Written on a whim, it ended up being published...
in Filthy Secrets
in Filthy Secrets
The Lesson.
Silk and lace cascade to the floor. His eyes follow the falling fabric, down her body, across the curves and shadows more perfect than he imagined. Return to her face. Dark eyes meet his. She smiles.
As she steps forward he stammers, “I never…um...this is my first...”
“Shhhh!” A soft fingertip touches his lips as her mouth presses against his ear in a warm, wet whisper. “It’s ok. I’ll teach you. God, I’ve been wanting this. And I know you’ve been watching me. “
He swallows as her finger slides from his lips, traces his smooth chin, runs a slow fingernail down his neck before finding his bare chest. With the electric touch of her palm she pushes him back on the bed, straddles his defenseless form. As he gazes up at her rounded face framed by long, auburn hair, she smiles again, lines and secrets around her eyes, across her cheeks. Before he closes his mouth she kisses him with unexpected, overwhelming force.
She places his hesitating hands upon her and whispers, gentle instructions and affirmations accompanied by movements that rise in tempo until she stiffens and collapses beside him, sweaty and spent.
As she rests, he lies on his side, facing her. His tentative fingers trace small circles across the smoothness of her skin, the soft flesh of her stomach, eager for more. Hoping for more.
She rolls away, pulls a cigarette and lighter from the bedside stand.
She smokes?
He presses himself against her, reveling in her warmth as she inhales deeply and watches the dissipating wisps of gray against the ceiling.
“You are so amazing.” He ignores the bite of the smoke in his lungs, watches red lips draw on the cigarette. He pulls a wayward strand of hair from her eyes.
“You weren’t so bad yourself, stud.” She glances at him then returns to her circles of smoke.
“Really?” He hesitates, then snakes his arm around her shoulders. “You aren’t like the girls my age. You.re, um, so …”
She glances at the red numbers beside the bed, rolls up and away, tosses his jeans at him.
As she disappears into the bathroom, he stares at his nakedness, mumbles, "So, um, when can I ... are we ...?"
She calls above the sounds of water running, “Ok, my husband will be home in an hour. I need to clean up. And you still haven’t cut the grass.”
Silk and lace cascade to the floor. His eyes follow the falling fabric, down her body, across the curves and shadows more perfect than he imagined. Return to her face. Dark eyes meet his. She smiles.
As she steps forward he stammers, “I never…um...this is my first...”
“Shhhh!” A soft fingertip touches his lips as her mouth presses against his ear in a warm, wet whisper. “It’s ok. I’ll teach you. God, I’ve been wanting this. And I know you’ve been watching me. “
He swallows as her finger slides from his lips, traces his smooth chin, runs a slow fingernail down his neck before finding his bare chest. With the electric touch of her palm she pushes him back on the bed, straddles his defenseless form. As he gazes up at her rounded face framed by long, auburn hair, she smiles again, lines and secrets around her eyes, across her cheeks. Before he closes his mouth she kisses him with unexpected, overwhelming force.
She places his hesitating hands upon her and whispers, gentle instructions and affirmations accompanied by movements that rise in tempo until she stiffens and collapses beside him, sweaty and spent.
As she rests, he lies on his side, facing her. His tentative fingers trace small circles across the smoothness of her skin, the soft flesh of her stomach, eager for more. Hoping for more.
She rolls away, pulls a cigarette and lighter from the bedside stand.
She smokes?
He presses himself against her, reveling in her warmth as she inhales deeply and watches the dissipating wisps of gray against the ceiling.
“You are so amazing.” He ignores the bite of the smoke in his lungs, watches red lips draw on the cigarette. He pulls a wayward strand of hair from her eyes.
“You weren’t so bad yourself, stud.” She glances at him then returns to her circles of smoke.
“Really?” He hesitates, then snakes his arm around her shoulders. “You aren’t like the girls my age. You.re, um, so …”
She glances at the red numbers beside the bed, rolls up and away, tosses his jeans at him.
As she disappears into the bathroom, he stares at his nakedness, mumbles, "So, um, when can I ... are we ...?"
She calls above the sounds of water running, “Ok, my husband will be home in an hour. I need to clean up. And you still haven’t cut the grass.”
