07.17.08
Coffee with cream
I start the new day with my eyelids glued together and my lashes holding hands desperatly. A bit of water, only the strictly neccessary amount to do the job, helped them say goodbye to eachother. With a yawn to discard the last memories of tonights dreams, I crawl into the kitchen.
There, waiting for me patiently on the table was a coffee cup. In the air hung the smell of the fresh life-saviour, life-giving even, dark brown liquid. I pour it into the cup, add a few drops of sweet, sweet sugar to it, not forgetting to put my finger in it, so I can check that it is indeed sugar that I am pouring in. It is.
The first sip trickles down my throat as I am still standing, like I always do when I start drinking my coffee. It is my tribute to the drop of godness that exists in each early gulped-down-or-sloooowly-savoured cup. The pagans might say that I am simply addicted and I am in too much of a hurry to drink it. But then again, it is why I call them pagans. I indeed feel sad for them.
The rest of the sweet-enough-but-not-too-sweet coffee opens my eyes and makes me smile in eagerness of going back to get one more nap before actually waking up. What? Don’t you cuddle back before waking up? Why do I? Well, most of the times is to just lazy around.
I cuddle back after a little bit of a fight to make some room for myself. I succeed because he had no energy to resist me. Of course! He didn’t drink his coffee yet.
He just moans and turns on his back to let me curl to his side. His eyes are glued. I kiss him with the biggest smile I can muster so early in the day. He takes my hand in his and rests both of them on his hardened groin. Damn, the warmth of such gestures fills me just up to my ears. They get connected with an impossibly big life-is-so-pretty smile.
He just moans and turns on his back to let me curl to his side. His eyes are glued. I kiss him with the biggest smile I can muster so early in the day. He takes my hand in his and rests both of them on his hardened groin. Damn, the warmth of such gestures fills me just up to my ears. They get connected with an impossibly big life-is-so-pretty smile.
It becomes more and more warm as he lifts the rim of his pants so I can touch the oh-so-smooth skin on his shaft. My toy is awake and beggs to be played with. Needless to say I can’t resist such offerings.
I touch it long sidedly with the tips of my fingers, going up and down, at some point running not just the fingertips, but the tip of my nails on it. As his hand leaves me not much space on the toy, strong and quick moves of his fist making me moan, I palm his balls and join the rythm. One stiff arm curls over my neck, that is peacefully resting on the shoulder, and the hand, attached through the wrist to the same arm, sticks to my nex and pushes me down. Altough the message is clear, I still have an arm around my neck and thus I am incapable of moving. It is not so good to not drink your coffee. Mechanics of movement slip from one’s mind, by example.
I touch it long sidedly with the tips of my fingers, going up and down, at some point running not just the fingertips, but the tip of my nails on it. As his hand leaves me not much space on the toy, strong and quick moves of his fist making me moan, I palm his balls and join the rythm. One stiff arm curls over my neck, that is peacefully resting on the shoulder, and the hand, attached through the wrist to the same arm, sticks to my nex and pushes me down. Altough the message is clear, I still have an arm around my neck and thus I am incapable of moving. It is not so good to not drink your coffee. Mechanics of movement slip from one’s mind, by example.
The arm removes itself and after a few moments I go down to get my coffee cream.
