*Sneaks in* *Clears throat* *Finds a chair or table or random solid furniture item to hide behind*
It's been so long, I wonder if anyone remembers these CMs. I can't remember posting in my own thread for like, forever, I've almost forgotten how to do an update.
To
Foomatic,
sadie,
Elvis,
Roz,
Emmy,
Sallypants,
Car (who wasn't writing to me actually),
Cyd (who was),
Grace,
Irene "fajita",
tk,
maru,
beanie,
LtSticks,
snarky Mary,
HalfCamel and
hoMary, I thank all of you for reading and feedbacking. My bad for not replying and not adding another one for so long.
I was re-reading these CMs and what struck me was the fact that when I started writing them I didn't drink coffee. Even now it's generally only one soy latte a day and only if I get dragged downstairs to Starbucks by my colleague. Why I started writing short stories with coffee as theme, that's yet another piece in the complex puzzle that is me. It's like I'm taking on something that is familiar, yet certain aspects of it is completely unknown to me, and I don't know if I'll succeed. Indulge me, I like to laugh at myself, and yes ... overthinky.
*****
Title: Coffee Moods
Author: watson (
hiddenwatson@gmail.com)
Distribution: please email me first
Rating: PG to NC-17, see individual entries for rating
Disclaimer: BtVS characters, concepts and dialog belong to Mutant Enemy, Fox, The WB, UPN and others. The stories contained here are of a personal nature, non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes.
Summary: Thoughts and frivolities in a coffee sort of way.
~~~~~
Coffee Moods #7: HeatwaveSummary: The mercury surged emphatically past 100 that night we told each other our fantasies.
Rating: NC-17
Afterwards, at home, we looked through the photographs while you archived them into neat hierarchical folders on your Powerbook, and I picked out the ones I wanted to print and display in my scrapbook. You commented on how you could tell from the photos how hot it was — the heat shimmering above the fine sand, the roll of angry, boiling water as the waves pounded the shore, and the noonday sun making everything a shiny white.
Our first vacation together, we came back with absolutely no doubts.We took it easy, those two weeks in the tiny rented apartment with no air-conditioning, temperamental pipes but oh so brimming with character. We slept in a lot, ate our meals on the balcony overlooking the beach. When we ventured out, it would be to the village café or to the secluded shade of the trees at the top end of the beach. Or you might hop out and buy me the most beautiful flowers and we'd put them in the little porcelain vase with the chip at the lip.
I watched you pottering around the apartment, your oversized cotton shirt flowing freely behind you with every movement. You would make a large jug of iced coffee, or iced tea with mint and lime (Mrs George's special recipe), and we'd have something to enjoy all day. I could see your bare breasts, your hips and hints of red at the apex of your thighs. I wished you would unbutton the shirt a little more, I knew that was all you were wearing. I wanted to jump up from my comfortable armchair and unbutton them personally, but somehow convinced myself to wait till it was night.
For most of the day, we'd do very little, making a conscious effort to relax, or talk, or just hold each other close. There was no need, and it was too hot, to do anything else. It was the type of thick humid heat that left us feeling sticky even after a shower.
The sultry heat from the daytime turned into a stifling, dense blanket at night. We kept the French doors open and allowed the moonlight to stamp its dominance inside the bedroom. Remnants of the day's heat lingered, even the steady rotation of the overhead fan could not chase it away.
We slept unencumbered. Just a thin sheet covering our bare bodies, not for protection or warmth, merely a habit.
We were opening up to each other too. Having eagerly snapped up and stored away every tidbit about family, school grades and ticklish spots, it was time to delve onto deeper territory.
The mercury surged emphatically past 100 the night we told each other our fantasies.
I told you about mine, painting a vivid picture of an oppressively dark city full of people running scared, of the chaos and degradation that blanketed the entire fantasyscape. I imagined a larger than life version of me, swooping in to save the world. And as reward my adoring subjects would give up complete control of their lives, their bodies and their pleasures to me, and they would call me Mistress. Typical fantasies of a girl with self-confidence issues, it took me a good few minutes and much stuttering to fully describe the scenario.
"I want to watch you, I want to watch you make yourself come, you're so beautiful when you come," you said simply.
For a second I felt myself stiffen. I wondered if you knew what you were asking, but realized it didn't matter. I looked into the eyes of the woman I loved, the woman I was willing to give my life, my heart and my soul to, and realized you would do the same for me. When that look finished, my vulnerabilities dissolved and I nodded imperceptibly.
I silently asked for, and was promptly rewarded with, a smile so open, so generous. You leaned over and kissed me deeply, our mouths as open as we communicated our need.
With a tender trace over my arms, you rolled me over on my back and slid your way slowly down my body, making sure the tips of our breasts touched. I could feel your touch, as hot as the night outside, scorching over my equally heated skin.
I opened my legs and you knelt between my knees, like an eager child waiting for heaven. You gave me a grin so salacious that I felt my breath hitch and my insides flare up with desire.
I had never felt so sexy, so sensuous. Watching you, watching me.
You didn't touch me apart from a firm but soft grip to hold my legs wide apart, all the time watching my increasingly uncontrollable sensuality overcome my fears.
I felt like a blank canvas, lying there naked, legs spread, arms stretched out above my head, my breasts peaking proudly. I was sure you could smell my arousal. I closed my eyes and imagined the blank canvas sitting on an easel in the afternoon sun. And then I filled the canvas with passion, and devotion, and lust. Because I could see your passion for me, I could feel my devotion for you and I could almost reach out and taste the lust we shared.
One hand in my mouth, my teeth biting down hard against a knuckle as the other reached down. My fingers paused briefly before reaching in and stretching my outer lips open. I alternated between hard, fast pressure and soft feathery touches, the feeling of my fingers so intense that I couldn't touch the oversensitive nub too hard.
I sensed your intense gaze on me. But instead of embarrassment, it made me more determined to show you, to fulfill
your fantasy.
As I continued to roll my clit around my thumb and fingers, I pushed my middle finger deep inside me. I could feel the silkiness of my muscles, of how easily my finger glided over the smooth frictionless surface, and oh my god how good it felt.
I felt the numbness building very quickly. I relaxed and let my body tell me what it needed but it wasn't long before I felt myself tensing, the tension building until I could no longer contain the feeling washing over me. My muscles spasmed, my head felt light and around my fingers my release detonated like a sudden onslaught of rain and sun and snow and wind.
My back arched high and my legs strained against your hold. The scream I heard didn't sound like it came from me, it was so wild and unrestrained. I shook and shivered, and it was not from the heat.
When I collapsed in a spent heap, you were right there, holding me tight in a warm embrace, stroking my hair until I fell asleep.
When I woke, you were nowhere to be seen.
My first instinct was to panic, but the endorphin rush soon took over and my mind went to the image of you watching me, all wantonly pleasuring myself. I tried to imagine how I looked from your vantage point between my knees, and I felt a blush of embarrassed arousal spreading over me.
The night light was on, the soft blue light casting a small circle of brightness in the darkness of the hot night.
"You're awake baby," you greeted me as you sat a tray down at the bedside table. Iced coffee, I could see the beads of condensation on the glass and feel the ice melting. "Did you sleep well?"
"Very well," I smiled and stretched, earning a droolworthy stare from you. "Was I out long?"
You shrugged. "Only about half an hour, but you were out like a wink," you snapped your fingers to emphasize your point.
For the first time that night I felt myself blushing. "I'm sorry," I mumbled.
"Tara honey, let me tell you how not sorry you should be feeling," you said. "That was so beautiful, you're so beautiful. Thank you for giving this to me."
"Was that really your fantasy? Watching me while I, um, get myself off? What did you fantasize about before you met me?" I asked, lazily tracing small circles on your arms.
"I never really thought about it before I met you. I think my naughtiest fantasies involved me and Xander and chemistry experiments. I was a pretty sexless person, then I met you and I'm like a giant slut."
"You're not a slut, no way am I having a slut for girlfriend," I joked.
"What if I am, and need to be saved?" you said softly, your head bowing slightly in deference.
I sensed the subtle change in your tone and the hidden intention. "Then I'll have no choice but to save you and command you to obey my every whim. You will give up control of your body and pleasure me, just as I pleasure you. Repeatedly," I declared, it was easy to get in character, I had so many restless nights of imagining and planning out this scenario. “Are you ready for that?"
Her breathing became faster and I could hear your faint moan. "Yes," you whispered.
Yes, it was the night we told each other our fantasies. And the night when they became real.
Our first vacation together, and it was being together in all the sense of the word.*****
The End
[br]
Login
FAQ
Search
)
Thank you my dear. "Yummy" and "hot" are great! Makes me feel very yummy and hot inside. 
woah... 
beautiful! hot! it had such a classic feel to it, very 'it happened that night in Monte Carlo'ish 
