Till Dawn

Till Dawn
Literary Fiction
by Lord Malinov

The sun had gone down; city lights illuminated our big picture window with a dull twinkling glow. I sat alone in our apartment, kept company by a distant sleeping cat and the babbling flashes of late night television. Four blunts lay rolled on the coffee table; I’d only meant to roll one but once I had started, with nothing else to do, I rolled up the rest of the bag. Tera would appreciate that. She hated rolling.

I rarely saw Tera since she joined the main company. Rehearsal would keep her out until eleven and performance meant I would wake to hear her come home around three. Never mind the tours. Sometimes I couldn’t help but worry she’d forgotten me completely. But still I waited. She’d be home soon.

Finally, a key turned in the lock and Tera came home. I stood up and she flipped through the mail before she dropped her bag.

“Dark in here,” she said and headed toward the bathroom. I put on some lights. I don’t know. I like sitting in the dark sometimes.

She stopped in the kitchen to pour a glass of wine from the decanter I prepared in anticipation of her routines. I picked up one of my blunts and lit it with slow puffs.

“That’s a big one,” she said.

“That’s what she said,” I said. She laughed, spilling out half a hit.

“Stop that. Let me take this hit.”

I put a finger before my pursed lips, the international symbol of silence, and she fought further laughter while taking the smoke deep in her lungs.

“Ahhh,” she said as the smoke erupted in a thick grey cloud.

“Good rehearsal.”

“Shit,” she said. “I am so wound up.”

“A few more hits of that will loosen you up.”

“I’ll tell you what will loosen me up. Take off your pants.”

“Why Miss Tera,” I said, feigning disturbed innocence.

“The whole day felt a long drag of almost sex. I mean, I’m really getting horny. The new guy is a dreamboat and he kept grabbing my cunt when he lifted me. I mean, he has too, but it was really driving me insane. That’s a nice cock you have there.”

“Grew it myself.”

“He keeps grabbing my pussy and after a while, I’m like, just move your fingers a bit more, you’re almost there, might as well finish the job.”

“Is he gay?”

“I assume so. He wasn’t enjoying my cunt as much as a straight guy would.”

“I know I would.”

My solid cock engaged her mouth, putting an end to her complaints, putting the solution into action. Her clothes stripped away gracefully while she kept my dick engulfed in her lips, tormented into throbbing twitches by her tongue.

“You’re going to finish me off if you don’t ease up,” I said. She jumped up, one of her ballerina jumps and before I know it, she is deep, taking all my cock in her super juicy pussy. “He really had you going.”

“He did. Not anymore. It’s all yours now.”

And we danced until dawn.

About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, cannabis, fiction, literature, music, personal, reading, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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