch onto my shoulders, and she tugs at them like a little beast as I exhale, burrowing my face into her neck.
“Never…never again.” She moans, sweetly like a fucking liar.
She pushes me off her, pushing her dress back down. I rise before I head to her bathroom to take off the condom. When I return, she has her bedroom door open, eagerly waiting for my exit. Her eyes, docile but determined, cut at me as I try to peck her cheek.
¨Get out, please.¨ She states and I obey.
Waking up with a slight crook in my neck, I take a quick warm shower to work out its kinks. Early hours this morning felt like a dream, a wild brief fantasy, but it wasn’t. I keep replaying the snug, excited joy her pussy exclaimed when I entered her. It’s a quarter to noon when I head downstairs to the kitchen. There’s no sign of Micola, although her bedroom door was open.
Rosemary, my British chef, has breakfast setup. I’m not a fan of English breakfasts, so I requested crepes and salmon lox, which I remember Micola loves. I enjoy it, too, so both our bellies will be happy, but by the looks of things, I’m the first one to touch them.
