|
EmeraldSlave2 -> Before Dinner (10/10/2005 9:38:49 AM)
|
For my Boston partner
She opened the drawer in the kitchen next to the sink and rifled through the silverware tray. She wondered if the spoon and fork monster was the next door neighbor to the sock monster considering that cutlery and socks seemed to both disappear the moment you took your eyes off of them. She finally managed to find a full set of four and put them on top of the plates resting on the countertop.
She moved over to the stove to stir the pot which had been simmering golden potatoes and onions for quite awhile to give the kitchen a warm fresh feel to it. The potatoes were just softening up so she moved the corned beef near the pot to smash it up before letting it become mixed with the ingredients. It would be a perfect starter for a meal after a long chilly, wet day.
He had called earlier to let her know he was bringing over friends from work to enjoy an evening together. Luckily they were close enough friends that whatever she was already planning to make could just be doubled and adding a few extra flourishes to the standard meal would be perfectly suitable. And if she was very lucky she could get him to clean off the table.
As she got out bread and other preparations, she heard the door open and close. He must have managed to miss the worst of the traffic, she thought, and called out “Hi honey, I’m in the kitchen.”
She moved the plates and silverware to the dinner table as she heard him climbing the stairs. She started to say “Glad you made it home in time, do you think Marcie and Greg will be on time for once?” but found herself only able to get to “Glad you made it home-“ before she felt a sudden jerking of her arm and hair and was whirled around to feel him pressing himself down upon her.
He smiled and she relaxed minutely from the sudden reflexes which had been enacted. “Glad I made it home, too” he said with a darkly glowing look in his eyes.
She smiled up at him, pleased at his obvious desire but still mostly thinking over issues like which salt and pepper shakers to set out and whether she should ask him to change for dinner. Before she came to a decision on either of those important questions, Scott pressed his hands onto her arms hard enough for her to gasp out.
He kissed her hard on the mouth. She was startled at the change in pace but her body instinctively moved to follow his own tempo. She was just beginning to enjoy herself when he ripped away from her, spun her roughly again, bumping against the chair at the table and then felt his hand push her back forward so that her forearms and breasts were pressed tightly against the table.
She was breathing hard already; this sort of thing only happened in the movies, but yet her she was in her own dining room. She didn’t fight back, she didn’t move, she didn’t want to do anything that might break the mood or shift in the wrong direction. She didn’t even move her hair which had spilled all around her face when she was shoved forward.
She heard the soft rustle of fabric and then him unzipping his pants. His left hand was still firmly planted on the small of her back. She felt his right hand then slide up her thighs, all the way between her legs. He flipped up the skirt of her green cocktail dress so that her entire bottom was exposed to him. His fingers played on her clit and pussy lips just long enough for a few shooting tingles to go through her body, just long enough to get a physical map of her position. She still didn’t move.
Then he roughly grabbed her hip with his hand, positioned his cock and began to penetrate into her pussy. She was hardly wet at all. She wasn’t the type to go around wet, and it usually took either a concentrated amount of foreplay or a lot of fantasizing through the day on her part to get close to the “dripping down her thighs” mode that all the bodice-rippers were so fond of having.
When she felt his dry cock begin to rub sharply against her own dry parts, she gasped and started to make a sound of protest. This only caused him to increase the pressure intently upon her and to say “You’ll get wet soon enough” and continue as he had before.
It took a few moments, but hard forceful flesh always wins out over soft open holes, even with a bit of extra friction. She felt him pause there for just a moment. Both of them were breathing raggedly at this point. She could see through her hair the pile of plates on the table. She felt the edge of the table pressing against her hips. He had the advantage of height and balance and was going to finish his business.
He paused only for that moment. Once he was sure of his placement both inside and outside of her open wanton body, he did not pause again. Grunting slightly, he would piston his hips backwards and forwards, rolling his hard cock into her open slit. After a half dozen strokes, her biological reactions took hold and she indeed did become very wet which reduced the friction and allowed him to go deeper and faster into her.
He pushed her down harder, making her breath come in and out in tight whistling sounds. He fucked her without purpose, without love, just as a convenient available hole. His breath became more ragged. She was enjoying the feeling of his cock penetrating her, but found the bite of the table painful, it was hard to breath. None of that mattered- not her pleasure or her pain.
The plates on the table chinked softly as he thrust in and out of her, spontaneous accompaniment to their fucking. He pushed in more, an endless beat, the beat that got him off the fastest, one she knew well. Sometimes she got to play with him and slow the beat down. This time she was every bit masturbation fodder for him as a playboy centerfold would be, only there to be used.
In and out his cock went. No special toys, no code words, no fancy positions, nothing but grunts and the tableware giving cause that much of anything was going on at all. And it wasn’t anything much- just a guy giving it to a girl.
He kept giving it, over and over. She heard the ragged breath of his becoming a higher pitch and felt his cock slightly harder inside of her and knew the end was coming. Her own chest was burning inside.
He thrust in the final few times, slower, deeper, more purposed, as he came into her hole. He paused another moment, inside of her still. The plates were silent again. The pressure in her back released itself and she drew in a full deep refreshing breath. Before she could expel it, he had already pulled roughly out of her, walked out of the kitchen and off to his room.
She took a few more breaths to steady herself, straightened her skirt down, brushed her hands through her hair quickly and moved to finish the dinner settings. Her heart was pounding and her pussy was now definitely wet, but she still had to decide which salt and pepper shakers to use.
|
|
|
|
