if i could fuck you, i would.
no phones. no distractions. no one else.
you, me, and a couple bottles of wine.
i would seduce you. you would give in, give yourself to me finally. your lips, stained red with cabernet and sticky strawberry gloss, would press to mine, searching and tasting. you would pull back, and your eyes would scan my face. you’d watch as i slowly smiled, and then, drunkenly, warmly, your hand would find my knee and then my thigh.
i would turn up the volume on the stereo until the beat of the music eclipsed the sound of my heartbeat and our pulses merged. my hips would slightly rock and they would dare you to bring your hand upward to my soft, wet place.
a thousand little lights piercing the dark between us – those are stars.
we are stars.
i would stand and offer my hand to you, helping you to your feet. i’d brush the hair from your cheek and lovingly tuck it behind your ear. i’ve always loved your soft, curly hair and any opportunity i’ve had to touch it, i’ve taken. i’d have to pull you in again to kiss you. i can’t resist you. i’ve never been able to resist you. you know this.
you would lead me to the kitchen and we’d pour another glass of wine. cheers to us, my dear. you would hop up onto the counter, your bare feet swinging up in the air and gently tapping the cabinets on their return. (so girlish, so fresh-faced you are.) just as your last throaty laugh would dissolve into the air, i’d lean in and kiss you again.
this time, you’d want more, though. no more shy banter, no more teasing each other. suddenly your hands would roam my torso. the buttons on my shirt would be undone for me, then the shirt tossed to the kitchen floor. in a split second, i’d hike your skirt up and spread your legs apart. your knickers would be damp and i’d slip them to the side, exploring until my finger came to rest on your clit. i would rub and rub and ease my left middle finger into your cunt. i’d work your pussy until you begged for my tongue to finish you off.
your legs wrapped around my lower back. your nails digging into my ass. the hum of the fridge and the music from the other room.
nothing here but us.