Fine Dining (Erotic Prose)

We never liked it kinky or weird.

We always did it straight.

Missionary.  Cowgirl.  A reverse or two.

Bed.  Bath.  Living room couch.

But since that night…

Since I spiced it up and you went along for the trip…

I see a little more smirk in your smiles!

Each time we clean the dishes off the dining room table, you smile.

I smile, too.

It’s our secret.

You liked it on the dining room table, didn’t you darling?

You liked getting wild in the place where the family gathers for big meals.

It was dangerous, because we had that shade open.

But you went for the ride of your life with me on the dining room table.

You…  Lying back…  Right down the middle of the table,

Your body naked, your manhood full and thick and eager.

Your eyes blaze as I climbed up and straddle you.

My eyes blaze with lust for your prone body.

I wear the crotchless teddy you picked up just for me…

And those platform stilettos you ogle, but deny get you hot.

I lower myself, slowly, seductively.

I take you in my hand…

Crouching over your crotch…

Steadying myself with my palm to your naked chest…

I feel you there, pressing into me.

I want you in me so badly, but I am taking my time.

I am teasing.  I am grinning.  I am denying.

You are twitching.  You are pulsing.  You are pushing.

You become the aggressor and grab my hips!

I finish my fall, taking you in deeply, and I scream with laughter.

We enjoy that laugh together, but not for long.

I fall to your chest and kiss you, but not for long.

Soon, I will be back up on my feet, crouching, steadying, impaled on your flesh,

Our bodies will join in a sensuous, profane mission.

To make each other rattle and shake,

And then to lie together in our bed and dream about our time on the dining room table.

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