Firelight, a glass of wine, and a good story

PhotoCredit: The Epoch Times

Right now I'm drinking a rather sweet fruity merlot while editing chapter eight of "The Trip", a new novel which I'm thinking of publishing serially, rather than in one lump sum.  We'll see.  Right now it's rather fun.

    The young woman nodded and sank down to her knees.  She rolled until she was sitting and then laid back, spreading her legs wide apart, consciously trying to emulate Breanne’s earlier cooperation.  She reached down and took hold of the bottom part of the vibrator, tugging on it until it came out.  It’s curved tip resisted removal, but she finally had it in her fingers.  With a twist of her finger, she turned it off.  She held it out to Kyle who stood right next to her.  He clicked his tongue and shook his head.
    “You are so lucky you aren’t my personal slave.  Any girl worth her salt knows not to give a slimy vibrator to her master.  She’d lick her own juices off first.”  He said, his tone filled with disgust, even though he held out his hand.  Megan stared at him, but then, rather than surrendering the vibrator, she brought it down to her mouth and slowly slipped it in.  For a second, she thought she would gag, but then she realized that the taste wasn’t unpleasant.  A combination of musk and salt, along with another flavor she couldn’t identify coated the vibrator.  Carefully, she licked the long plastic vibe, finally closing her sultry lips over it, drawing it in and out as if she were giving a blow job.
    She had no idea how lewd and provocative she appeared, lying on her back while sucking her own juices off the vibrator.  Every man there had a hard on, even Josh, who after having three of his own orgasms should have been down and out for the count.  Megan spent almost a full minute slurping her own juice off the vibrator before she handed it up to Kyle.  He replaced the vibrator with the cucumber, it’s cool thickness lying heavy in her hand.

 Yummy.