by David Cain

Andrea Miller unlatched the front door with a twist of the key. A dry breeze tossed strands of her long yellow hair across her round face. Reaching up, Andrea pushed the fine threads away from her sad pale eyes and hooked the faint lock behind her ear. Turning into the warm wind with a frown, Andrea glanced at the empty grey street below.

“He’d better not be late again,” she said quietly and her voice sounded hard and brittle. Andrea dropped the key back into her purse and stepped inside the dark, stale room. Her thin shoulders slouched wearily as she kicked off her shoes. Andrea nudged the door with a light shove that only barely brought the latch shut with a slow, tentative click.

“I wish there was a radio,” Andrea said, leaning back in a thin-legged chair, kicking gently at her purse. Her soft lips twisted slightly as she noticed a dollop of dried tomato paste on the breast of her linen dress. Andrea picked at the broken scab of sauce and brushed away the crumbs. She shook her head and sighed as she heard footsteps approaching. Andrea stood.

Kevin Muller flooded the room with a brief burst of sunlight as he opened the door and stepped inside. Andrea stood still and watched his dark shadow eclipse the harsh radiance outdoors. The door swung slowly shut behind him, the darkened room bringing his strong features into view.

“You’re here,” Kevin said. “I didn’t see your car.” The tall, thick man pushed his notebook onto a feeble table and shoved his key back into his trouser pocket. Sitting down on the edge of a faded yellow sofa, Kevin untied his black shoe string. “Do you want to open the blinds?”

“It’s too hot,” Andrea said, watching his fingers wrestle with a hard knot. “It’s better this way.”

“Dark?” Kevin asked, wrenching his shoe off his foot and dropping it onto the stiff carpet. He looked up at the shaded windows, the brilliant glow of light surrounding the black silhouetted stripes.

“I like it this way,” Andrea said quietly.

“Whatever,” Kevin said dully, untying his other shoe. He stood and followed Andrea into the bedroom. Reaching behind her back back, Andrea began to unzip her dress. Kevin felt a pang of appreciation as her pale shoulder blades came into view.

“Andrea,” he said. She stopped before the foot of the bed and looked at him. A faint smile trickled over her lips.

“What?” Andrea asked, amused.

“I wish,” Kevin said, pulling at his green and gold tie. “It’s hot.”

“Very,” she murmured. Andrea’s dress slipped gently from her shoulders and she stepped carefully out of it. Holding onto the collar, she lifted the garment up and then tossed it gently over the back of a brown upholstered chair.

Kevin looked hungrily at her round belly, softly rolled over the waistband of Andrea’s simple white panties. Unbuttoning the front of his cream tinted oxford, Kevin stared, almost enchanted, as the triangular cloth stretched round over Andrea’s backside.

“I wish we had a radio,” she said, reaching behind her back to unclasp her white brassiere.

“I don’t,” Kevin said, pulling off his slightly damp shirt. “I couldn’t bear the voices from outside.”

“I’d just like some music, maybe,” Andrea said. Peeling the thin cloth from her heavy breasts, she twisted her lips slightly. Kevin shook his head and smiled. Andrea squeezed her white breasts, kneading the faint red pinches where the tight bra had bit in.

“I like our music,” said Kevin, dropping his pants in a heap on the coarse carpet. “I like to hear every little squeak and moan.”

Andrea lay back on the bed and arching her back, pushed her panties past her bottom and down her thighs. Kevin pushed his white briefs down to the floor. Andrea lifted her feet upward, pointing her toes toward Kevin, her panties rolled at her knees. Kevin reached out and taking hold of the cloth, he smoothly slipped them over her calves and past her small feet.

Andrea spread her legs and ran her fingers through the soft golden muff. Kevin descended into the deepening angle between her thighs and Andrea lifted her bottom up off the thin beige bedspread, opening her dark pink lips to meet his smiling kiss. Kevin touched her damp flesh with his strong tongue and Andrea moaned.

“I’ve missed you, lover,” she said as he began to lick her with long, loving strokes, drawing the fire into her pussy, swelling her with excitement. Andrea pushed herself down, tickled by Kevin’s teases, trying to escape without really escaping, anxious to submit but not quite daring to give in. Kevin slipped his hands around her full ass, and pulling her cunt closer, he lapped the juice inside her.

Andrea began to sing softly, taking her rhythm from the steady strokes of his tongue. “My lover’s my lover because I’m loving his loving,” she cooed slowly, “nothing I won’t do because there’s nothing I ain’t done.” Andrea squeezed her breasts in tempo, lifting her hardened nipples with each beat of his tongue over her clit. Tension welled inside her and Andrea forgot the song.

Kevin pushed his legs under him, onto the bed as he drove Andrea onward with his tender melody. Tightening her bottom, she arched her back and pushed back against him to squeal a shiver of release. Kevin smiled as she shuddered and lifted himself forward to plunge his hardened prick into Andrea’s shivering lips.

“Your pussy is so sweet,” he whispered as he sternly stroked his way deep inside.

“You’re sweet,” she echoed, lost in the tremors of her ecstasy.

“I love you,” he said, fucking her with serious intensity.

“Love,” she said, her eyes still far away.

“I’ll love you forever,” he said, kissing her in a burst of savage passion as the words escaped his troubled lips.

“Forever,” she demanded. Kevin groaned and in a maddened thrust, Kevin lost the beat. Andrea wiggled underneath him playfully and he resumed a slow, deliberate push and pull of his wet cock into her wet cunt.

“So beautiful,” Kevin said, kissing the sweat from her brow. Andrea wrapped her arms around him and held him tight.

“I love you,” she said.

“Hush,” he said, stroking her golden hair. They fell into a quiet slumber, wrapped in an embrace.

Andrea woke and pulled herself free. Stepping into the tiny bathroom, Andrea wet a washcloth and gently wiped the mess dribbling down her thighs. Kevin stirred and sat up.

“Sometimes,” he said, “I hate this.”

“So don’t do it,” Andrea said.

“Not that,” Kevin said, retrieving his underpants. “Leaving you.”

“You couldn’t take care of me,” Andrea said quietly.

“No,” he said, “I couldn’t take care of myself.” He pulled up his black trousers and zipped them up.

“No, you can’t,” said Andrea, picking up her bra.

“I know you don’t love me,” Kevin said thoughtfully, pulling on his shirt, “but I don’t know why you pretend you do.”

“Maybe I’m just hoping I’ll figure it out.” Andrea leaned over to fit the white cups over her breasts.

“By profaning the emotion?”

“Something like that,” Andrea said. She turned her panties around forward and stepped into them.

“Maybe you’re just being cruel.” Kevin picked up his tie.

“Cruel?” she asked.

“Tormenting me for loving you.”

“Bullshit,” Andrea said, pushing her head through her dress. “You don’t love me either.”

“I do,” Kevin protested, staring intently into the mirror as he tied a double Windsor, “but I don’t know why.”

“Yeah,” said Andrea, walking out of the bedroom. “Why.”

Kevin followed her. Andrea picked up her purse and opened the door. Sunlight flooded the bare room.

“Wait,” he said. She turned and kissed him.

“I’ve got to go,” Andrea said, but paused. “Maybe that’s why.”

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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