Eat Me or Be Eaten? That’s The Question

The proposition of taking my pants off is on the plate. I settle into the well loved springs of the couch. He pauses with his work and I give him a once over. His brown eyes refuse to give me any tells of what he might have in store for me.

This Unicorn of a man is fuck all handsome. He has a light patch of a beard on his chin. There’s this smirk his full lips create that I’m addicted to already. It’s not his looks as much as his incredible intuition and undeniable intelligence.

I don’t know how I ended up in his apartment right now. It’s only our second time of meeting and our first in a private place. I don’t know how or why I keep ending up with these good looking, intelligent and delectable men in my life.

I access the risk of him pouncing on me if my pants come off. He calmly stares back at me with this incomprehensible expression. My lips purse as my resolve ebbs away to resist keeping the pants on.

“Okay, you have a point.”

I stand up and pull at the belt I wore just to prevent this from happening. Men have a hard time taking off belts but not as much as with bras. I’m tempted to give my guy friends lessons on how to adeptly remove a bra. But, I figure I’m dangerous enough with my sexual sense of humor.

The jeans grip my legs as if saying this isn’t the smartest idea. I shove my foot on the ends of one leg and peel it off. The second leg is removed and I kick them away from me.

He and I stare at each other. I’m acutely aware of my cheekie underwear I specifically wore because of the cute pink bow in the middle. His face is still unmoving, and I place both hands on my ass.

“That’s the quickest a guy has ever gotten me out of my pants. At least I wore cute underwear,” I say.

My hands shift to my hips and I jut one hip forward. He has a small smile on his face with a look that clearly says he won this battle. I see him sneak a quick look at my ass with an approving nod.

“Hey, I didn’t do it, you did. And I merely gave you a suggestion.”

I crawl back onto the couch and lie with my feet stretched out. His hand touches my bare skin and I look away from his face. My breath catches and I tell myself to control my reactions. The Unicorn man works into my inner thigh and it’s intense and wonderful. His face becomes thoughtful and I catch his eye.

I can see he’s pondering a question to ask. I’m even more aware of my half naked status but he keeps everything as professional as one can on a couch.

“Did you shave recently for me?” he asks.

My mouth instinctively falls open. This man blows my mind with how much he can garner with so little. I swear there isn’t a hint of razor burn on my upper inner thighs.

I moisturized my legs after my shower. I remember running my fingers over the incredibly smooth skin with an approving nod earlier today. I keep my gaze on him and I don’t say a word.

My silences would normally mystify and frustrate most men. I know he can read my silence being the answer of yes without wanting to admit anything.

“Yes, how did you know?”

“Just because, I appreciate it,” he says.

He’s so straight laced with everything he says. His voice is even but now I’ve given him a physical tell that I might have expected something more to happen.

His fingers brush the lips of my labia accidentally. Or, so I think since he corrects his positioning in the next moment. My body doesn’t react and listens to my request not to fall into his fingers. I want to impale myself on them and resist this innate desire.

“Sorry, I may get a little too close to some things. And I’m not sorry if it’s welcome.”

I keep myself silent and my body refuses to relax. His touch is like static electricity on my sex starved skin. I can’t remember any time in my life where a man touched me so intimately within such a quick span of time.

Never, it’s never happened the realization keeps repeating in my head. He works quietly with the adorable look of someone trying to find tight muscles and attempting to release them.

Our eyes lock for a second and I see a suppressed desire in their brown depths. He’s a person who controls perfectly but I see through him right now. There’s a sense of victory at his mask finally breaking. He keeps moving but his next words cause my mouth to drop open.

“I want to eat you out so bad right now.”

I fall into a never ending, stunned silence. My mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water desperately gasping for breathable air. There’s very few people, or moments in my life, that someone renders me speechless.

It was just so random that my mind wasn’t prepared for that variable to happen yet. He laughs and I try to sink further into the couch. I wish it could swallow me whole in this moment as I realize he won this round.

“What? You’ve never had anyone be that blunt before? Are you not used to someone saying what is on their mind?”

“All my friends are incredibly blunt just like me. They tell me exactly what’s on their mind but that… I don’t know what to say.”

Yet, I do know what to say exactly. Do it right here, right now, pull these oppressive panties off and get to work. Don’t stop until I’m screaming and crying from the sheer pleasure of it all. I want you to devour me like you’ve been starved for days and I’ve been your first meal in forever.

I don’t say any of this and keep it all internal. My body hums and my insides make that delicious churn when I’m turned on. His smile doesn’t help the situation. It’s a Cheshire grin I want so solidify in my memory.

“You’re blushing right now,” he says.

His tone raises slightly in surprise. The grin grows larger and I cross my arms across my chest. I’m sure my face has turned into a sort of defiant pout at this accusation.

“You’re wrong, I don’t blush. Just like I’m not ticklish.”

“Everyone blushes if they’re embarrassed it’s the blood rushing in response to stimuli.”

“I don’t get embarrassed. Ever. I was raised in a family that it made it impossible for anything to embarrass me.”

He puts his hands on either side of my face gently. I’d normally punch any other human being who has only seen me twice for this presumptuous gesture. I have an innate fear of people touching my nose especially. I avoid it all costs like an anti-touch ninja. Yet, here is this man I hardly know cradling this part of me so softly it feels perfect.

If my body was ready to have him this moment just intensified my desire ten fold. He cradles my face in his hands and even I can’t deny the warmth radiating from my cheeks.

My pout becomes furious as I narrow my eyes at him. I hate people figuring me out and he finally releases my cheeks. There’s this soft chuckle that drives me even more insane. I fight the urge to pounce at him and force him underneath me to see who is blushing then.

“You are blushing, your cheeks are hot.”

“Whatever, get back to work.”

I neither deny nor comply to his realization and I know he’s right. Doesn’t mean he gets the satisfaction of my agreeing with his discovery.

His hands work deeper into my upper thigh muscles and my eyes roll back in my head. My body tenses involuntarily but it feels like the most glorious thing. That good hurt where your body wants to break and bend at the same time. I’ve lived for this kind of intensity and it’s been lacking in my life for years.

“Too much pressure?”

“Never too much.”

“Well time to lie on your stomach. I gotta get your other side.”

I look back at him with an eyebrow raised. The prone position is the kind that someone can be subdued within. All that needs to be done is to pull the arms behind their back and it’s over. At least it is for me because I’m unsure of my counter attack after that.

I’m afraid that we’ll push past the bounds of my restrained and locked up sexuality. And I’m even more terrified it’ll never be trapped again if we do act on our passions.

A continuing series thanks to Ryguy and his screams of ‘more, more!’ 💚

Part 1- Fucking with People Isn’t a Problem

Part 2- Fuck or Be Fucked?

Part 3- I Choose be Fucked

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