Blind Carnival || Chapter 4. All Mouth and No Trousers

~ Chapter 4 ~ 

All Mouth and No Trousers

By the way, after she peed, she peeked in a cabinet above his sink. Let’s face it, there was still a chance that she’d done the daftest thing in her life, and this night would end poorly for her. She didn’t find anything special: dental floss; a half-empty jar of hair product; one tube of hardly touched hand cream; a bottle of Davidoff Adventure, which she smelled on him before; and a box of condoms. It wasn’t open; and expired this Christmas. So either he’s that thorough in creating his persona, or his story checks out.

She ripped the box and shove a condom into the pocket of her dress. And then added two more.

***

She’s deepening the kiss, opening his lips with her tongue; and he reciprocates. And then he moves away and gasps some air.

“Protection?”

His voice’s strangled, just as it should be in one of her books. He’s already holding a Durex in his hand. She gives him a questioning look.

“I kept it in the wallet for the past five months,” he says with a chuckle.

The rates of condom failure pop in her head. She takes it from his hand and throws it behind the sofa -and takes one out from her dress.

“Possible integrity issues due to the material fatigue,” she murmurs and gently bites the side of his neck.

He guffaws.

She leans back and slides her hand into his pants. How does he even fit in them? The answer is, he doesn’t. As soon as she encircles the base with her fingers, the member rejoices. ‘Literally.’ It jumps to life and out of the confinement of his underwear. Was it coiled there before like a snail?

In the books she’s say that he raspily moans but it sounds more like ‘grrrrbuh’ in reality. She moves off him and slides on the floor between his knees. He lifts his head and stares at her. Due to her eidetic memory for colours, she can attest that his eyes are Air Superiority Blue. They’re wide open, pupils dilated. She holds the condom package between her teeth, just the very corner, not to puncture the content – she’s seen the educational video on Youtube – and then she grabs the waist of his trousers and the pants. He lifts his hips. She moves them just a bit lower so that she can reach his cock, but not enough to make him close his knees.

And then she changes her mind and pushes the condom back in her pocket.

She take him – meaning, his cock – in her hand and lowers her mouth on him. Another set of meaningless consonants bursts out of him; and she pushes her lips along his length all the way down.

She actually never liked that before. It didn’t bother her with Allan, but she can’t say she’d ever offered if he wasn’t asking. Considering it was a much easier task with him. Pretty much she had to handle a Kirby, and this one is an English. And yes, she does know cucumbers – and of course because of a past book research. The protagonist in that novel was a farmer; and the heroine with a heaving chest was a spoilt heiress, who accidentally bought his land. Blah-blah-blah, lots of steamy shag in a hothouse. All puns intended.

Right now she feels she might orgasm from the feeling of his cock sliding through her lips. She momentarily thinks that the next time she wants to wear red lipstick to see the traces of her efforts on him, following all possible horrific clichés of poor quality erotica novels. Then she fleetingly questions her mental health. Next time? Lipstick? She doesn’t even like red lipstick. It looks like ketchup to her.

She moans and doubles her efforts.

Firstly, she always does your research. She watches educational videos, reads books, and she has a whole empty room for supplies and equipment. When possible, most of them have been tested. Obviously, she’s had no man to use as a guinea pig and shag six ways to Saturday, but she has studied all available tools. Again with the puns, Olivia? Of course it has given her only a limited understanding, but she can always write around the voids.   

On the other hand, to understand the mechanism of deepthroating on a dildo isn’t that hard. Also, as weird as it sounds, medical journals for general public provide amazing insights in the human anatomy. Such as the technique of suppressing one’s gag reflex by squeezing one’s right thumb in the same fisted hand. The article was on seasickness, but look how useful it can be!

Through a dizzying arousal she’s surprised to notice that she doesn’t mind the taste. He tastes delicious, his skin has this fresh grassy smell and flavour – and she gets carried away. In just a few seconds he grabs a handful of her hair, and she batters his hand away. She really doesn’t want to give up any control at the moment. But then she realizes that he’s trying to make her let go. His cock shows all the signs that he’s close – and she does something she’s never done before. She take him in even deeper, clenching she throat around him. He comes, with a hoarse cry, his salty seed hitting the back of her throat. She doesn’t know his preferences in this area, so she goes with the generally approved technique and continues moving, much more gently now.

He’s panting and emitting adorable half sobs, half chuckles, his head dropped at the back of the sofa, his body shaking. She carefully lets him go and thinks she should probably go wash her face. She rubs his knee.

“I’ll be right back.”

There’s no answer. His eyes are closed; and he’s still breathing like a thoroughbred after a harness race.

***

She goes to the bathroom, somewhat – and pleasantly – wobbly. She remembers seeing an unopened toothbrush in the vanity. She’s energetically rinsing her mouth, when two thoughts come to her head.

Firstly, she enjoyed it. Previously, despite all her education in the area she still perceived it as sort of a favour. It’s troublesome; demands a lot of effort; and, whatever they say, is rather unsanitary. Right now, she’s buzzing with so much pleasure that she’s bobbing on her toes, and the acute feeling of immense power is running through her. Obviously, the process can be turned around, and a woman can be a submissive provider for sexual gratification in this situation, but she feels anything but such right now. A pun around the word ‘ravish’ pops up in her head.

The second thought is that for the first time in her sex life she’s not narrating in her head. She was always ‘writing’ in her head with Allan. Given, she was just describing what was happening. It’s not like she was fantasizing about someone else instead of him near her – well, maybe once or twice – and obviously after a while her thoughts would jumble and the narration would turn into internal and external squeaks.

Once she touches John, her head is blissfully empty.

She’s not sure if the two of them are going to go on right now, but there’s one thing she needs to take care of at the moment. She’s wearing endlessly comfortable, but completely unalluring knickers. They are classic briefs, white and plain, and a lot of fabric was used to make them. She considers it and then takes them off and stuffs them in the dress pocket. Don’t you just love these pockets in a full skirt dress? You can fit your knickers and three condoms in them and still have room for something else.

He knocks at the bathroom door.

“Can I?”

She opens with a foamy toothbrush in her hand, and he steps in and sweeps her into a full blown kiss. He’s probably consuming a lot of toothpaste right now, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He wraps his arms around her and presses her into him. His hand slides into her hair, the second one under her skirt where it greedily cups her left buttock. She reckons this answers the question whether they’re going to continue.

At that moment he realizes that his hand is on her naked skin, and he makes that ‘grrrr’ sound again. He picks her up and seats her on the sink counter. She drops the toothbrush and pushes her fingers into his hair. They’re kissing, and she wraps her legs around his waist. The height of the counter is slightly off. She’s sitting too high; his pelvis is pressed into the drawer door beneath her, and not into her demanding attention regions. And she doesn’t particularly like that.

She pulls him closer and wraps her arms around his neck.

“John…”

He hums into her neck that he’s kissing currently.

“I want to go to bed now.”

He picks her up and carries her to the bedroom. She’s sliding down a tad; gravity after all doesn’t care about the demands of her libido; but he eventually finds just the right away to settle her backside on his palms. He pauses in front of the bed, clearly pondering how to lower her on it without dislocating some of her or his joints; and then he turns his back to it and simply flops on it. Smart man. She’s straddling him, and she is more than fine with it. Judging by a radiant smile on his face, he is as well.

She grabs a condom and pushes her hand in his still unbuttoned trousers. A bit of shuffling, the pants are down again; and she rolls out the Durex on him. Even if he’s indeed lacking in technique, which still has to be determined, he definitely compensates in the recoil time. The cock seems even bigger this time, and she chew on her bottom lip. Seven years; no man. Allan was much smaller. And that also sort of lead to her toys being rather moderate. Well, as they say, in for an inch…

She lowers herself on him… and hisses. The stretching is rather painful, despite how eager she’s been; and she needs to breathe through it. He’s gently stroking her thighs under her skirt; it’s a nice distraction, his warm skin on hers. It takes couple more seconds to ‘lower’ herself fully. He’s smiling to her, tenderly, letting her gather her bearings, as they say – or he’s just that passive. Either works. She leans down and kisses him. He answers, his thumbs rubbing your cheekbones; and she smiles into his lips.

And then she presses her palms into his shoulders and starts to move.

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Katya Kolmakov
Katya Kolmakov. Mother. Writer. Artist. Fanfiction and Wattpad. First novel on Amazon http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00XJ16W7W.

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