My hair spills down my back, damp tendrils of curl wildly dancing around my face as humid night slides across my flushed skin and the warm breath of summer breathes hot along the dark road which stretches ahead of the gambolling dogs. I walk the night and gaze up at the sliver of moon which hangs low on the horizon, golden light glowing in the glimpse into the world beyond.
My body feels swollen and fecund, breasts loose under the thin material of my summer dress, engorged, nipples distended and clearly delineated. Skin bared by the skimpy dress stings slightly in the slight breeze which ruffles a slight relief across my moist skin, and I smile as I recall past pleasure. I look about but the night is mine and the shrouded misty street is empty. I reach into the bodice and cup the warm, plump flesh then sighing, release first one, then the other breast to jounce slightly, their slight weight freed from the meagre constraint of cotton, the soft flesh bared to the gloaming night.
I look down and see the pale flesh glow in the refracted light of streetlamps, the nipples dark and swollen. A bruise blooms on the inner curve of my left breast and when I run my fingers gently over the darkened flesh, a slight ache brings a twinge between my thighs.
Slipping into the house a little later, my flesh contracts, the tiny hairs on my arm stiffening as the air conditioning blows cool against my humid flesh. I slip into the dark room, the hiss of the air conditioner breathing in the background as I kneel on the bed, sheets cool beneath my knees.
Barely touching, I pull the sheet down his body and shiver as his unique scent drifts through the cool of the room, an atavistic response to a scent as familiar to me as my own. I lean, breasts hanging, falling from my rib cage, nipples yearning toward the warm, sleeping flesh. I breathe along the length of his body until I reach the sweet juncture of his groin where his length lies quiescent along one strong thigh.
Opening my lips I exhale along the tender, soft flesh, tongue trailing, barely touching its salty tip. I nestle my mouth into the juncture of thighs and tightening my lips push against his loose scrotum, then lick strongly along the perineum. In the light which drifts from the hallway, my eyes gleam in the dusk of the room and watch as he stirs and smile as the soft flesh jerks and shivers.
My fingers dance between his thighs and I hear him sigh and breasts trembling, I follow my eyes to his humid cock and envelop his length in my warm mouth, lips sealing. I feel his flesh jerking and lengthening, hardening as my tongue probes and licks and my mouth suckles at his root, pulling it up and out from the tender, delicate flesh of his scrotum.
His breath catches in the quiet of the room and then quickens as my mouth works rhythmically, my tongue dancing lightning quick around the pulsing length, dipping and rimming the sweet hooded tip, lapping, cheeks hollowing as I pull him deep into my throat. My other hand captures my breast which jounces as my head bobs and I squeeze it reflexively, my fingers indenting its smooth freckled flesh.
Not yet ritual yet comfort and a sweet sensuous moment in a chaotic life of demand and need and reluctant, sighing, my lips loosen and I slowly release his throbbing length to lie solid against his belly and gently, delicately, drop butterfly kisses along its length and up the warm torso and nestle into the crook of his neck and pull his scent deep.
Sighing, I rise and crawl off the bed to face my day, leaving him slumbering and dreaming dulcet dreams of creamy thighs and warm mouths.