Midnight Snack

Midnight Snack
by David Cain

Jim wiggled the edge of his fork through the sugary pie. The soft buzz of insects, coming clear through the screen windows, serenaded the dark night. Slipping the tines beneath the crust, Jim lifted the morsel into his mouth. The sweet decadence of pecans and corn syrup melted over his tongue.

“Mmm,” Jim sighed, his calm, satisfied smile lit only by the faint glow of a humid summer moon.

The sound of footsteps shuffling closer aroused Jim’s fading attention. He looked up to discover the slow approach of a woman, her white nightdress glowing slightly in the dim corridor.

“Ellen,” Jim said quietly. The sleepy woman looked up and pushed her bangs away from her eyes.

“Hey, Jim,” Ellen responded, hardly lifting her slippered feet.

“Trouble sleeping?” he asked. Ellen continued past him to the refrigerator and pulled the door. The white light within shone brightly. Jim held his breath, attentively watching as the silhouette of Ellen’s naked body took shape beneath her thin cotton gown. She leaned over, shuffling the crowded array of jars, bottles and plates of leftovers, while Jim studied the faint shadows of curls under the arch of her lean thighs, and the heavy swells of her loosely hanging breasts. Ellen pulled out a bottle of beer and pushed the door closed with a bare foot as she twisted off the cap.

Jim sighed, teased by the tingling within his boxers. Ellen pulled out a chair and sat down.

“It’s so peaceful,” he said softly. “Quite a change.”

“Crazy day,” said Ellen, lifting the bottle for a swig.

“I always have trouble sleeping in a strange bed,” Jim said, pushing away the last bites of pie.

“I know,” said Ellen. “What a day.”

“Debbie did a really good job with the party. I can’t believe how good everything was.” Jim rubbed his bare belly. “I shouldn’t have eaten that pie,” he said, smiling.

“I can’t even think of food,” said Ellen. “I ate too much already.” She took another drink.

“Maybe I’ll have one of those. Might help me sleep.” Jim stepped over to the refrigerator and squinted into the bright light.

“I had the wildest dream,” Ellen said softly. “I had to get out of bed, just to calm myself down.”

“Nightmare?” asked Jim, sitting down beside her.

“No,” she said slowly, “I wouldn’t call it that.” She took a sip of her beer. “It was more like a . . . .” Ellen smiled.

“Hmm?” Jim asked, grinning.

“Well, it was arousing,” said Ellen shyly, blushing in the dark.

“Tell me,” said Jim, leaning forward.

“I was in this big castle, and like there had been a party,” said Ellen.

“Pretty much describes the day,” said Jim.

“Yeah, but this was one of those old stone castles and I was walking down the hallway, feeling lost. There were big red and black tapestries, you know, the kind that have big battles woven into them and there were huge guys, like suits of armor like standing guard with long pikes and spears.” Ellen leaned back and took a drink of her beer. She sat the empty bottle down on the table.

“Sounds erotic,” said Jim, coolly trying to encourage her to go on. Ellen stood and walked over to get another beer. Jim leaned to one side, giving himself a better angle to gaze at the profile of her hardened nipple. Ellen sat down with a lazy sigh and leaned back in the tall wooden chair.

“I opened a door,” Ellen whispered, “and Jeff and Alice were inside the room, fucking like dogs.”

“Wow,” said Jim, “I would love to have seen that.” He could barely make out the dark ring of Ellen’s left nipple through her white gown.

“I know,” said Ellen. “They just looked up, smiling and I closed the door. Then I went into the next room, and Carol was sucking on Mike’s prick.” Ellen’s voice darkened as she tried to force the naughty words out.

“Are you sure it was a dream?” asked Jim, chuckling. “Maybe this anniversary party is just wilder than we expected.” He put his hand on Ellen’s bare thigh. She laughed and moved slightly forward so that Jim’s fingers reached higher.

“I don’t think Carol’s ever sucked Jeff’s dick, much less anyone else’s.” Ellen said, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, I didn’t really think,” Jim said, his hand creeping up Ellen’s thigh, “really?” She spread her legs a little more.

“Nah, she’s pretty inhibited,” Ellen said as Jim’s fingers grazed her moist lips.

“What a waste,” said Jim, his thoughts elsewhere.

“I opened the door to Ted and Debbie’s room, in the dream, and you were there.”

“Really,” said Jim.

“You had your tongue in her cunt.”

“Mmm,” Jim said, slipping a finger along the damp folds of Ellen’s pussy.

“And I woke up with my hand, right there.”

“I see,” said Jim, dipping into the moist pool.

“And,” sighed Ellen, “I just had to get out of bed, or I would have . . . and there’s just so many people around . . . I didn’t know if I could keep myself quiet.”

“Hush,” said Jim, slipping down onto the floor. Ellen scooted forward to kiss him with her wet pussy. Jim slipped a strong tongue up her sultry lips.

“Oh, God,” she whispered anxiously, spreading her legs wide. “What if someone comes down?” She put her hands lovingly on his thick curled hair. Jim lapped at her pussy earnestly. “Wouldn’t that be a scandal?” His tongue teased her clit and then sank between her lips.

Moonlight shimmered through her light hair as Ellen focused her thoughts on the sensations of Jim’s furious lick. Tensing her legs, she pushed herself against his lips, anxiously bringing herself closer to the touch she sought. Jim closed his eyes and drank the musky juices that poured from Ellen’s cunt.

“Eat me, Jim,” she moaned, pushing herself against his fast tongue. Jim smiled as the shudders of escape ran rampant through her body, the quivers of release drenching his face in her sweet scent.

“Wow,” said Ellen, shivering as Jim cast a lusty glance up to her. “That was just what I needed.”

Jim lifted himself off the linoleum, his boxers tented by the hard staff within. Ellen reached up to tease Jim’s anxious prick, but sat back quickly as the sound of footsteps approached. Jim sat down and pulled the plate of pie back.

“Oh,” said Debbie. “It’s you two. I thought I heard someone.”

“Yeah,” said Jim. “Midnight snack.”

“Mmmm,” said Debbie, opening the refrigerator. “Sounds good.”

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, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, reading, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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