Monday, August 28, 2006

Fiction - Feast

I love watching you bathe yourself while you shower. Your body glistens under the single light bulb hanging from the ceiling while the shadows crawl over your skin, leaving much to the imagination.

Your inner exhibitionist loves my quiet moans and fervent attention. You take your time, showing only bits and pieces through a flimsy shower curtain. I keep my hands clenched at my side as your fingers runs down your chest.

Oh, that chest.

I see your breasts clothed and unclothed all the time, but I never tire of your flesh. Whether covered by a simple t-shirt on a lazy Sunday afternoon, given ample exposure by a low-cut gown when we take in a night at The Met, or pushed up to my face by that black corset I love so much, I never get enough of your chest. Never.

I'm nota morning person, but I wake up before you so I can feel your abundant flesh press against my bare chest while you sleep. How often have you woken up to my tender lips sucking slowly on your nipples? How many times have you tried to push me away, only to find that your body is eagerly responding to my ministrations?

You don't push me away any more, do you?

All these thoughts cram through my head as your palm cups your breast in the dim light. I imagine, not see, the water droplets falling off your nipple, one-by-one. I stand quickly, and push the shower curtain to the side.

I walk into the shower and feel my black pants turn blacker from the water. I sink to my knees, look up to you and pray.

My mouth opens as you bend over and feed me your lust, your depravity, your chest... my need. My eyes close in rapture as your breast enters my mouth and I feast on you.

-- The Bastard
Posted by The Bastard :: 12:58 AM :: 3 comments

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