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Kid for Today

Something always felt wrong when that elicit thrill ran down her spine the instant his lips touched her nipple. It felt like she was surging up from under him, placing herself on a pedestal while he supplicated before her. That wasn’t how things worked, and it wasn’t how she liked things to be. The height made her dizzy, and she wanted to get down. 

It was probably some biological instinct kicking in, Freud’s wet dream manifesting as sensations travelled down her nerves towards her brain. A maternal throwback, the feeling of protection and love mingling with the arousal and lust that already clouded her brain. It felt like there was too much going on, her mind too crowded, and it made her squirm.

Which, evidently, was the exact reason he enjoyed flitting his tongue over the sensitive nub at the tip of her nipple. Why he would recline on the sofa, and arch his eyebrow in such a way that she understood exactly what he wanted, only a moment of hesitation before she took a breath, clambered up off the floor and presented her naked chest to him. It always progressed further, nipples turning into mouths, and they’d kiss while she rolled her hips against him, but he would always colour it in such a way that it felt taboo from the off.

It shouldn’t have surprised her, really. It was one of the reasons she liked him, supplicated and surrendered to him. The kink that ran rampant throughout his mind, perversions and deviances twisting and turning a perfectly innocent train of thought until the filth was a torrent that drowned every word that he spoke, each one sticky treacle. He could make her wet in a sentence, squirm in syllables. 

And, apparently, writhe with that delicious mix of awkward taboo and wonderful arousal with nothing but his lips and a liberal helping of his tongue.