Vicky laid down the sponge and looked at her handiwork. It took over an hour of scrubbing, but she thought the stove looked almost exactly the way it did when she first moved into the apartment. She could not believe she had let dirt and cooked food build up on the stove the way she did. She supposed it came from having her two younger brothers living in her apartment. Trying to keep up with her own life and with them was almost too much sometimes. Her youngest brother elected to live on campus this year and the other decided to move in with friends. Vicky was happy to have her apartment to herself once again.
An erotic story of dinner, where the build-up to the main dish is exquisite and excruciating. I put on a light camisole and stare at my reflection in the mirror. I want him to like what he sees when he gets through the door. I rim my lips with nude lipstick and apply some light shimmer to my eyelids. What was I thinking when I told him to come over to mine for a second date? I dab some perfume behind my ears as the doorbell rings. I imagine him standing on the opposite side of the door, a wicked smile softening the planes of his rugged face.
Today I feel like an executive. My hair is scraped off my face and the make-up is flawless. Walking into a classy restaurant, the London sun streams through the French windows, melting the clientele like individual ice cream cakes. My heels are sensible and expensive.
I want you to say my name. We are on his sticky green couch, naked, in the middle of the day, and I am riding him hard and fast. I pull him closer to me, shoving my hands in his hair and grinding my clit slow against him. His eyes close and he tips his head back with sheer bliss.