I’m pouring the tea. M doesn’t even glance up from the paper. “Your period started.” A flat statement. How did he----? Ah, yes. The pink wrapper in the bathroom bin.
I shrug. “It’s early. I don’t like it either, you know.”
He’s put out. Tinkles his spoon mechanically. After a long weekend of company, he was looking forward to catching up. Buttering my toast. I turn to the horoscopes, chuckle between mouthfuls. “Listen to this: you should expect to reap rewards from the unexpected.”
He sniffs skeptically. Passing the marmalade. Behind the wall of paper I smile.
Family is about, so points and times of ambush must be planned carefully. No turning him from the dishes and dropping to my knees, tugging at his zipper. No nosing into his crotch on the couch, bitch in heat.
I know. Let him wake up tomorrow morning to my mouth appropriating his cock. Just the way I like it, crammed all soft and sleepy inside. I can stroke and suck him slowly awake. Feel him lift and harden on my tongue, pry my jaw open, press upon my palate.
No quickie, this. There will be bag-licking, ball-sucking. I'll make him ache for me to go lower. Deeper. He'll rear rigid and throbbing to his navel, sleek and hard and dark-red as mahogany, slick with spit and polish. Elbow-grease. Tongue-buffing.
The rewards will be mine to reap. Swift jets of hot, thick cream.
Stirring my tea. I won't tell him I made up the horoscope.
*****************Feeling: like walking under ladders Listening to: I'm Lucky, Joan Armatrading |