Sweet Convictions

by Elizabeth, C.

  “Fuck!” she shouts.

  “Shhh.”

  She pulls apart the moist folds of her vulva exposing her clit even more and lifts her hips into the air in the hope she can get even closer to the vibrating pleasures of my toy. She’s doing butt lifts, up and down, up and down trying to fuck the little oval device. Shifting myself into full throttle control mode, I taunt her and pull it away.

  “You want to be fucked do you?” I ask rhetorically as I turn off the buzzing and drop it onto the floor.

  “Yes, I want to be fucked hard,” Celia corroborates.

  I lift both her legs into the air and push them as far back as they go to the sides of her head. Shitting hell she’s agile. I then squat over flexi-Celia as I position my pussy in line with hers and ride her like a cantering horse. She sighs and moans again and I place my hand over her mouth as I fuck her faster before reaching an incredibly explosive climax for a second time. My thighs are on fire so I selfishly collapse backwards onto my bum. My body trembling and weak, my legs shaky. That’s got to have been the equivalent of at least a hundred consecutive squats!

  “Shit, that was fucking astronomical!” she conveys as she leans over to the side to find the egg and forcibly snatches it into her hand. She switches it on and finishes herself off as I watch encouragingly.

  Unbelievably timely, the power returns and we both scramble guiltily to our feet.

  “Right, so you wanted the dark correct?”

  “Er, yes, please. Thank you.” We laugh.

  I smile and watch as her shaking hands spill the solution over the sides of the bottle. We giggle as she switches on the spray gun and squirts the chocolate-coloured solution onto my naked pounding body. The coldness goes straight to my head and completely sequesters my breath. I feel disorientated and at the same time, it’s welcoming and somewhat invigorating after the rather searing moment we’ve just shared.

  Just over an hour later, I pull up to the flat and look down at my watch. Another couple hours to go. I can’t even drink away the time as I don’t want to be completely hammered when he turns up. I’d like to be nicely unperturbed and less of a jibbering fool but not smashed outa my head. What a complete nightmare that would be. I’ve even told Mark to have a few beers on the coach or he’s going to be a bundle of nerves when he gets here. He’s already text me to tell me how shaky and nauseas he is. Ah, such wonderful effects I have on a man. Poor pooch.

  Another hour of pissing about the flat whilst scaring my cats shitless with the acute darkness of my body and clear glow-in-the-dark whiteness of my eyes and teeth, avoiding touching walls or sitting on the sofa or anywhere for that matter; I finally hop into the shower and wash off the residue of the spray tan solution and of course any evidence of sexual shenanigans from earlier. I’m soon a gorgeous bronzed goddess.

  I apply a fresh layer of make-up accentuating my eyes by going for a cats eyes look as I draw a thick slanted line of black eye-liner across the length of each eye lid. I then brush on loads of dark silver-grey eye shadow onto the top and underneath my eyes before finishing off with moistening my lips with a pink shimmering lip-gloss. I slip into a light pink and white lace lingerie set, a white t-shirt and blue jeans. God I look good!

  Chapter 13

  It’s just gone eight fifteen. He’ll be here any time now. I’ve been pacing holes into my floors—back and forth from the sensually candle-lit lounge to the twinkling fairy-light decorated kitchen window. Oh god, are the candles too much? Maybe I’ve gone over the top a bit. Shit. It’s too late to worry now. He’s here!

  A bottle of red for me, Mark’s five hour coach/one hour train and fifteen minute cab journey later and I see him pulling up outside my flat. My heart flutters...or stops – I can barely tell the difference anymore. The build up over the week has left me so overwhelmed by it all that I’ve completely lost control of my own feelings. I guess the wine isn’t helping either. Or maybe it is. My tummy is churning like a tumble dryer of emotions. I quickly shoot into the bedroom and lightly spray myself with my very own aphrodisiac; Narciso Rodriguez - my signature scent. Mmm, sex in a bottle.

  I barge out the front door, trip over the step, instantly hurting my ankle before stopping momentarily still to recover. Already injured and in slight agony, I watch over at the taxi and limply scuttle down the two flights of stairs to greet him. I step outside and wait impatiently on the dark cement pathway that leads up to my building. He’s paying the driver. I still can’t see him properly. When the hell are these council bastards going to sort the outside lighting?! Oh god what if we don’t click physically? What if his photos are better than the real thing? Worse! What if I’m just better off as a still image? This entire trip could be a waste of his time and money. Shit, fuck, bollocks! My heart pounds like a bass drum. I’m overcome by fear and even more so by guilt.

  I feel as if I’m blindfolded driving a speed boat across the open seas, almost positively sure I won’t go hurtling into anything in such a vast space but still there’s that niggling doubt that something could appear from nowhere and I’ll crash to my death. Fear of the unknown.

  Finally, I see a shadow of a head briefly appear from the other side of the car. For fuck sake, turn around and face me. He shuts his door then opens the back one. His head disappears again as he leans in to collect his bag from the rear seat. I close my eyes in anticipation and when I open them next, he’s standing at the edge of the path looking and smiling in my direction. He’s beautiful. His eyes are glistening and his grin is friendly and enchanting. I can tell he’s really made an effort and just had a new hair cut. Bless him. I melt in his presence and return the smile.

  He drops his bags onto the ground and we simultaneously meet in the middle immediately enfolding ourselves in each other’s arms. He’s well built and towers over me. I feel safe. Butterflies are fluttering frantically inside my belly.

  My heart is triggered into a gallop and feels as if it’s about to burst into flames. In fact, both our hearts are racing so hard they beat into one another’s chests. He promptly pulls back, looks deeply into my eyes and kisses me. I literally have never been kissed with such meaning, such passion and such want before. It’s as if a violently beautiful ballet is being performed in my tummy – theatrical, dazzling, breathtaking, exhilarating, enchanting, complex, dexterous and yet ferociously mellifluous. Everything around us is spinning and yet we’re as still as death. Every second of every moment is absolutely magical. It’s as though we’re the only two people in the universe, never mind just in my street. Everything decelerates and it feels as if we’re moving in slow motion. Right there and then feels like the past, present and future all rolled into one. It’s euphoric and everything becomes so clear.

  “Hi,” I finally manage as I take his hand and lead him upstairs into the flat. We walk straight into the flickering fairy-lit kitchen and he places his bag onto the counter before looking over at me. I watch him as I lean my bum against the dishwasher, arms crossed.

  “Puzzle,” I tease softly.

  “Oh shit, really?” he asks scared stiff. His eyes widen and his face becomes an ashen white, like water mixed into flour.

  “Ah hun I’m only joking. No not at all. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I can be very evil sometimes.”

  “Fuck, are you sure?”

  “I’m 100% sure. I’m extremely happy with the man standing in front of me. I’m so excited and I’m so sorry. It’s just the wine that makes me become vindictively playful.”

  “As long as you’re sure,” he says thankfully before turning to scrounge around the bottom of his bag pulling out a blue box.

  “I’ve brought you a little gift. Just something small and silly.”

  “Really? You really didn’t have to do that. But oh my god I love surprises!”

  I lift the lid. It’s filled to the brim with soft shredded paper. Purple, my favourite colour. Ah bless him he remembered. Inside there’s a cute fluffy teddy bear and a gorgeous poem in the most beautiful handwriting
I have ever seen. The writing alone is artistic never mind the poem which equally is beautifully angelic and sentimentally heart-rending. I read it as I hug the teddy.

  It kind of feels like floating on a still and calm sea

  A soft summer breeze carrying me to complete uncertainty

  It’s a voyage of total peace; there is no doubt or apprehension

  Drifting me on a plotted course where my soul has found ascension

  A fortune teller once told of things that were yet to come

  With scepticism and doubt, I thought it superstition

  I hoped but never thought that this premonition would become

  An accurate portrayal of pure and true fruition

  My heart has been taken over, I feel like it has wings

  There is no more hurt or fear, my faith has been restored

  My heart has stopped its weeping and now instead it sings

  I feel I’ve found my soul mate of whom I completely adore

  I thank the heavens above for a creation of such perfection

  To have a heart so pure and true through divine intervention

  It’s simply now, my heart and should have found the true connection

  My faith is back; I value life and know my new direction

  I feel the corners of my eyes crinkle and tears of sentiment and relief that I have finally found someone so unbelievably lovely, unexpectedly sting through and stubbornly begin to stream down my cheek. Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. I discreetly dab the moisture away and continue reading.

  I should really stop being soppy and writing total mush

  I’ve been waiting at the start line and now have that driving push

  These aren’t just words to say how much I care on this momentous day

  I hope that when you read this I will get to see you smile

  I think finally life has dealt me the best cards of the pile

  But if you turn out psycho, I would probably run a mile

  I never really wanted to be a guest on Jeremy Kyle

  I chuckle softly at the end but the warm salty droplets are still overpowering.

  “Oh my god did you really write this?”

  “Yep,” he smiles proudly yet shyly.

  “You made it up and you physically wrote these words onto this piece of paper? You? Yourself?” I question.

  “I promise, it’s all me. Do you like it?”

  “Do I like it? Hun, the poem is so beautiful and I love my new little fluffy. Thank you so much, and sorry for being so stupid with the tears and all. I just wasn’t expecting anything as beautiful as this.”

  “It’s fine. I’m just glad you like it. I was starting to regret that I was being a bit cheesy and overly brazen.”

  “Not at all, it’s perfect,” I assure him.

  “And I reeeally love my teddy.”

  “Well, then hopefully you’ll like this too.” He pulls out a frame with a picture that he himself has drawn. It’s a portrait of me; well, a caricature.

  “Oh my god, it’s me. It’s absolutely stunning,” I squeal in a somewhat high octave. He actually went out and bought a frame to bring with him on his trip and then drawn it all just from memory of my photograph whilst on the coach down to me. Bleeding hell, I mean I’ve seen some of his art on the network we share but didn’t realise just how brilliant he really is. His work is exquisite; so precise and imaginative. I’m instantly inspired into wanting to restart my sketches.

  “Your enthusiasm is so endearing. I love how you get excitable over small things.”

  I bet really he’s thinking calm down you nut-case.

  I thank him and hug him, his entire body still trembling. We kiss some more. Then I pour him some wine and we make our way into the seductive comfort of the living room. It’s heated with vanilla scented candles disbursed around the room burning and flickering on every surface I could fit them onto – book shelves, floating shelves, the TV unit, tables, window sills. You name it! Actually, on looking at it again, it’s as if we’ve just walked into a Catholic church. I quickly blow out a few. Too warm. Too bright. Far too holy.

  I sniff in the rich smoke as I take in the sweet bouquet of deadened flames, burnt wicks and melted wax. God, I love that smell. There’s nothing better than the sharp spicy scent of blown out candles. Okay, well maybe the smell of fresh coffee, or newly baked bread, or smoky bacon. Ooh and fried onions. And garlic mushrooms. Oh stop!

  My stomach grumbles; probably a concoction of nerves and an immediate hunger for a crispy bacon and caramelised onion and cranberry sauce sandwich. Toasted.

  I snap out of my food trance and place my drink down on the one and only candle-free area of the coffee table.

  “Here, let me move some of these away. I know, I know, I tend to overdo things sometimes. It’s the overexcited little girl in me who didn’t have much when I was a kid,” I say blushing at how over the top I’ve gone.

  “No not at all. It’s lovely. Thank you for going all out. It’s very much appreciated, honestly.”

  “Okay then.”

  Three hours of non-stop blabbering, a load of wine and laughing, two wee runs and many avid kisses later, we agree to move into the bedroom. I neutralise the remaining flames before collecting another bottle of Malbec from the kitchen and we make our way into the softly lit room. No candles, just a few twig lights in the corner and some dusky bamboo rattan lights strung across the headboard of the bed.

  The cats scatter from the black satin duvet and I brush away their loose fur before turning on the CD player to the sensual sounds of Marvin Gaye. Who wouldn’t like a bit of Marv-romance in this sort of circumstance? First meeting, first sexual encounter. I have a few sexy get-us-in-the-mood tunes lined up, opening with the slightly slower, more romantic, less frantic fuck-me-senseless ones like Feel Like Making Love, Slow Hand, Do That To Me One More Time, All I Wanna Do Is Make Love To You. Later they speed up to songs like Pour Some Sugar on Me, then easing into hard rock and metal, Seether’s Fuck Me Like You Hate me to comprising my all time favourite fuck-song Tainted Love, the racier Marilyn Manson version, successively followed by The Dope Show and Sweet Dreams, also Manson style.

  He obviously can’t wait anymore and approaches me from behind as I fiddle with the sound levels on the stereo. Don’t wanna piss off my neighbours. I feel his hard on probing at the top of my thigh as he presses it firmly against me. Holy ball-bags, it feels the size of a large leg of lamb! He draws my hair away from my neck and kisses and sucks at the side as my neck hairs stand on edge.

  I feel goose bumps pop up all over my body. I try to steady my legs from caving in. His touch sends shock waves through my entire body. I feel weak and limp yet still somehow extremely energized. I stretch my arms to behind his ass and I run my hands along his firm buttocks as I uncomfortably turn my neck to meet his lips. I squeeze his tensed ass cheeks and I feel him flex his rock hard butt even more. Still facing forward, I manoeuvre my hands to behind my back and place them on his front. With slight initial difficulty I begin to unbuckle his thick leather belt. He moves in to assist but I decline and push his arms to his sides. I will do this damn it.

  Using both hands I undo each of the four buttons on his jeans with a hard sideward swoop and a yank. I feel his taut erection behind the uncomfortably tight confines of his cotton shorts. I relax my left arm to my side as I twist my right wrist and stroke up and down against his hard on as he groans, still kissing and nipping at my neck.

  Briskly and tremendously, he swivels me around to face him and kisses me forcefully, relentlessly. Our tongues swirling frantically around one another’s mouths.

  Our lips still pressed against the other’s and I inhale deeply to absorb a fusion of cigarette and aftershave. I become drunk on his scent. The influence of sharp blends of citrus and woody spice evokes in me a sense of tranquillity and timeless freedom. Eyes still shut tight and still kissing passionately, I flare my nostrils to take in even more of him as I become lost in his trenchant aroma.

&nb
sp; Seconds later, I reawaken from my spellbound interlude and I lift his jumper over his head, giving my lips a second’s rest before he comes back in for more. I unbutton his shirt as he pulls mine over my head. I tug the long sleeves down his arms pushing it backwards and let it fall to the floor. Oh friggin heck, another layer. A black and white picture of Johnny Cash holding out his middle finger at me pops out and I laugh as I start to hoist up his v-neck.

  “Oh cheers. So that’s what you think of me do ya?” I kid as Mark looks down.

  “Oh shit, I didn’t exactly put much thought into that did I?”

  “It’s brilliant, I’m just playing with you. Johnny’s great!”

  I continue to remove JC as he brings his arms back down and around me fiddling about with the clasp with clear intentions of confiscating my bra. Instead he has difficulty and leans in to tease and nip at my nipple through the lace. His cock now creating a tipi with his underpants and its tip jabbing into my pelvis. Fuck me, that is long.

  I extend the elastic of his shorts slightly and pull them slowly down over his noticeably throbbing cock, freeing it from its grey cotton sheath. It bobs up and down enthusiastically a few times, hypnotising me before coming to its stiff horizontal attention. It’s absolutely beautiful. It truly is a magnificent looking cock; mightily voluptuous in every way. Who knew I’d ever actually consider a cock could be so marvellously bewitching. I can’t take my eyes off of it. Not only is it the perfect size – around eight inches of erect bliss, with a perfectly plump girth, but it’s light pink in colour, blemish-free, not unattractively veiny but veiny enough to unmistakably detect his suggestive exuberance pumping through it. And to top it all off, he’s taken the time to trim. He’s exceptionally well endowed. And clean. Can’t get any better than this.