Snackable erotic shorts to satisfy your mind's eye.
They laughed out loud.
Chuckled for hours.
Sitting on opposite ends of the couch, each shared their similarities. Some were common while others were personal and intimate. Strengthened their connection the further they went. Established a bond.
She let her guard down just a smidge, and he obliged and dropped his.
Things got real when he pulled out the Hennessy and two shot glasses. Challenged her vulnerability with a simple test of trust. Henny wasn’t her thing and knew a few rounds could have her more comfortable than usual. She wasn’t ready to show all sides of her but felt safe enough to remove another layer.
Her face cringed as the cognac seared her throat. Pursed her lips from the burning taste, “Nah, this ain’t for me.”
She shook her head in disgust.
Hoped a different spirit would satiate her palate and made her way toward the wet bar. “What else you got?”
Her rearview revealed a nude back. The navy sheer top highlighted her figure-eight. Soft, round hips kept his attention while he called out instructions from his seat.
“Check the bottom cabinet. You might like what you find down there… lightweight,” he chuckled. “Oh, you got jokes, I see.” Her voice, slightly muffled, searched inside the cabinetry.
Rummaging through his array of bottles, she came across an ashtray. “You smoke?” she turned to him surprised.
“... occasionally.” his delayed reply read pensively.
Sensing a bit of his discontent, she grabbed a pre-roll from her wristlet and slid it under the outer fold of her breast while she continued her search for the right spirit to complement the mood.
He drew a knife through the silence, “What made you ask that?”
She continued to shift bottles and eliminate all that killed the vibe. Finally, she came across her favorite—Maker’s Mark.
“You should’ve led with the bourbon. Prefer it over that nasty ass cognac.”
He scoffed, “Most women don’t drink bourbon…” She turned to him, “I’m not most women.”
His eyes narrowed.
Her feistiness annoyed and aroused him.
Nothing like any other woman he’s experience.
Tried to keep calm, but the urge to ravish her body proved futile. The print of her lace-sheer panty combo peeked through the back of her jeans. The beginnings of a curve to that ass, visible. Though her mid-rise jeans still left much to the imagination, he could “sense” her supple structure.
Back near the bar, she hummed a tune. Grabbed a rock glass from the upper cupboards, a can of ginger ale, and a small squeeze bottle of lime. Shook the ingredients in the shaker and repeated what seemed like an incantation simultaneously.
He couldn’t draw his eyes away.
Her movements kept his attention on her.
She poured the concoction in the rock glass, tasted, and added to the mixture as she saw fit. As if it were a ritual. Continued to hum and mouth a series of words. He toggled between watching her and trying to decipher the code she spoke.
Watching her won.
She gave the drink one last test and made her acquaintance back to their conversation, ashtray in tow.
“What was that you sang?” he scoffed.
“Just a song my granddaddy sang when he’d pour himself a drink,” she smized. “Always seemed content and just a lil buzzed, never drunk. So when I started, he taught it to me.”
He watched her sip slowly, then slid the joint from her shirt so smooth. She tapped her finger on the tip, and it lit. Figured it was some parlor trick and paid it no mind. The fresh scent of tangerine filled the room, and a rush produced an energized head high.
She took another puff.
She adjusted her position on the couch and folded her legs underneath her bum. His loins pulsated. Reached down to reposition the bulge and discovered he was hard as a rock. He glared in her direction, grabbed the joint, and took a hit. That “siren song” filtered through the buzz. He took another shot of Henny and her another sip of bourbon.
Felt loose, like fae frolicking in the meadow. Took another hit, then passed it back. Lean back on the couch and let the euphoria rush in. “Tangie” he could hear her whisper through the song. Didn’t understand what that meant, but he closed his eyes for a moment, then jolted out of his portal with his imprint visible through his sweats.
Of course, they’re grey.
She glanced down, stared for a moment, took another hit, then another sip. Tingly bursts of energy captured them both. She could hear his heart racing and livened her song. Leaned forward and slid her cool hands into the warmth of his cotton contraption and glided his Earth free. He looked down, then back up at her, eyebrow raised.
She smirked, stroked him more, then pressed the tip against her belly. Skin smooth and supple, just as he imagined. Their eyes locked. He traced a pattern at the edge of her shoulder and slid his finger down. Her top followed his finger and revealed her cleavage. He bent down and licked between her center.
She eased back and teased him with her mouth. Suckle and tongue movements jogged his senses just enough to grow... then she stopped.
He stared at her, confused.
Yearning the suckle of her lips.
She smirked once more, downed the rest of the bourbon, and stood up to take her jeans down. Straddling his waist, she reached for his manhood and guided him back between her thighs. Wetter than most, the tip slid in easily and they moaned together in pleasure.
“Well… that was unexpected.” She chuckled and reached for his ass to drive him deeper. Their moans in sync. “Yeah... and so were you.”
His tongue glided along her neck.
Her taste sweet, like the Tangie-flavored herb they indulged in.
He licked his lips to ensure her flavor hit every part of his palate, grabbed her by the thighs, and bounced her along his waist.
Rolled his waist underneath hers to get that good-good. Hit her spot. Trigger a flood. He wanted her to flood, overflow with her nectar, and watch it drip onto his skin. He wanted to taste her lower lips, to see if the skin there matched.
Deeper his Earth into her well. Planting roots. Finding foundation. Her screams bounced against the apartment walls. Banging from the neighbors ensued. He continued to go deep. Lengthen her spine as his loins gained girth.
Right at the point, she reached her peak, and wings emerged from her shoulders. Breathy screams revealed sweet sauce from her thighs, dripping incessantly. Torn between shocked, afraid, intrigued, or enamored, he took in her final form.
She was beautiful in all her splendor.
Carrying their weight in her wings, she held onto his shoulders and honeyed, “Now… my turn…” Used her walls to trap his girth inside and squeezed.
He came so hard they disappeared