Dark Bishop
The call came soon after I
was resting at a café, having my coffee. The employer was calling off the
assassinations; the transfer was done in full for all the contracts.
“I do not collect on undone
works.” I replied but the line was dead. I knew that there was no need for me
to return the call, as the phone was a disposable one. They are bought over the
counters every day. Nevertheless, I shouted into the dead line.
“Fuck you!”
I went out for a drink. A
stiff one.
****
She was a classy fox; we met
at the bank when I went there for my expenses withdrawal. She was dressed in
branded labels, even down to her thongs. I knew when I laid my teeth on the
string on her left hips. I bit and then tugged at it.
Damn! The material may be
skin clinging and also with a tensile strength that was equivalent of a bungee
rope.
“I think it’s best I do it.” The
brunette with the long tresses of below the shoulder length raised her hips and
used her hands to move the stubborn thongs. She slipped it off her left leg and
then her right one. It was all I need to widen the dimension to explore the intimate
corners. She consented eagerly, while I taste my way to her tender bud.
“Oh!” The lady screeched out
while her arms went wide on her side. She had removed her second last
concealing piece; I left the scarf on her neck as the color suits the one on
her cheeks then. I was down to my socks; they were the only clean pairs I had
then, so it was important to keep it on.
“Ooohhh!” There goes the
lady. I knew I was good but maybe I had underestimated my skills or I had
improved. I slitter up from her belly towards the luscious upper lips on her
face. I rest my teeth on the left side of her neck, simulating the acts of a
blood sucker. It was then she pulled my head away.
“Aaron, you have to stop.”
The lady whispered out. “Your chin is tickling me.”
I raised myself, and held up
my hand to rub my chin. The two day old stubble had added its briskness to the
texture. The lady had decided that the waiting was too long, that she reached
down for me.
“Yes!” The lady screamed when
I assisted her cue with a forceful thrust. One thing I learned was why boys
like to play the choo choo train. It’s the locomotive that makes us boys.
“Oh, boy!” The lady screamed
out with my locomotive thrusts.
No comments:
Post a Comment