Henrico County, Virginia
Sunday Morning
He stared at his laptop screen, at the blank Word document. He’d been staring at the blank document for the better part of a half an hour. Shit.
She came into the room. He looked at her, appreciating the way her long tee-shirt hugged her curves. She leaned and gave him a kiss on the cheek and asked, “How’s it going?”
Apparently she thought he was writing in white text on a white background. “It’s not going,” he said. “I’m trying to think of a simple, short, sexy story to post on my blog, and I’ve got nothing.”
“What about the next part of the story about that candy that makes people horny? That was good, baby. I want to know what happens next.”
“I wrote some, but I’m thinking about saving that for a book,” he said.
“I just wanted to post something new this weekend – something short but hot. But I’ve got nothing.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
He shrugged. “It’s no big deal. It’s not like I’m getting paid to post online. Hey, it's a nice day. Maybe I need to get out, get some air. I’m thinking we can drive across the border into Carolina, go to that place in Murfreesboro I told you about and pig out on some country barbecue.”
“Okay. What time do you want to leave?” He was thinking about leaving around one o’clock. It was a two hour drive to Murfreesboro. That would get them there before the restaurant – Walter’s Grill – closed. That little town rolled up the sidewalks at five p.m. on Sundays. And he knew her. She was never ready on time. She’d warned him when they met that if he wanted her to be ready at a certain time, to give her a deadline an hour earlier. So he said, “Let’s leave around noon.”
“Okay, I’m going to get ready.” She turned to leave the room, but then turned back to him. “Do you see any red spots? I feel a little irritated where I shaved yesterday.” She pulled her tee-shirt up around her waist.
He looked. He forgot her question. He just looked. She swam a lot, so she kept herself trimmed and shaved to accommodate the cut of her bathing suits. He gazed at the swell of her mound, and at the barely visible cleft of her sex beneath dark hair. He thought about grabbing a camera and taking a photo…of making this tempting vision his desktop wallpaper.
She said his name.
“Huh?”
“Do you see any redness?”
“Oh, um, no, baby.”
“It itches.”
He looked up at her. Warm, bedroom eyes. Soft, kissable lips. So pretty. “Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?”
She smiled and said, “Okay.”
He spun his desk chair to face her and leaned to her. The fragrance of whatever she’d used in the shower this morning filled his senses. He kissed a smooth, tender spot just outside the downy softness of her trimmed hair.
She breathed out a soft, “Mmm…”
“Is that better?” he asked.
“It still itches, honey. I think it’s more than one spot.”
He kissed his way around her shaved area. She sighed and rotated her hips in time to his lips pressing into her plump flesh.
“Better?” he asked again.
“It still itches. I need more.”
“Hmm…it seems to me that the itching is internal. I need a better angle to reach the spot of irritation. You need to lie down so I can reach it.”
“Okay, if you think that’s what I need.” She turned away and left the room. He followed her to the bedroom, watching as she peeled her tee-shirt off on the way.
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She sighed and moaned as he licked his way up through her wetness, parting her plumpness to gather her nectar as he made his way up to her sensitive bud. He flicked his tongue over it. She groaned and writhed on the bed. He closed his lips over it and sucked gently. She grasped at his head and cried out her pleasure. He slid a finger into her silken heat, and then two, seeking out that spot. He found it and stroked it gently. He sucked and stroked her orgasm out of her.
When she’d caught her breath and could hear him again he said, “You know, I think the problem is that this irritation…this itch of yours…is internal. You need deeper penetration and probing to properly scratch it.”
“Oh, so that’s your official diagnosis?”
“Yes it is.”
“Do you have the proper instrument to properly penetrate and probe?”
“Actually, I do,” he said. He moved up over her and positioned himself against her flowing heat. “Now you might feel some pressure…maybe some stretching during this process,” he said. “But it shouldn’t be painful.”
“Not even a little bit?”
“Well, that depends on how bad your itch is. If it requires some hard probing, you might feel some.”
“The itch is really bad.” He smiled and pushed slowly. She opened her legs wider and he felt her yield, accepting. The hot, slick, electrifying friction of penetration made him throb his pleasure. He felt her pulsate around him, felt the core of her femininity respond to his manhood. Every time with her was like a first time. Every time was ecstasy rediscovered.
As he found the deepest, sweetest part of her she moaned his name and sighed, “Yes…that’s the spot.” He reached beneath her and clutched her bottom. He pulled her closer and starting scratching her itch.
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Afterward they lay together…holding each other… touching each other…kissing. He glanced at the clock. It was almost noon. If they were still going to Walter’s Grill they’d have to hustle to get ready. Then he’d have to destroy the speed limit on I-95.
Or, they could stay in bed all day.
“How do you feel, babe?” he asked.
“Much better. Thank you for the treatment.”
“Absolutely my pleasure. But you know for this treatment to work properly it has to be administered frequently, until there are no more symptoms.”
“That might take a long time…years, maybe.”
“Cool with me.”
“So how’s your writer’s block? Do you have any ideas yet for a short sexy story you can post today?”
He kissed her soft lips. Then he smiled and said, “Nope. I’ve got nothing.”
© 2009
Christopher Bynum
www.christopherbynum.com
