Sunday Fantasy

Copyright © 2009 by Tiki Kritzer Seger.  All rights reserved.


It's a quiet Sunday afternoon.  Outside the whole world is blindingly white from yesterday's snowfall and there are glittering icicles hanging from the balcony rail, but inside it is warm and cosy.  A lazy sunbeam splays across my reclining body and gives me a sleepy, sexy feeling.


I'm laying on the raw leather loveseat facing the balcony door with my feet hanging over the edge at one end and my head propped on the softly upholstered armrest on the other.  I'm wearing old, black sweatpants, a baggy, long sleeved, grey cotton pullover and 2 pairs of knit socks.  My glasses rest lightly on the base of my nose and my hair is pulled up into a loose knot at the top of my head. The drawstring on my pants is untied and I have my fingertips buried in the light brown curls under my basic black, all cotton, bikini panties.


As I sleepily stroke my aroused body, slowly increasing the pace of the rhythm, I hear a loud click and the handle on the locked balcony door is forced open.  I raise my eyes to see a huge, muscular man stepping onto the pale stone tiles of the living room floor; as he slides the door closed behind him his dark blue eyes focus first on my face and then slide down to the hand which is hidden between my legs.  I return his regard warily while noticing little details: he is wearing snug, faded blue jeans, black sneakers, a soft, knit sweater with an abstract design in blue, black and grey wool and thin, black, leather gloves; his thick, dark brown hair falls in unruly curls around a rather angular, almost ugly, but extremely masculine face.


My fingers begin to move again; almost of their own accord.  The front of the man's jeans starts to expand and he rubs his hand across the growing bulge.  I raise my eyes to meet his and my body convulses again and again as I come, vibrating softly against my franticly moving fingertips.  He unzips his jeans and pulls them down together with his tight, black, nylon boxer shorts just far enough for his member to spring out in my direction, then he wraps his hand around it and slowly slides his strong, gloved fingers up and down; a drop of creamy liquid appears on the tip of his glans and his whole body shudders once violently.


I stand up, walk around the loveseat, pull my sweatpants down to my knees and bend over the arm of the couch.  I wait and caress my heated body.  After a long minute, I hear him move behind me.  With a groan, he places his hands on my waist and shoves his way inside of me in one smooth motion; I feel him jerk within me and he swallows audibly; then he starts to move.  As his hips slam against mine, I come again and again, until I am so weak that I can only tremble and lean against the side of the couch.  He moans, a low, tortured sound, and I feel him twitch and spurt over and over; he rests his head against my back for a moment and our breathing slowly returns to normal.


After a couple of minutes, he stands up straight, yanks up his clothes, zips his jeans and leaves the way that he had come.  I pull up my pants and tie them closed; then I lay back down on the loveseat and pick up my book from the low, marble table beside me.  I turn the page.