Morning Coffee at the Kitchen Island

Morning light streams in the windows as she stands poised at the kitchen island counter, her mind wandering to thoughtless oblivion as she watches him stroll to the car, sipping on her second cup of coffee. The mere sight of him stirs a longing into her being. Her head drops to her chest and the fragrance of his cologne on his shirt that she wears assaults her nostrils. Her eyes close and the image of him unfurls, causing her to steady herself with her arms outstretched on the counter. The thoughts of him are so clear that she never hears him re–enter the kitchen.
Silently, he stands against the door jam with his coat slung over his shoulder admiring her as she stood slightly leaned forward across the granite countertop, leisurely drinking her coffee. Wearing nothing but one of his dress shirts and with a little hint of cheek peeking out from under the hem, one leg bent at the knee while her foot rests atop the other, he forgets what he returned for. His gaze travels down a body that has pleased him in more ways than one and he smiles. In such a rush this morning, he thought, and she still hasn’t showered or bothered to dress yet. His thoughts were running rapidly and just as quickly as they flashed in his mind he snapped back to reality.
“Ahem,” he says, slowly strolling across the cool tile floor, loosening his tie as he nears her. She waits for him, never turning around and as he stands behind her his hands slip under the shirt at her waist. She lazily tilts her head back against his chest and a smile comes to her face.
“Forget something?” she asks.
“Uh huh,” he responds in a low southern drawl, bending his head to smell the lingering hint of honeysuckle in her fragrant hair. Nuzzling his face thru her fine brunette hair, he softly nibbles at the back of her neck and feels her body respond as slight shivers vibrate against his palms holding her waist. He clutches her tighter.
Slowly he slides his hand to the front of her stomach, fingering the navel ring and his other hand slides to the cheeks of her ass. Massaging her flesh as if he were kneading bread he hears her low throaty sighs. A deep yearning escalates in his loins as the bulge in his pants strains against the fabric. His fingers part her soft cheeks and a determined finger circles that forbidden passionate portal coaxing the puckered flesh to soften and give way to his touch. He removes his hand from her stomach, and furiously undoes his pants releasing his throbbing cock that pales and flushes the spectrum with lust. He dances in place for his pants to fall around his feet and he steps out.
“You’re going to be late for work,” she says, almost like a gasp between her quick breaths. His touch sends waves of passion thru her body, but there is another wave climbing to release and she feels her bladder filling and expanding. She instinctively knows that his cock is hard and reaches back to grab him. As her fingertips begin to curl at the root, he grabs her by the wrist. Pulling her hand away, a moan escapes from his lips as he feels her nails lightly dragging off like a rake.
“Not yet,” he whispers into the back of her neck, “And don’t worry about me being late.”
With one hand already in his grasp, he reaches up to grab her other hand. His fingers lock around her wrists and he pins down both of her arms to the cool granite. Leaning against her, the rounded hard edge of the island presses into her and she feels the length of his hard cock beginning to slide downward between the cheeks of her ass. Sandwiched between the island and Michael, she is overwhelmed by an urgent need to pee, and the sharp pain flows from the pit of her stomach outward to her pelvic bones. She tries to rise up on her toes for some relief but she only finds herself hoisted and held in place by the island and Michael.
“Michael,” she whispers in a somewhat embarrassed tone, “I have to pee, let me down I’ll be right back.”
“Nooo,” he says, moving her hand in his grip over to her other hand, “I’ve got you right where I want you,” covering both her wrists with his one hand, intertwining his fingers with hers, he pulls her further onto the island and moves his other hand back to the cheek of her ass.
“Michael, please,” she pleads, “I don’t think I can hold it.” Bent at the waist over the island, feet and legs dangling down starting to feel numb, the muscles clench in her ass as she attempts to squeeze her legs together but the only tightening she feels are her lips curling inward. Desperately, in a futile effort she tries to draw her legs up but Michael grinds his hips against her, his fingers moving between her tight cheeks. She feels her bladder spilling over, filling her; confused, helpless and numb she can’t tell if the pee is starting to leak out. “Oh, Michael,” she cries, “I can’t.”
“Yes, you can,” he murmurs. His fingers move quickly between the folds, hoping to feel the weight of water mingled with slick passion. Romance lost and desires turned to greed, he releases her wrists and places his open hand against her swollen stomach. With both hands working like magnetic poles, they push and try to meet, from the front to the back and the back to the front. His long masculine finger pushing past the tightly puckered wrinkles of her ass, probes slowly deeper and deeper, twisting, turning and massaging the dark crevices.
Her white knuckled hands grip the edge of the island. Her body is like a puppet in Michael’s arms pulling her to him as he spreads the pain and pleasure with his hand pressed against her stomach and his finger inside her. Her cries and pleas go unheard but he listens to her screaming body, leading her deeper and deeper into a thick warm translucence where mind and body melt. She lays her face on the cold granite, the waves of urgency and passion surging as she opens herself to him.
He pulls his finger from inside her, the suction fighting to suck him deeper. Reaching around her he slightly twists his body, grinding his hip into her. Her body slips downward and his fingers lay flat against her swollen lips waiting for the hot rushing surge of golden pee. She settles on top of his thigh as he clutches his throbbing cock and she tries to dig her nails into the edge of the island. Gripping his cock tightly he strokes with frantic fluidity while his fingers begin to slowly dance along the sides of her clit.
“Oh my God,” she cries out. His purposely– eluding fingers leading her upwards to the top of the cool granite and she desperately tries to follow, rocking to have his fingertips accidentally brush against her swollen clit. She pauses only to fight back the swelling heat, sloshing, trying to seep out and to hear their moans drown.
He lets her slither so far before he pulls his fingers away and with frenzied lust, he rolls her over. Grabbing her midway at the backs of her thighs, lifting and pulling her towards him, he steps between her legs. His cock jutting out with such feral intensity, feels the wet curly hairs just a breath away from the engorged head.
In a split second, he sees her timidity, her trepidation of the unknown, her sheer panic – magnificently stimulating – and with a single thrust, his hard throbbing cock impales her. An alarming gasp from her, a guttural moan from him as he drives deep between the folds of her passion, fighting past that resistance of shock and reaches the hot waters flooding her banks, flooding over him. Every muscle tightening as she loses control to his relentless plunges and only then when he feels a familiar warmth seep out of her does he slow his pace to a steady rhythm. The warm pee flows out of her, soaking him, and runs in slender fingers down his legs pooling at his feet.
“Yes, Baby,” he murmurs, “Let it all go, cum for me now,” gripping her ass tighter when he hears those first splatters of pee hit the floor. Standing there in a puddle drives him again into the deepest recesses of her being.
“Fuck me,” she screams, “Fuck me hard.” Her mind and body having lost all control to need and passion. The syrupy threads washed away by the golden river and his cock drags along in the friction with each plunge. With her legs wrapped tight around him and locked together, her body writhes in mid–air coaxing him to ascend in feverish rapture. Within moments their bodies shudder in unison as their souls drift together and part reaching that pinnacle of orgasm and filling her with another river of searing fluid.
Exhausted, they cling to each other and rather clumsily drop to the floor sitting in a puddle. Both of them are quiet, she turns away from him with an embarrassed look and the slightest smile appears on his face.
“I guess I better get to work,” he says, not really wanting to go or jump up this very moment but he starts to rise and gives her a kiss on the forehead before leaving.
She sits quietly, leaning back on her hands, feeling the wetness creep more and more up the back of the shirt, watching him walk away. “Later,” she says, bringing her wet hand around as if to wave goodbye, but quickly before he turns around drags a soaked finger across her lips.
Erotica