Misdemeanours
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Really Mean It free porn video
“More chocolate cake?”
She raises the knife and waggles it, the razor-thin blade catching the light. I glimpse my reflection as I gaze into the gleaming steel and smile.
“Oh, no,” I say, pushing aside my dessert plate, cleaned of every last speck and crumb of cake. “I don’t think I can have another bite. That was great. Dinner was great.”
“Really? You really mean that?”
“Mm-hmm,” I say. “You’re an amazing cook.”
She tilts her chin down and blushes, then she picks up my plate and brings it to the sink. I look at my fingers and note a brown smudge of cake on my thumb. I suck it clean of the grit.
“Coffee?” she offers from the kitchen.
“No thanks. I’ll have trouble falling asleep.”
“That’s true,” she replies. “I wouldn’t want that. Nothing more painful than staying up all night, unable to sleep. Heart racing. Mind turning. Tossing on the bed.”
“Yeah. It’s a terrible feeling.” I nod and scratch at my collar. It feels warm.
She returns from the sink, wiping her hands with a towel. “But you’ve been sleeping okay, haven’t you? The bed is comfortable enough?”
“It’s really comfortable. Such a great bed.”
“I’m glad.” Sweeping her hands behind her skirt, she sits down in front of me, directly under the light, smiling. “And you’re sure dinner was alright? I’m sorry. The meat was a little undercooked, I think.”
“No, no. It was great.”
“Do you really mean it?” she asks, tilting her head aside as she leans forward, crossing her legs, grinning at me.
“Really, I love my meat rare,” I say. I sweep my tongue around my mouth and suck on my saliva, still recalling the juices, the mild tang of blood.
“You’re too kind,” she says, her brow twitching.
Nodding towards her, I say, “That’s a really great dress. Really lovely on you.”
“You think so?” She sits up and looks herself over, brushing her hands along the skirt. “I wasn’t so sure when I found it.”
“It’s really beautiful... just like you.”
She curls a finger under her lip and grins, a bloom of pink appearing on her cheeks once more. “You’re such a flatterer. You don’t mean that.”
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it,” I say. I pause and add, “You know that.”
She gives her head a coy shake. “I’m not so sure about that. I think you’re lying,” she says, her voice low, a sly smile teasing at the edge of her lips. “I hope you’re not.”
“I’m not,” I say, shaking my head. I match her steady gaze as I hold my breath for a moment.
Still grinning, her hand lowers to her lap as she uncrosses her legs. Slowly, her fingers claw at her skirt, raising it steadily, pulling the hem higher.
I watch quietly as she settles back and slips her hips down further till they're at the edge of her seat. She continues to ease her skirt up, exposing more of her pale white and pink thighs. I see a tuft of curly hairs revealed between her legs as she slowly spreads them apart.
“This is what you want,” she says.
I can’t tell if it’s a question or a demand, but I nod, regardless.
She sighs, a cooing giggle trickling from her throat. Raising her fingers to her mouth, she gives two of them a suck, withdrawing them slowly from her plush, crimson lips, and painting them with one final drag of her tongue for good measure.
I can see the sheen of saliva coating her fingers as she reaches down to her crotch. Another playful giggle slips through her grinning teeth like an amused child playing with dolls, before she touches herself, teasing her lips apart, exposing her raw pink flesh and crinkled bud to me.
I lick my lips as I hold them in my mouth, tasting the bittersweetness of dinner, of the almost-raw meat again.
Her fingertips swirl and pinch and pull and push. Her purrs and hums announce the delight of her own touch, and when she sinks a finger into herself, her red lips round open, forced apart by a pitched gasp that segues to a languished moan.
The light above her seems to intensify, surging from the energy she casts. My hand grips, tightening around hard length. Her ice-blue gaze grips me, ferociously demanding my attention.
She pushes her hips closer towards me as she slumps into her seat. I tip my nose towards her, sniffing whiffs of her dampness, her lust seeping from her puffed quim. She signals her approval of my actions with a crooked smile cracking across her flushed face. The sounds of moist fingers churning and probing faster and faster within her weeping hole fill the air and challenge her groans and quickening breaths to be heard.
Face flushed now, her hips pulse and sway as she twitches, writhes and thrashes in her seat. She pinches her teeth upon her lip so hard I think that she might break flesh as she squeaks and growls desperate, haunting “oohs” and “ahhs” over and over.
My fingers clutch like a vice, my knuckles a patchy white and red as I tug and strain. My Adam’s apple bobs, but I can’t choke down my spit. My eyes dare not move from her just as hers are fixed upon me, wild and wide, even at the height of her ecstasy.
She twists harshly in her seat as if a coil has snapped within her. An animalistic, vulgar noise groans from her gut and past her yawning mouth. The squelch of her fingers --dripping, sopping-- as they churn and tremble follows.
Moments after she has rushed past her peak, she nibbles on a curled finger through a satisfied grin. A rattling song of self-satisfaction hums past her lips. Her hips settle back down as she catches her breath, her face aglow, red and raw like that meat on my plate.
Once more, she giggles softly and says, “Did you enjoy that?”
“I did,” I say, nodding eagerly, always smiling, my hand still gripped tight. “You were great. So great. I’ve never wanted a woman so much.”
“Do you really mean it?”
I spot a glimmer of intrigue in her eyes.
“Yes, I do,” I say. “I want to touch you.”
“Really?” Her brow spikes.
“Yes,” I urge and shift forward. “I want to hold you close, tight in my arms.”
She curls her hair around her ears, opening them to the sound of my voice.
“I want you to feel my body on yours, my full weight upon you,” I breathe through my teeth, stretching my lips so tight and far that I feel as if the top of my head will split and roll off. My desperate eyes widen upon her, and I’m ready to crawl to her if need be to get my hands on her.
She pauses, gazing back at me with a spark of temptation apparent in her face.
My heart is pounding, my adrenaline rushing like a drug through my head. “I want…”
“Shh,” she hushes.
I hold my breath.
As she stands, she brushes her skirt back down, adjusting it with dainty tugs of her still wet fingers. She smiles at me and says, “Not tonight.”
I breathe out. My hand relaxes, a numb tingle coursing through each finger. I blink, the light suddenly stinging my dried pupils.
“But I’m so glad you came,” she giggles, then leans towards me, pursing her lips.
I close my eyes. I feel her lift my chin and kiss my forehead with a feather touch.
“I really mean it,” she breathes.
“Me too,” I rasp.
As she steps back, she captures me in her large blue eyes. “I hope you do.”
She turns away before I answer.
When she passes by the sink, she picks up the rest of the cake and the knife. As I watch her walk up the stairs, I listen to her giggling. She continues to do so as she stands by the door to look back at me, blow me a kiss and then leave. The sound of her giggling lingers in the cold air, seeping through the walls after she closes the door and the light goes out.
I feel the ache on the edge of my lips as my smile quivers and fades. I settle back, curling on the floor, and I think… I hope… I pray… that maybe tomorrow or maybe the next day…
… or maybe the next...
… she’ll remove these chains and finally let me out of this cage...
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