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Another Dance with Tango
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Another Dance with Tango He let himself in as I was bent over the dishwasher in my pajama shorts, the hem just skimming each cheek. My lazy Sunday afternoon chores alone were about to be disturbed. “I brought in your paper,” he smiled, placing it on the counter just inside the door. “Thank you,” I replied in almost a whisper. It was already more words than we had exchanged in our last meeting. It was already too much conversation for either of us. He steps into me, over me, his mouth quickly devouring mine. I find my back pushed against the counter, bracing my arms on the laminate edge as his hands roam from my hips up, pushing an old cut-up, 5K T-Shirt upwards to expose my unclad breasts. There’s no point in a bra on a lazy Sunday alone. I wasn’t planning on an interruption. I grip the counter edge harder, thrusting my chest towards his tongue as he flicks it over a nipple. I can’t stop the groan as he moves to the other. It’s important to make things even and all…. It’s two steps to the dining room and my shirt is stripped off completely. I bite his lip as I kiss him, furiously shoving his shirt up to place my skin on his. It’s two more steps to the table and I’m being spun around. My beautiful consignment store find, round with slate inlay, a cold stone pressing my heated flesh as I’m bent over and my little shorts wrenched down to puddle at my toes. I hear a crinkle of condom wrapper and he is in me, thrusting deeply. My 5’2” legs are too short and I have to lean up on my tiptoes, trying to find purchase as he takes me. I can’t push back. In this spot, in this moment, I am his willing puppet. He pulls my hair, lifting my head and torso enough that my nipples sway across the cold stone in rhythm with his pounding instead of being crushed into it. Sky rockets in flight. Sunday afternoon delight…. My open floor plan places our carnal scene in direct line of sight of a large cottage window in the living room, shorn only in a sheer white curtain. Anyone out for a Sunday stroll could see us at any minute. Logic Me doesn’t want to have to explain to my nosy German neighbor. In the moment, Last Tango Me wants someone to see. Wishes this was the moment the cute gentleman with his labrador would take their daily constitutional like they do every day. Stop and watch. Just for a minute. His cock slips out and I seize the opportunity to straighten and spin, frantically probing his mouth with my tongue, raking my nails down his sides. We make it as far as the stairs before my back is to him again and his palm is pushing my torso down, my ass in the air. Hands grip my hips tightly, kneading. I’m fully hinged at the center, bracing my palms on the stair two above the step where my feet are widely planted. Here, I can push back. The acoustics echo, guttural groans ringing back. The slap happy sound of his flesh ramming mine, my tits bouncing against each other and off my own chin ricochets off the walls. A few involuntary fucks escape my lips and reverberate back. He slows and withdraws. He smacks my ass just hard enough to sting and my stomach clenches, wanting him inside me again. He keeps the grip on my hips from behind as we race the remainder of the stairs and plunge right into my bedroom. I’m tossed on the bed in a blink and he yanks me to the edge, standing over me. He throws my legs onto his chest and thrusts deeply,<b> piercing </font></b>me. I close my eyes to enjoy the deep, full feeling only to have it withdrawn. Before I can groan my disappointment, his mouth is on me, tasting where his cock has been. There’s no slowness about it to make me wet. I’m already dripping. His tongue moves rapidly and forcefully, commanding my surrender. My own hands betray me, wandering over my breasts. Grasping, rolling, pinching. I can feel the tightening into the arches of my feet, the shuddering release as I cum over his lapping tongue. He springs up from between my legs and smothers my mouth with his, making me taste myself. I am so hungry now. I bolt upright. Slide my own tongue down his stomach as he stands over me sitting on the edge of the mattress, fingers clutched in my hair. I rip off the third or fourth condom he’s donned. I’ve lost count. I flick my tongue over the head of his cock. I try to be slow, to seduce, but it’s too late for languid. I want him in my mouth. I take the head between my lips, swivel my tongue around. One hand is on the base of the shaft as I slide my mouth down further until his dick is crowding the back of my throat. I suck and glide in unison. Cup his balls with my other hand like a good girl. He gathers my hair to the side so he can watch me as I suck greedily. Then he yanks, pulling my head from his shaft by my hair. He stands me. Spins me. Pushes me onto the bed on all fours, spread and waiting as another wrapper rips open behind me. The length plunges into me again. Deep and forceful. Slow and torturing. Until I beg for faster. Faster. Harder. Faster. Harder. Oh Please. The sound of slapping flesh fills my ears again. The musk of bodies and lust fills my nostrils. Just when I think I’ll be split in two he withdraws again. I lose track as we change positions, me straddling him, him entering me from every direction on the compass. Our skin is slick with sweat. My sheets are saturated with our mingled exertions. I ache momentarily with the emptiness as he extracts once more, until he throws me on my back again and drives his tongue over my sensitized clit. Fuck. Oh Fuck. I don’t know what I crave more, his tongue or his cock. I lay back and give in to whichever he wishes to grant me. I quiver and shake and break under his mouth and his hands until I have to beg him to stop. Orgasm upon orgasm. Shatter. Please. FUCK. Finally he relents, looks up with his face glistening with my wetness. He straddles me across my hips and finally prepares his own orgasm, gliding his hand over his cock as I run my palms over my breasts for him, squeezing them together. Hot liquid spurts onto my skin, one final act of owning me. He goes to the bathroom and leaves me heaving on the bed, waiting for my heart rate to slow. My hair is plastered to my neck with sweat and my entire body is flushed pink. He returns with a wad of tissues and cleans himself off me gently. I make a vague comment about our clothes being on another floor. We trot downstairs to retrieve them. “Thanks for stopping by,” I say at the door, my fingers folded into the edges of his shirt. We part from a final exchange of lips and saliva and heat. “I’ll let you get back to your chores,” he says as he exits. I turn back to the dishwasher with a smile on my lips….. Yours in Erotica, Vocabulary Slut {=} |
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I never know when my Last Dance with Last Tango might be..... Have to make every step and side shuffle count  Yours in Erotica, Vocabulary Slut {=}
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Who reads the paper? lol 
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I meant: "That was an incredibly detailed tale of tail (sorry) and/or an erotic masterpiece." It's a crime there are not many more people commenting on these. Perhaps they are shy like I, and afraid to expose their lack of linguistics by posting. I'm in the "dgaf" stage now and just wanted to give credit where it is due.
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I agree with boyracer, this is a great erotic piece. Better than the old Penthouse forum magazine. Have you ever thought about writing a full erotic novel? I don't know if there is a market out there for it, but you certainly have the talent to write one. I very much enjoyed reading this. Please post more!  Well, I believe in the soul, the cock, the pussy, the small of a woman's back...
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