Archive-name: Solo/eros6.txt

Archive-author: 

Archive-title: Eros 6





   She was humming as she changed the sheets from the smooth percale

she liked to the fuzzy flannel he preferred.  She imagined what she

would do to him tonight, and her humming grew quieter until finally it

ceased.



   First she would undress him, slowly, slowly, kissing him softly as

each bit of flesh became visible.  "To keep it from getting cold," she

would say teasingly.  They'd done this before -- he would say, "No

fear of that!" and they would laugh together as she began to stroke

his skin with her warm hands.



   Then she would push him slowly back until he fell onto the bed and

she would take his penis into her hand.  By now he would be fully

erect, and it would jump as she touched it.  They would laugh again at

this familiar occurrence.



   Next she would begin to lick him with little, teasing cat-laps at

his skin, all over him, from his collarbones to his toes, but avoiding

his crotch.  She would roll him over and lap at his back, covering

every inch of his skin, and then she would suck at his toes...



   The phone rang, shattering the intimate silence.  She picked it up.

"Hello?  Oh, hi!  I was just thinking about you!  When are you getting

here?  Oh.  Oh, I see.  Yes.  Yes.  Bye, then."  He wasn't coming

after all.  Again.  She was momentarily disappointed, but then she

began to get angry.



   "Who needs you anyway?" she demanded of the walls in a quiet but

intense voice.  "Damn you!"  She was already wet and wanting from her

imaginings.



   She went downstairs to put away the wine she had gotten out for

him. She seldom drank wine herself; she disliked the taste.  She

paused, looking at the bottle.  It was almost empty.  "Am I

sex-starved, or what?" she asked herself, as she noted the phallic

shape of the bottle's neck.  She picked up the bottle and one of her

two crystal wineglasses and took them up to her bedroom and set them

on the nightstand.



   She sat on the edge of the bed and poured a little wine into her

glass, admiring the way the clear liquid turned gold in the lamplight.

First she sipped at it; then deciding that tonight she liked the

flavor, she took a heartier swallow and finished it.  She judged the

amount of wine remaining in the bottle -- a little over a glassful.

She poured half a glass, then decided against pouring in the

remainder.



   She slipped off her loose silk nightshirt, the only garment she was

wearing, and shivered a little as cooler air brushed her skin.  She

took a swig from the bottle, and then deliberately dribbled a few

drops across her breasts.  Her nipples began to pucker from the chill

of the liquid. Leaning over, she licked the droplets off herself.  Her

nipples grew harder.



   Liking the sensation, she did it again.  A little more wine came

out of the bottle this time, and it trickled down her front.  The

white wine blended into the pale gold and peach tones of her skin.

She set the bottle down again, and spread the wine across her abdomen

with her fingertips. Again she licked the wine off her nipples, and

then off her fingers, sucking them a bit.  It felt good, and she

sucked some more.  Then she leaned over and sucked her nipples; first

one, and then the other, raising the breasts with her hands and

pointing the nipples up so she could reach them.  They tasted of the

wine and of something else; she wasn't sure what.



   She reached for the wine and dribbled it over her breasts again,

enough this time to trickle all the way down to where the hair grew.

It tickled a little as it seeped around the hairs.  The wine was

almost gone now.  She capped the bottle.  She smoothed the wine across

her abdomen again, and trailed her fingers down into the dark hair

between her legs.



   She noted how pale her skin was where it hadn't been exposed to

sunlight in such a long time -- she hadn't sunbathed in years.  Her

fingers teased at the hairs, feeling a little like the wine trickling

there had, but different.  Her skin was growing warmer, and her breath

quicker.



   She found the slit with her fingers, brushing up and down it to

open it without pulling the hair.  She teased for a moment at the edge

of her vagina, then moved upward to where her clitoris was standing up

wanting attention.



   She wet her fingers in her wineglass, then went back to her

clitoris. She circled around it, not touching, several times before

finally drawing one finger across it.  Then she slipped two fingers

down to her vagina again and dipped into it.  She was still wet from

before, and she was getting wetter.  She drew some of the moisture up

to just below her clitoris, stroking up and back, up and back, never

quite touching, but teasing, teasing.



   She wet her fingers in the wine again, and drew them up the inside

of her thighs to where they joined her body.  She stroked there gently

for several minutes, getting more sensation with each stroke until she

could hardly bear it.  Then she slipped her fingers into her vagina.

It was hot, and so wet and ready and wanting!  She smoothed the walls

with her fingers, only wanting more, and then she reached for the wine

bottle again.



   She set it against her crotch and slid it across the hair.  By now

she was so ready that the hair was no barrier to those lips; they had

opened enough that the bottle was soon sliding across bare wet flesh.

She shivered a little; the bottle was cold, but it did nothing to cool

the fire now raging in her blood.  She raised her hands to her breasts

again and rubbed over the still-hard nipples, leaving the wine bottle

pressing into her crotch.



   Then she rose up onto her knees and, carefully positioning the

bottle, slid down onto it as she squeezed her breasts with her hands.

Her breath caught in her throat.  Oh, how good it felt to have

something inside her! She raised her body up and slid down the

bottle's neck again and again, faster and faster.  Her hands moved

faster and faster across her breasts, rubbing and rubbing the nipples,

harder and harder until the pleasure was almost a pain.  Her breath

came faster and faster in gasps that tore at her throat, until finally

with a moan that seemed to last forever, she came in a wave of wet

heat that warmed the still cold bottle.



   She collapsed onto her side then, and slowly her raspy breathing

slowed. She pulled the wine bottle out of herself then, and unscrewed

the cap.  She put it to her dry lips and swigged at the wine that was

left, tasting her own juices as well as wine.



   She smiled, licking her lips.  "Who needs you anyway?" she said

again.

 

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