This piece is shared with the permission of Honey for whom it was written with much love, for her kind donation.
Sometimes when we go out, he sees me, catches me looking at other women. Once he sat smirking as I shyly flirted with the attendant in a first class train carriage, giggling in awe at her glossy black hair and curvy bum.
As I tied myself in knots and listened to her talk to me about the lipstick she was wearing, his hand was in my lap, crawling under the lace of my knickers, feeling how wet her prettiness had made me and rubbing my clit as hard as he could without making the table shake. When I came I buried my head in his shoulder and he apologised to her slightly bemused face.
“She’s been up since five, I think she’s having a sugar crash.”
She nodded sympathetically and fetched a tiny can of coke and a tumbler and when she turned away he poured out my drink and dipped his come-smeared fingers in it, feeding me the sugary mixture as we sped onwards.
He watches me watch beautiful women like her. Women with immaculate make up in men’s suits. Pretty, voluptuous nymphs in girlish knee highs and 50’s bubblegum dresses. Tall, elegant queens who walk through the world like they own it because they do. Different kinds of beauty but all equal. He watches them too. He knows what my heart yearns for. My heart full of him, but wants something he cannot provide, that I am too scared to pursue.
His office Christmas party. Formal dress. He picks out his favourite – a long velvet gown that brings out the red lights in my hair. Heels, but I still only come up to his shoulder. Champagne cocktails with raspberries, canapés, and his assistant, radiant in a silky whip of nothingness, glancing in my direction. She and I have spoken many times – conspired and commiserated over my love’s stubbornness. I have never seen her so regal, with a cleavage that heaves and wobbles in all the right ways.
When my shoes threaten to floor me, I perch on a low sofa and she sits beside me, calm and soothing.
“She wants you, you know. Has had a crush on you since the day she saw you.” His breath hot upon my ear.
“She does. Why wouldn’t she? See her watching you. She aches.”
This Goddess returns with the glasses, our fingers touch as she passes one to me and sits so close to me our thighs are pressed tightly together.
“You look edible.” She says, her eyes on my glossy lips, my breasts.
“I…..” I swallow. “You are stunning.”
Her smile is warm and deep and I fall gladly, drowning in her as she kisses me. Kisses me in this exposed place that feels secluded, with her hand on my waist as if it had always belonged there. She only breaks away to take my hand and lead me swiftly through the great hall and into the corridor which is dark and deserted.
A statue of the founder’s mother in the centre, watches us as she seats me in the centre of the wide, imposing staircase and kneels before me, kissing along my inner thigh as my body shivers with goose pimples and icy fear of being found. But she will not be deterred, licking my damp knickers and peeling the fabric away from my cunt, pushing her agile fingers inside me as her tongue assaults my clit, interspersing her manipulations with adoration.
“Oh you taste so good. So savoury. So delicious. I knew you’d be delicious.”
She is ravenous for me.
I gently hold her head and bring her lips to mine again. Her kisses more valuable than her touch but she is still within me as we kiss, as she strokes my cheek before the hand glides lower and slips inside my gown to roll my nipple between her fingers. It is this which makes me come for her. Moan in delightful anguish with my face in her shoulder, and in the darkness, his eyes watching us, with his heart full.