On her days off, Emily loved nothing more than finding the perfect spot in the sun at her local cafe, ordering her favourite hot drink (a spiced chai latte with a shot of espresso), and picking the minds of some of her favourite foregone readers.
Today was no different, and Sarah had chosen to pick the mind of Dostoyevsky- perhaps she was feeling a little melancholic after all. She loved the cafe, nestled between two great trees which had protruded through the sidewalk of the alley adjacent to her studio apartment. It made her feel like she was hiding from the city- and she often was.
Even better, the music always seemed to match her mood. Today, she walked in to ‘Fade Into You’ coming through the speaker just above her booth. Her spiced chai arrived, and her first sip left a line of foam on her top lip, which made her smile, baring a perfect set of pearly whites.
That was when she saw him. He had been looking over at her at the very moment that she began giggling at herself. She blushed. He smiled at her as if they shared some sort of secret, and she felt her pink cheeks blossom even further. Involuntarily, her eyes moved to trace the perfect lines of his unbelievably toned body, and finally she realised why he was smiling at her. In his hands, rested in his crotch, was a novel by Dostoyevsky- the very same one he had been perusing. She laughed aloud, and snorted. Oh, god, when she thought she couldn’t turn any pinker. But he seemed to find her endearing, because his smile only widened.
Well, romantic meets cute of the rom-com variety don’t come around all that often, she thought to herself, and so she got to her feet, and made her way over to the brain wrapped in a suit of muscle and perfectly tanned skin. His hair was a sandy blonde, and he was freckled. A surfer, she guessed. A surfer who reads Dostoyevsky- holy crap.
“So, you’re thinking of ending it all over a woman you met once, too?” Russian literature jokes were kind of her thing.
“No, I was thinking of just meandering around in the snow all night, screaming at god about how unlovable he made me,” he joked right back.
“Sexy”, she laughed. The two of them sat, in the booth across from hers, as the sun travelled the distance from where she once sat to where she now sat. It was as if the sun came up to remind her that she didn’t have all the time in the world to sit and flirt with the hot literature dude.
Because as soon as it touched her, she realised that she had been in a haze, and that three hours had gone by. She knew that she couldn’t stay, but didn’t want him to leave, and so, without thinking, the words escaped her mouth: “Would you like to come over and… peruse the old bookshelf?” And before she could regret opening her mouth he said, “sure” with a certain fire in his eye that inspired a shiver down her spine and a tingle in her vagina.
Back home, she put the kettle on, as if they hadn’t just consumed two litres of coffee each at the cafe. But she didn’t know what else to do. He chuckled, “Just water is fine with me”, he said with a smile in his voice.
Why was she so nervous? This wasn’t her first time bringing a man home… Something about the way he looked at her- no, the way he looked into her. After pouring the water she turned, not realising that he had snuck up behind her, and as she walked smack into the front of him, she lost half the glass of water to his shirt and jeans.
“Oh god! I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you…” He chuckled, “It’s okay, I thought I’d be cute, and sneak in a kiss– anyway, I guess I’ll have to take these wet clothes off to dry, don’t you think?” and suddenly the atmosphere in the room became a whole lot thicker with sexual tension. “
That sounds about right.” she said. He didn’t move, he was still a couple of inches from her when he took the half-glass of water from her hands, and slowly tipped it out onto the front of her shirt. “Let’s even the playing field, shall we?” he said.
The next thing she knew, the two of them were ripping each other’s clothes off, haphazardly making their way to the bedroom, intermittently sticking their tongues down one another’s throats. He tasted sweet, with a hint of the ocean- definitely a surfer. By the time they reached the bed they were both stark naked, and before she got to see his dick, it was inside of her.
The sensation was sudden, and her wet pussy welcomed him warmly. She shuddered at the feeling of him inside of her, and she rocked her hips along with his as he thrusted. She stifled moans of pleasure and pain (just the right amount) as she kept her lips pressed to his, rocking harder and harder as he went. With each thrust, she felt the enormity of his penis fill her, and with each thrust, her vagina gave way to let him deeper and deeper.
The g-spot. Holy fuck, she couldn’t stifle it any longer, a loud “ohhh!” escaped her, and she dug her nails into his perfect back. This only turned him on more. He was fucking her hard and fast now, the headboard playing a quick rhythmic beat against the wall.
Her “ohhh” became an “ahhh!” as her moans turned into screams of pleasure. He began moaning too, and arching his back- he was close to coming. He bit her lip, drawing blood, and just in time, she felt her pussy clench around his cock. She was on the edge and he was right there with her.
Emily rocked against him with force- he liked it rough- the two of them screaming in mutual pleasure. And then she felt it- she began convulsing, from her toes, to her legs, her hips, and her arms, her entire body consumed with the purest fucking ecstasy. Her convulsions must have carried him home, because just then, she felt her pussy fill with his cum. He collapsed onto her, the two of them panted in silence, drenched in sweat, enjoying the utter bliss of the moment.
“Maybe Dostoyevsky just needed a good fuck,” he said.