Just Making a Little Toast (Erotic Prose)

I bought myself some cinnamon raisin bread as a treat – I try not to make it a staple. I know you like this ass with some meat on it, but I acknowledge the potential for too much of a good thing. So, I'm in the kitchen turning water to wine (or bread into toast, potato/potahto) and I'm thinking about a little piece of flash fiction I started this evening – a frantic fuck in a hospital bed before the doctor comes back with the test results. Unrefined? No doubt. Cheesy? Definitely. But it's got a sort of kinky joie de vivre that I'm compelled to run with.

I butter my toast and toy with dirty ideas for my two little troublemakers to get into and my thoughts shift to, well, you. Cue the inspirational floodgates. The creative way you woke me up this morning, with a hand on my throat, teasing my ass until I was soaking wet and then fucking my pussy until I spewed unintelligible noises of love in your ear and you spewed hot cum all over my ass and your belly.

In this instant I forget all about the task of buttering and close my eyes as a thrill runs through me. I can feel you press your hips against the yielding flesh of my ass. Feel you rock hard and straining against those cute khaki pants you think are so grungy. The hair raises on the back of my neck as I imagine you undoing your belt. I hear the telltale sound of your zipper. I feel you slipping a hand up my skirt and your thick cock finds me, warm and throbbing, confirming the secret only you knew; that I'd gone about all day with no panties. It's quite a short skirt, you'd warned earlier. I'd given you a sly smile and sent up a little prayer that you'd see fit to take advantage of the easy access.

I smile a little at the memory and, since none of my roommates are spending the night at home, I reach down to feel my slick, little pussy and begin to stroke it. A low moan escapes from somewhere in the back of my throat and I stroke faster, more rhythmically. My knees are beginning to feel weak so I drop down, splaying my legs out in front of me with one knee drawn to my chest. I rub faster, a little harder. Though my eyes are shut tight I imagine you kneeling over me, withdrawing that stiff cock almost completely and jamming it back into its slippery hole. I grind my pussy into my hand and moan your name.

My legs go stiff and every muscle in my body seems to tense as I recognize the clues you observed as foretelling the inevitable O. Through gritted teeth, one word comes out as a breathless gasp. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Rocked by waves of pleasure, I become vaguely aware of my juices making my fingers slick, and the room stops spinning.