The Slut

I was breathing down his neck. My sultry lips wetting every molecule of his skin. I ran my fingers through his hair as my lips and tongue strolled down his sweaty neckline. I could sense his trembling heart. Unlike his body, it was not obvious. He closed his eyes. Out of pleasure or weakness, I couldn’t tell. But my vagabond tongue did not fail to control the tempest in his mind. His form was slowly moving with mine. He held my waist and felt my lower back. The scented candles only added to his woe. And my pleasure.


We sunk deep into the bed. I sensed that he was letting go. His ears were dripping with pleasure. I sucked on his earlobes till he shivered in ecstasy. He made funny sounds. But clearly, he was turned on. My succulent mouth devoured his flesh like a famished tigress. Fishlike, he was now entranced by my sensuous affection. I whispered in his ears… of his unfailing charm, of his impeccable wit and his chiseled physique. Timeless weapons.

Interestingly, the flame flickered each time I went below his navel. He was now restless. Like all men. He was slowly directing me towards his notion of paradise. Spreading his legs, tugging me lower and unbuttoning his jeans to add to the implicit indicators. I bit his thigh… throwing him into a rapturous fit.

Unsurprisingly, he had forgotten all about her. His poems of eternal love attained sudden mortality. The poems, like most things do, were weakening with age. The glint in his eye became a commodity. I purchased it. By cooking him a meal today, drinking with him and missing her with him. Empathy is more powerful than money. Here he was, the love for his girl, now very gently placed in my mouth. Coming In and Out in a delirious rhythm. Love has a unique habit of disappearing in the face of the three A’s - alcohol, attraction and absence. Usually in that order. It’s fucking overrated.

As far as I am concerned, I’ve experienced the sublime pleasure of stripping yet another man of his clothes. And not just his clothes.

With Pleasure,
The Slut