What do you want to do tonight, baby?
I know, I know…that’s just the worst, isn’t it? You’ve had a long day, and you don’t want to be bothered about where we’re going to eat, or what we want to do on our date night. What’s the old adage? “Relationships are just two people constantly asking each other where to eat until one of them dies.”
Well, I have a solution.
The house is clean. The roomies have been sent away. I bought a bouquet of flowers that reminds me of the feathers in your hair. They were only $4 at Trader Joe’s, and I know how much you like it when I’m thrifty.
When you get home, you’ll be served a cheese board, and that gin drink you like so much in your favorite glass. The one with the octopus on it. We’ll have a drink on the porch while you have a smoke and tell me about your day while I rub your feet.
If that gin goes a bit to your head, that’s ok. Gin makes you frisky, and I’ve cleared off the big stretch of countertop for just that reason. We’ve been talking about christening it for awhile. So, I’ll just keep kissing you and nibbling that spot on your neck until you’re backed up against it, then lift you up just enough. That dress won’t be needed for awhile, and that leftover ice in your drink is just begging to tease those nipples.
While I’m giving your nipples a nibble, I’ll lay you back and slide off those panties. I’m glad I thought to put the coconut oil out to get nice and warm. You’re so slippery already, though, I hardly need it. As I go down on you, I tease and flick for a bit, making sure you’re terribly titillated, before wrapping my lips around your clit and rolling my tongue around it. Your back arches, your groans increase in intensity, and I feel your convulsions get closer. It’s time for some manual help, and I know how much you love my big hands. As my finger enters and begs you to come hither, you beg me again and again with one word.
You’re almost there. I don’t give up until I feel the convulsions and the aftershock, enjoying every sound that emerges from your lips. You recover quickly and pull me on top of you. “I want him slippy,” you breathe, as you grab some coconut oil and reach down to oil me up, “He’s so hard.”
“All for you, baby,” I whisper as I press into you slowly. You gasp, and I remember how much I love the way you feel wrapped around me. We move together, our bodies working as one, and your song continues from your lips, “Oh baby, come with me. Please. Come with me.”
I let go, and both our bodies tighten in the release, then relax. Aftershocks rock our bodies as we separate. I lay my head on your chest as you play with my hair. This is my favorite moment, and I hope it’s one of yours.
“So…where do you want to eat?”
* j/k I totally made dinner.
After traveling the globe as the frontman for Manslide, an all-drag Fleetwood Mac cover band, Stevie has taken off the skirts and scarves to settle down a bit. He now enjoys pursuits of all things manly, whether it be smoking meats, cooking for his favorite ladies, competing in beard competitions, or gazing intently into the distance. Don’t let that fool you, though. He still has all his frilly bits ready to go, and I hear that Manslide is having a reunion tour in a couple years!