I like coffee.
I also enjoy making it on those mornings when I know that lunch will be delayed, when milky java is there to warm me, to satisfy me, as I am frothing, and as you are reaching around from behind and unbuttoning my jeans. “Don’t get too distracted,” you tell me as the milk nearly boils. Distraction is exactly the point. Is it not?
“How’s that?” I ask, as you take the first sip, my pants now down to my knees.
“Mmm. I like the thong.”
I am not sure quite how you manage to get your own pants down while holding the cup, how you get your cock loosened from your briefs. The effect is nonetheless jolting.
“I have always wanted to do this,” you say, and I think suddenly of all the things you have managed to do to me within minutes of arriving at my house, scenarios you must perfect on the ride here… It is in those few minutes that I know the thoughts that fill your mind when you let them… if you let them. I imagine you fantasizing, and the thought of that is almost more exciting.
You take another sip, the hot coffee now less threatening as you push yet harder into my wetness. I steady myself at the sink, aware of the sheer audacity of it all. I am hot, could easily come this way … But like most parlor tricks, this is more trick than treat, though the treat is substantial. It teases. It tempts. But I know how much more is possible in less restrictive settings. I want more of you, more than we can manage standing half-dressed in my kitchen.
I want you in my bed, my clothes and yours off, our skin only to separate us.
I pull up my jeans and run up the stairs, your footsteps then right behind mine. Round the corner.. I have made the bed, but all for naught, I think, only to give the impression that I am a tidy person. And I am not.
No, nothing is tidy in this life, I know, and I know that it truly does not matter, here, now. I throw my jeans on the floor, my sweater, too, and dive beneath the covers, leave the pale blue panties, the bra, for you to gaze at, then remove. You will, I know you will. You will lie back, and pull me up onto your bare body, your cock full of want, my want, a sigh, at last, at last.
It is all so familiar, this fucking, and yet always so damned gratifying, opening myself in anticipation of your hungry cock, hard, driving me hard, urgently, yes, yes. Yes, I want to grab you, milk the come right from you as you lose yourself, the world, all but what is right here right now, which is all that matters, really, ever. Today.
And still, I may think of this tomorrow. I may think of this desire, once, in my kitchen, on some long, slow day, in my untidy bed, warm and dreamy, cream and hot coffee, on a cold morning.