Smut & Filth. Chapter nineteen.

"A Glorious Morning".

It was her turn to wiggle uncomfortably in her seat.

Their last evening together approached and, although she’d rather have spent it lying in front of the fire with him, he’d insisted they go out to eat. She’d laughed a filthy laugh when he’d suggested they “eat out” and he’d laughed when she’d laughed.

She drew the zip of her boots up slowly as he watched from the kitchen, his chin resting on his hands and his elbows on the counter.

“Are you nearly ready or what?” He moaned, though the moan was playful.

“What.”

“I said, are you…”

“I know what you said, I was trying to be funny.”

“Oh, right. Pack that shit in, it doesn’t suit you.”

She stood and walked toward him, the slow clip-clop that the heels of her calf length boots made on the aging floorboards echoing around the tall room. He smiled at her, his eyes never leaving hers as he waited patiently for the kiss that he knew would come.

“Tasty.” He said as she used a thumb to remove her lipstick from his lips.

“The kiss or me?”

“Both.”

It was twilight as they left the apartment, but the heat of the day prevailed as they made their way up the street and toward the side of town she was yet to experience.

Tables were sitting outside the restaurant on the uneven cobbles that separated the large, plate glass windows, behind which diners dined, from the narrow street along which wanderers wandered.

“Chez Yvon,” the sign above the door read.

They drank wine as they ate. She tried escargot for the first time and discovered they tasted just like garlic butter. The steaks they ate were bloody and the cakes they ate sickeningly sweet.

“I don’t want to go home.” She said as he drained his glass of gin and tonic.

“I’ll get us another drink, then.”

“I didn’t mean that, I meant…”

“I know what you meant.” He leaned across and kissed her.

They walked back to the apartment slowly, both secretly hoping that the walk would last forever.

It didn’t.

She sat on the bed and watched him light the fire. It wasn’t cold enough that the flames be necessary, but she loved watching the flames so she’d insisted.

“It’s my last night,” She’d pursed her lips as she spoke, “I deserve to be spoilt.”

They made love slowly in front of the flickering flames. He peppered her face with gentle, feather light kisses as she came and then, once his own orgasm had followed and subsided, they rolled, still intimately connected, onto their sides where eventually she felt him grow again and again they made love.

At some point they slept. At some point they climbed into the bed and slept some more. At one point she awoke and looked at his slumbering face and she felt tears for the inevitable separation that loomed. At another point he awoke and did likewise. They slept, their legs intertwined and her face on his chest, as the fire died and as the sun rolled lazily into the sky.

He woke first and took her hand, placing it on the erection that he’d woken with. Still asleep she had masturbated him, only waking when she felt his hot seed on her stomach. She realised what had happened, smiled and murmured “Good morning, baby.”

“It’s glorious, isn’t it? He kissed her forehead and slipped from beneath the bedclothes. “Brew up, it’s your turn.” He called over his shoulder, scratching his arse and heading for the bathroom.

“I’ll just sort myself out then, shall I?” She called after him.

“Just get the motor running, baby,” He shouted over the noise of the shower as he turned it on. Popping his head back around the door he grinned and said with a wink, “And do it whilst you make me a coffee.”

Continue to next chapter.