When you break down the sentence… #3
“I was supposed to eat the pie, not give a review about it, Maria.” He moves his dick over my mouth, and lightly bumps it against my lower lip. “Open up.” His eyes stare at me intensely.
I open my mouth, and he slides inside.
“Exquisite. Now suck it.” He combs my hair with his fingers and I comply with his request and start sucking him.
A low murmur escapes his throat. I can feel his dick getting bigger. Jan starts to move his hips and doesn’t take his eyes off my mouth.
“You are really good at this.” His breathing speeds up, and with it, his frictional movements. He fucks my mouth more and more violently; his eyes are burning.
I peer at him submissively, letting him find his own rhythm. Desire is building in me. I’m getting wet just from looking at his fiery gaze.
I unbutton my pants and slip my hand into them.
“Pull them down.” Jan stares at my crotch. “I want to watch you pleasure yourself.”
I slide my pants with panties down about my thighs and touch my fingers to my pussy. It is moist and thirsty for caresses. Jan’s cock slides out and into my mouth, and I rub my clitoris. More and more tension builds up in me.
“Put your fingers in.”
I do as he commands, and feel a shiver of pleasure. I let out a muffled moan, giving in to desire, and I fuck myself with my fingers faster and faster.
“Fuck, I can’t hold it anymore.” Unexpectedly, Jan pulls his cock from my mouth, lifts me up and sits me on the table.
The plates fall to the floor with a clatter, but he doesn’t react. He strips me of my pants and panties, spreads my legs and plunges into me with one thrust.
How divine!
I cling to him with my whole body, hide my face in the hollow of his neck and accept him inside me.
His scent, his erotic murmurs, the sweat on his skin, his ever faster movements captivate me and I completely lose myself in this erotic dance.
I want more, I want it harder, and more intensely.
I tighten my vaginal muscles on his hard member, at which Jan growls sensually and thrusts deeper.
He slows, eases out a little, and rams all the way in again.
He speeds up. I feel a wave of pleasure coming on, a shudder runs through me.
“I’m coming,” I gasp into the skin of his neck—and bite it. His skin is soft, salty to the taste, and he smells of a man, of Jan.
“Me too,” he echoes in a muffled voice, and at the same moment his muscles tighten, he freezes…
Simultaneously, we groan in ecstasy as a wave of orgasm hits us. Our bodies pulsate, he inside me, I all around him. We cling to each other motionless in a strong embrace, all tense, euphoric, absorbed blissfully within each other.
I don’t want it to end, it’s wonderful, I’m on cloud nine!
But it does end. Muscles gradually relax, breathing calms down, Jan slowly slides out of me.
“That was my first time,” I whisper in his ear. “I have never climaxed with anyone at the same time.”
“Neither have I,” he replies. “Undeniably, it was a spectacular experience.” He steps back and pulls up his boxers.
I laugh. He and his sublime expressions.
“Jan?”
“Yes?” He zips up his pants.
“Now I’ll hug you, and you hug me, okay?”
He freezes, the muscles of his face tensing.
I pull him by the hand, put my hands on his shoulders and look into his eyes.
It was so good with him. Sexually, we are a match made in heaven.
We just need to work on the compatibility of personalities a little.
But, after all, no one is perfect. And all in all, it would be boring if Jan turned out to be a walking ideal.
We just need to figure some things out and it will be fine.
“I like you,” I confess.
“I like you too, Maria,” he declares without any hesitation.
“So give me a hug, please.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then reaches for my hand and removes it from his arm. I feel a sting of disappointment. It seems that Jan does not want me to touch him. He, however, brings it closer to his lips, kisses it, and then, without a word, embraces me and presses his face into my hair.
My heart softens and melts like vanilla ice cream in the sun. I press my cheek against his chest, hear the rhythmic beating, and sigh loudly because I feel so good now.
“Why are you sighing?” His muffled voice reverberates right next to my ear.
“Because I feel great. Don’t you?”
“It’s not bad.”
“Gosh, what a flattering thing to say. I feel like clapping my ears with joy.”
“Clapping your ears is physically impossible, Maria. Human anatomy is not designed to…”
“Oh, shut up.” I take his face in my hands and kiss him on the lips.
Jan tenses up. He wasn’t expecting a kiss, and I can see that he doesn’t quite know what to do about it. I brush his lips, bite them lightly, slide my tongue over them, and he does nothing. He stands still.
“Something tells me that your erotic life so far has been devoid of cuddles and sweet kisses, huh?” I smile and pull his lower lip with my teeth.
“I prefer a firm touch. No fondling, no cuddling, no brushing, no stroking.”
“And your wife was never bothered by this?” I ask and momentarily regret it.
Jan immediately withdraws.
“My ex-wife,” he corrects. “And I don’t feel like talking about it now.” He glances at his wristwatch. “You have three hours and forty-seven minutes left of your day. How are you going to use them?” he asks to change the subject.
Well, I’ll not press him for more confessions. If he wants to, he’ll tell me himself. Besides, I’m already looking forward to moving on to the next item this evening. First, however, I need to get an answer to a question that has been bothering me.
“How do you rate my pie?”
“Positive.”
“So it wasn’t ‘awful’,” I quote his earlier word.
“No.”
What an effusive statement.
“I’m not insisting that you award me Michelin stars right away, but you could elaborate more.”
“Hmm.” He is thinking. “I wasn’t expecting a sweet and sour taste. I avoid such mixtures, but in this case, it was an apt combination.”
“From your lips, it sounds like five stars out of five.”
“Michelin awards restaurants a maximum of three. But if you need a rating on a five-point scale on my part, then yes, I would give it five stars out of five.”
I let out a squeal of joy.
“However, I would ask you not to use me to test any more dishes consisting of such drastically different ingredients,” he adds in a warning tone. “It was an exception that your combination of shortcake and apples did not turn out to be a disaster for my taste buds.”
“That remains to be seen. Consider that in exchange for testing, I’m able to offer a lot.” I wink at him.
“This is called manipulation.”
“Call it what you will. And now I’m taking you to the living room because it’s time for a screening.”
“A screening?”
“Yes, a movie screening.” I jump down from the tabletop. “The handsome Jude Law, the lovely Cameron Diaz, the charming Kate Winslet and that fourth one are waiting for us… What was his name again? Never mind. We will watch my favorite Christmas romantic comedy, The Holiday ! Have you seen it?”
“No.”
“I’m envious, I would like to watch it again for the first time. I hope you’ll enjoy it.”
But he doesn’t like it, not at all. While I gaze with glee and a pounding heart at Jude and Cameron’s first kiss, Jan is sitting bored and yawns! He’s about to fall asleep on me here.
I poke him with my shoulder.
“Would you like some more wine?”
“I am sleepy. When will this be over?”
“It just started; we’re a third of the way through.”
“Christ.” He moves his hands over his face; his eyes are bleary.
“They just kissed. It’s so romantic. Don’t you feel any excitement?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Maybe it’s because I’m not a woman.”
“And you weren’t moved when Kate’s guy proposed to another woman and Cameron’s guy cheated on her?”
“I have enough stimulation in my life. I have no desire to additionally experience the problems of fictional characters. I am bored, Maria. The film’s plot is absurd, the idea of swapping apartments is unrealistic.”
“Why?”
“First of all, where did the women get the keys to their homes? Am I to understand that the owner of a massive mansion in Los Angeles left the entrance gate open or hid the key in a publicly accessible place? You are an intelligent woman, judge for yourself.”
“Jan, it’s a romantic comedy meant to put you in a positive mood. It’s not the adventures of Detective Poirot, where the leading crime mystery is how the two women got to their homes.”
“Which does not absolve the screenwriter from the obligation to be credible. And here’s another piece of gibberish: why didn’t Kate warn her brother about her departure and the house swap?
Would you, going to the United States for two weeks during the holiday season and leaving your apartment in the care of a stranger, neglect to warn your brother?
Assuming, of course, that you would be on better terms with him than you actually are. ”
“You didn’t pay attention. Her brother made it clear that Kate may have mentioned something about leaving, but he painted the town red and forgot.”
“Nonsense. One does not forget things like that. Besides, what was he doing in the middle of nowhere at this hour? He claimed he was returning from a party. Who was he drinking with and where? With his neighbors? I doubt anyone would run a bar or drinking establishment in the middle of nowhere. Perhaps I’m too hasty in my opinion, after all, as you mentioned, we’re only a third of the way through the film, but this time I’m forced to give one star out of five. Sorry.”
“You are not sorry at all.”
“You’re right, I am not. But that’s supposedly the way to talk when you don’t want to offend someone. Such a socially accepted custom.”
I’m puffing up like Diodon and cross my arms. I am angry but I’m also hurt. I thought we were going to spend a pleasant Christmas evening in front of the screen, but Jan has taken on the role of a film critic and is ripping my beloved movie to shreds.
I’m not answering anymore; I feel offended; I don’t look at him; I keep staring at the screen.
After twenty minutes or so of watching the movie, Jan’s head falls inertly on my shoulder.
I glance over at him and… Holy fuck, I don’t believe it, he’s asleep!
I’m about to give him the wake-up call of the century.
I wonder whether to move my arm violently or maybe stick my finger in his slightly parted mouth.
However, the longer I glower at him, the more my anger and desire for revenge evaporate, replaced by tenderness.
And that’s because the sleeping Jan looks so sweet and defenseless that I don’t have the heart to lash out at him.
Fine, let him sleep. Tomorrow, I’ll claim my two hours from his day.