October 11, 2007
Sex for a Wise Guy
She made Turkish coffee for me, dark and thick, like her ass. I'm not saying her coffee reminded me of her ass, although they both made my heart race and left a funny taste on my tongue. Maybe I am saying her coffee reminded me of her ass. Certainly seems to be what I'm saying. No sense in being mealy-mouthed about it, although both left a mealy taste in my mouth.
She made me a cup of ass, dark and thick, like her coffee. No, I was right the first time.
And she hated when I put sugar in it. Her coffee not her ass. She didn't mind if I put sugar in her ass because she knew I was about to make a meal out of it.
So, she gave me the fish-eye when I asked her for sugar and I told her that the fish-eye would not make my coffee any sweeter but the sugar might help. She was getting fucking well sick of me, that's for sure, and she slammed the sugar cup down in front of me.
"You're going to ruin it," she said.
"Look, you've made a marvelous cup of coffee for me and I love you for it. I'm just trying to make it palatable so I can choke it down. I could also use some milk and some powdered chocolate, maybe a little nutmeg, a cinnamon stick, a couple of ice cubes, a little umbrella.."
She sprang over the kitchen counter and knocked me to the ground. She had a few pounds on me, literally, and she knew how to use them. She was pissed at me, but that turned her on and as we wrestled she pulled me inside of her, which was a good trick because I don't remember my pants coming off. She liked rough sex and I don't, but I do like sex so I take it any way I can get it.
The whole thing was over in no time and not because of me. She knew right where her own buttons were, pushed them immediately, gave herself two quick orgasms, and then demanded I hurry up and come because the coffee was getting cold. Not the kind of pressure most guys like but I'm fine with it. Brevity in thought, word and deed, that's what I say. Well, not out loud. But I do think it. Briefly.
We sat naked on her hardwood floors, drinking coffee, and I reached for the sugar. She gave me the fish-eye until I told her it was not destined for the coffee.
No sense in being mealy-mouthed about it.
copyright 2007 john bizarre
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