The Wild Side (The Wild Side #1)(20)

I didn’t answer or react.  Not for a long time.  I just watched as she cooked, and when she had laid out five pieces of egg coated bread in a skillet on the range top, and was rinsing her hands while they sizzled and cooked, I moved in behind her, pressing the front of my body hard against the back of hers.

I had to fight not to take her right there, right then, but something she’d said had stuck with me, and I was feeling adventurous.  It freed something up inside of me to be with someone like her, someone that I knew wouldn’t tell me no.

I lifted her, wet hands and all, the second she turned off the water.  I turned her around and perched her on the counter.

I grabbed the butter, cinnamon, and powdered sugar, lining them up near her hip, and wrenched her T-shirt over her head without a word.

She didn’t protest, instead leaning back on her hands to watch me.  She was utterly comfortable being nude, and I found that to be the biggest turn-on.  Nothing seemed to disgust her or make her recoil.  It was liberating to be with a woman like that.  It was certainly nothing I’d experienced before.

I dipped two fingers into the butter, and smeared it onto one nipple, and then the other, then did it again, greasing her lavishly.

“So I take it you do like butter,” she said breathlessly, with just the sweetest smirk.

I smiled and spread a generous amount of cinnamon over the butter, rubbing it in, twisting and pinching her br**sts in the process.  Each hard peak was quivering before I was finished.  Next came the powdered sugar.  It got everywhere, but so had the cinnamon.  I was positive that neither of us cared about the mess.

Not one bit.

I pushed her thighs wide apart, and took the butter to her pu**y, rubbing it over her lips, her little bush, her clit, even pushing inside.  She squirmed as I covered her sex in the cinnamon, but swore it didn’t sting.  It only tickled, and by the moisture pooling there, I could tell it was doing more.  I patted an ample amount of powdered sugar on top, for good measure.

I was hungry.

I stood back and enjoyed my handiwork, drooling at the sight of her na**d body coated and spread for my pleasure.

It wasn’t long before I broke and set to work on licking her clean.

I kneaded her br**sts as I sucked at each nipple, lapping, nuzzling, licking.  She arched her back and I could feel each restless shift of her h*ps as I sucked, and sucked, drawing hard at each ripe tip.

I pulled back to admire her body again.  Each perky breast was pink from the attention, clean of cinnamon now.  My eyes moved down to her cunt, which still needed my ministrations.

I moved away, pushing my shorts off impatiently.

She groaned out a protest, shifting restlessly, spreading her thighs even wider.  She knew what was coming.  I’d already spoiled her with how much I loved to eat her out.  But she could wait a few more minutes and indulge me.

I dipped my fingers back in the butter, spreading a small amount onto the tip of my cock.  I went sparing on the cinnamon and sugar, as well.  For me more than her.  I couldn’t have her sucking for too long, or I’d ruin all of my other plans.

I leaned back against the edge of the counter, gripping the base of my c**k hard.

I didn’t have to say a word.  She hopped down, got on her knees, licked my tip once, twice, then started sucking hard.

I pulled her back by the hair when I was getting too close, lifted her back up into position, then moving to bend down low, I buried my face between her thighs.  The position wasn’t exactly comfortable, but I barely felt it.

I was thorough, seeking out every last bit of sweetness, making her come twice, two fingers shoved deep and moving hard as my mouth worked, before I was done.

She was clutching the back of my head, still crying out, when I pulled back.

I had to pry her fingers away to stand.

I buried a hand in her hair and started kissing her, sucking at her mouth as my erection jabbed hard at her entrance.

I broke loose of her lips just long enough to watch my hand guiding my c**k home.  I thrust roughly to the hilt and started f**king hard.  She was so soft, always, but even softer now after so much attention from my busy mouth.

I gripped her hair, sucked her tongue, and palmed her breast as I jerked in and out, enjoying the feel so much that I held off on coming for as long as I could stand.

It wasn’t that long, but she didn’t complain.

“God, I can’t believe I’m bare inside of you,” I gasped out, still twitching deep in her.  “Feels so good, but I can’t believe I’m doing it.”

She clenched around me hard, and milked another jerk of come out of me.  “Me either,” she gasped back.

The French toast was burnt.  No surprise there.  She made new.

I was famished, and I ate two full plates of it.  I swore up and down and meant it when I said it was the best meal of my life.

“Who could have guessed what an innocent statement about butter would do?”

I’d apparently recovered enough to turn that into a challenge.  I had her giggling and spread out on the table, molested dish of butter in tow, before I quite knew what I planned.

I climbed up and straddled her hips.

I spread a generous amount of the creamy butter between her tits, and started playing with them with both hands, handling them gently at first, and then rougher as her ni**les peaked into hard crests.  I still couldn’t quite believe they were real, though they clearly were, but she was so tiny everywhere else, and her tits overflowed my big hands.