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I’d always think of you on days like this. Days where moments after you pull a beer out of the fridge and put it on the counter, the bottle condences into hundreds of droplets of liquid.
It was too hot to sleep. I had tossed and turned, repositioned the fan, cursed and raged and finally headed downstairs to pull a bottle out of the fridge. I set it on my bedside table, and was about to turn the television on when I saw the rivlets running down and pooling around it.
Kinda like that night on your front porch. We sat there, drinking beer, talking, letting it get warmer in our fists. I had set mine down to light a cigarette, and you came over to settle yourself into my lap. You grabbed my hand, the one with the cigarette in it, and lifted it to your mouth, wet on my fingers as you took a drag. You laid your head back on my neck, making your neck stretch. Tendrils of your hair were sticky against your skin.
I laid my head back then. Laid my head back against my mattress, closing my eyes. Reaching up, I let my nails cross my collarbone, gently dragging. It wandered down, inside the top of my nighty, across the expanse of my breast, pinching at my nipple.
It was you that made the first move. It always was. I had looked down at you, and you looked back up. I felt you breathe in softly, and then your mouth was on me, crushing. I opened my mouth, and felt your tongue dart in, hungry and anxious.
The hardness of your cunt pressed against mine, pushing, thrusting, our clits connecting on the upswing, making me shudder and making you smile wickedly. “Do you feel how hard I would be fucking you if I had a cock?” she asked. “Do you feel how hard you’d be coming on my cock?” I bit my lip, and tasted blood.
We fell in and out of the bed. Sheets flying, hands grabbing, mouths sucking. I was over you, under you and then my fingers were inside you, tongue on your clit and I could feel the heartbeat from your chest down between your legs as I suckled and cajoled and finally was rewarded, first with your legs tightening and then your breath coming faster and the surprising moistness against my lips, your hands tightening in my hair and the silent words of praise or curses as I flicked my tongue against your clit.
You had your hair up, at the beginning of the night. By the time you let it down it was full of body, floating around your head and you were the perfect picture of a starlet, or porn star. Full, bruised lips, cheeks flushed and a look promising both heaven and hell, depending on how much I begged.