While passing you in the midst of the Blue Room at the gallery on Main Street...
My tempered hunger is rising. The tip of curiosity seductively crosses your mind as I move in a manner that is intentionally provocative. I must have you.
With an elaborate pretend I turn to admire a platinum sculpture obscurely peaked at your right shoulder. Then instantly, without hesitation, my eyes are polished by the coat of your neck. How delicate and sweet. I have placed my lips there. I have tasted your wholeness bare. This intense appetite is becoming uncontrollable.
As I slowly open my eyes from that moment of sensual feeding, I caught your enchanting smile giving me a hint as to your position in exploring new found wonders. I can stroke your interest as it suspends from your aura. If I boldly take you, will you allow yourself to collapse in my naked grasp? Or, will you continue to pressure the essence of balance with a flirtatious occult? Intrigued impels me to proclaim clarity. I simply stepped alongside her to impose my obsession.
“I would enjoy the entrancing aroma from your pussy to fill my lungs.” I said, whispering discreetly. A slight tremble shook the very earth of her will as numbers were uttered during her unrestrained exhale.
“763-825-6333!” she declared with a slight faint.
Knowing what those numbers actually mean, I took her hand and we raced to the only empty corridor of the gallery which led to a control room. At this point I will not allow a conservative thought to crowd my reality. I want to drink from her running faucet.
She aggressively pulled me into the room and pushed me on to the floor.
“Don’t play with me,” she said. “I am a woman who is far advanced to the circumstances.”
She strips unwanted fabric from her sultry skin. Her dripping wet slit falls against my ripened breast as she straddles my body. I am tortured by the inevitable. I am inclined to absorb this satiable perfection. The very first caress produced an arousing cry as she reached back with an enticing arch. Suddenly, I felt a thin, sharp object cascading up between my thighs.
“Damn baby. What are you doing?”
“Shut up!” she exclaimed. While holding a knife to my womanhood, she demanded that I fuck her until she bled of gratification. She grabbed my head and began to grind on my face. Her hips bucked against the force of my tongue. She is delicious and untainted.
As moans get deeper and louder, I hear our sustained ecstasy echoing down the corridor. The microphone to the gallery sound system was left on. We have just revised an orchestration in one of Gershwin’s symphonic works ‘I Got Rhythm’ with an erotic variation.
The gallery was still as she reached emotional sensation during the third concerto.
“Why is playing with a knife exciting?”
This is an excerpt from Liquid Toffee Volume I by Ifa Bumi. Visit www.myspace.com/liquidtoffee
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