Kitchen

We had a good time at the party.  In the ballroom we have been dancing for what seems like hours.   As the party winds down, we say goodbye and goodnight to the other guests as they drift away to their rooms. Everyone looks a little drained and exhausted. It is fortunate that we're staying at this hotel, since we've both been drinking and my head is swimming. 

There are still a few people left in the ballroom, small groups talking, laughing.  They might stay there for a few minutes or a few hours, who knows.  I give a quick kiss on your mouth, pressing strongly and I feel your lips tingling, your breath excited.  Your cheeks are flushed and reddened, and you have a broad smile.  You pull close to me and kiss me again.  I kiss you back, harder this time.  We both know how we're feeling.  We both know we need some privacy right now.  That the ballroom is too big, too echoing, even if we could somehow get everyone else to leave.  Fortunately, we know that the adjoining kitchen is empty, the staff having left hours ago.   When no one seems to be watching us, we sneak out through the swinging doors and into the kitchen.  It is warm and humid in there from the steam,  quite a change from the ballroom.  Hand and hand, we wind our way through the tables and islands in the kitchen towards the back, where we're partially out of view of anyone who might be walking past the kitchen doors and peering.  One table seems convenient to rest against for a bit, and I lean back. As I do, you kiss me, unusually intensely, pushing me backwards, and then you suddenly sink to your knees in front of me.

I feel a swift tug on my trousers and it takes a second for me to realize what you are doing.  Then, I snap into focus, as you methodically unbutton them, one hand deftly working each button free and the other swirling around my thighs. That hand finds its target, still caught up in my pants, and gently nudges it, presses it and then rubs.  One the buttons are undone, you dive in with both hands, extracting my member from where it has been constrained into my clothing.   My hands reach down to caress your face, your nostrils open as you catch the scent of my excitement.  I am throbbing, engorging with blood, raising.  You lean in and plant a first few inquisitive kisses on its head.  Then, down the shaft, as your hands finish detaching my clothes and giving you free access to everything inside.  My breathing becomes more intense as I feel the sensations move through my thighs and up my chest. Your tongue explores the ridges of the head and lines of the blood vessels that are filling me up. Then, you open your mouth and bring me inside.  You look up at me, smiling, your eyes wide and locked onto mine, full of intent as I watch part of me disappear inside of you, and then your cheeks pull in and my mind disappears.  

Your tongue is making patterns and writing letters that send shiver after shiver through me.  I reach out to you, holding you, rubbing you.  I notice you doing the same, with one hand reaching down into your shirt and stimulating your nipple while the other keeps a grasp on my shaft. You apply pressure and intensity onto me, pulling me, bringing me closer.  But, through our mutual pleasure, we know we can't stay like this for long.  We hear sounds coming from outside the kitchen.  Sounds of people slowing moving closer, perhaps looking for us.  Maybe they can dimly hear us, they wonder what those noises are coming from the kitchen.  Some of them might be thinking clearly enough to recognize the sounds of passion and intimate kissing, and they know not to be looking for us too intently or too quickly.    They give us time.  Your hand moves more intently.  Your tongue presses firmly, holding me in your mouth.  I give in to you, following your rhythm, as you beat a steady motion of grasping and releasing.   It is inevitable.  A clench, a groan, you push your head deep into me as I push into you, your nose nestled in my hair. I release a wave inside of you.  I feel your tongue swivel around as the next spurts splash deep into your mouth.  You hold me close to catch every drop.  I relax, and then take you by the shoulders and pull you up to me.  You are disheveled, your hair tangled from my fingers, your breasts uncovered, your lips sticky with a mix of wine, sweat and my juice.  Our kiss.

I want to take you again, right there, on the table, or perhaps on the floor.  But we are about to be discovered.  You bend down to give me one more kiss before stuffing me back into my pants.  Then, throwing a shawl over you to cover you, you dash off down a corridor towards our room, and I chase you. You were in charge for this round, but we both know what will happen when we get to a more private place and I catch you there.