The twelfth submission to The Fellatio Project is by Arden Aoide…her words can be found here.  This piece adds a little culture to our midst.

Author’s note:  The title is inspired by the hymn, Blest Feast of Love Divine, by Edward Denny (1796-1889)

Therefore we, before him bending, 

this great sacrament revere;

types and shadows have their ending,

for the newer rite is here…

—from Now, My Tongue, the Mystery Telling, by Thomas Aquinas

 

Photo by Fae00
Photo by Fae00

Dinner was lovely.

The table was small and intimate, barely enough room for the wine and dinner. It was their second official date, the first being a diner after an office party where they’d consumed a bit more than their fair share of spirits. He’d kissed her cheek after he’d walked her straight to her apartment door, up ten flights in the elevator, and she’d wondered how easy she’d seem if she’d invited him in. No matter, as he’d kissed her and left like a perfect gentlemen.

She liked to reward gentlemanly behavior. It made her mouth water in anticipation.

Their table was next to the cigar lounge and smoke wafted out in soft plumes that created a pleasant haze all around. He was laughing at something she’d said, and quite suddenly, with an innocent smile and wicked twinkle, he sucked his pinky into his mouth. Her eyes didn’t stray from that mouth until his finger was sucked clean again, and she looked down to see what was so appetizing.

Oh, right. Half-eaten dessert. Dark chocolate with a rich red raspberry sauce.

“You seem to be enjoying dessert,” she said unnecessarily. She didn’t want to eat another bite. She wasn’t drunk, but she was very pleasantly buzzed, and she wanted to remain in control and aware for what she wanted to do. It’s all she’d thought about since the diner, and it had been a long time since she’d had such single-minded lustful determination.

“I’ve got a bit of a sweet tooth,” he agreed. He ducked his head with a shy smile, running his finger through the rich sauce again. His dark hair still shone through the smoke.

His wet finger was running lazily through the sauce and she wondered for the millionth time if this was supposed to be as arousing as she’d found it. She had a sudden flashback of Catholic school and being on her knees in front of the pew in repentant prayer. And she’d said many prayers. Not of her past sins, but of the depravity of her thoughts. After months of prayer, she began to create indecent scenarios of priests and frocks, and of uniforms and torn stockings. She took a deep breath and pushed those thoughts away for now. She looked up at his face and he averted his eyes at the last moment. She bit her lip and slipped a leg between his. “Are you going to share?”

Razor sharp eyes on hers until they cut away again. He stilled his finger for a moment before pressing it through the chocolate sauce, as well as the raspberry before he met her eyes again. Assessing. She didn’t flinch. He brought up his finger, licked the side of excess, and brought it to her in offering. A Carnal Communion. His eyes flickered between his finger and her mouth until she swallowed it from across the table. His legs squeezed hers involuntarily and he let out a stuttering breath. She sucked softly, not tasting the rich sauces, not when he was looking at her like that.

Slow as molasses, she slid her lips forward and back, watching him and listening to his breath. Remembering that she was in a room full of people, she pulled off slowly with the slide of her tongue and a nip of sharp teeth. “It’s a good thing I live close, yeah?”

He nodded slowly, then quickly, and looked around to flag down their server. It took entirely too long, but her leg between his still, was distracting enough. When it was time to leave, he grabbed her hand, and she had to run to keep up.

It was a long ten flights. Particularly when it was a busy night in her building and people were in and out on several floors.

First floor.

A number of people filed out of the elevator, and five, including them went in. Numbers were pushed. Her back was pressed against his front, and she took a surreptitious wet swipe of her own thumb and rubbed the moisture up and down his middle finger. His other hand pressed hard into her hip and she ran her thumb even more slowly, from the tip of his nail all the way to the middle of his palm

Second floor.

One person exited. Several more entered, pressing her against his erection, causing him to groan against her neck. “Are you going to get on your knees for me?”

She shuddered against him. “Whatever you like.”

“Are you wet?” He stroked one hand down her hip.

“If I am?” She ground against him.

Third floor.

The elevator opened, but none moved. Someone’s mistake, then. He raised his head and looked to see if anyone was paying them any attention. He knelt down just a bit and ran his hand up the inside of her thigh under her dress. He moved her sodden knickers away with his thumb and pressed easily, so easily inside her. He rubbed his hand against her, soaking it.

Fourth floor.

The elevator emptied, and none entered. This was where the party was apparently. He let out a relieved breath and pressed in deeper.

She held her breath and tried not to ride his hand, but it was difficult. “If I am?” She whispered, again.

Fifth floor.

Four people entered and number four was pressed.

His hand stilled against her briefly before he slowly removed it, causing her to slump against him.

Sixth floor.

Two more people entered. Fourth floor.

He turned her around to face him. He moved his thumb up her neck and over her bottom lip. It was still wet.

Seventh floor.

One person in. Fourth floor.

He dipped his thumb into her mouth, pushing in and out slowly. She moved her tongue languidly over the digit and her eyes fluttered closed. He grabbed her hip tightly.

Eighth floor.

Six people wanted in, but there wasn’t enough room. He thought he’d make room. He wrenched his thumb away from her fiendish mouth and pulled her out and away from the elevator, down the hall, and into the stairwell. He pressed her quickly against the door with his entire body, and breathed into her mouth for a moment. He knew what was going to happen, and as much as he wanted it, he hadn’t had someone so very keen before. The anticipation was delicious.

Before he took the breath from her, she ducked out from under him and ran up the stairs before he knew what happened.

She looked down at him breathlessly. “If I am?”

Ninth floor.

If I am? He’d not answered her, had he? Not really. Apparently, she’d wanted an answer. He stalked up the stairs and a leisurely pace, already quite winded. She kept her eyes glued to him and walked backward up to the tenth.

The fucking tenth floor.

Finally.

Her hand was on the knob, but she didn’t turn it. She looked around at him and her eyes moved down automatically, because he was opening his trousers. “Don’t open that yet.”

“Why?” She asked, a bit of natural rebellion coming through.

“Because you’ve asked me a question three times now, and the answer is on this side of the door,” he said confidently. “I want you to get me nice and wet before I let you suck me.”

She turned and pulled her bottom lip into her mouth and looked down at the head of his cock peeking out of his dark briefs. He casually sat down on the stairs next to her and leaned back on his elbows. “I want you to soak me, so that you can taste yourself when I’m fucking your mouth.”

Oh. Oh. Well, it really was her lucky night. She didn’t even bother shucking her knickers. She stepped over his leg and braced herself on the railing while he helped lower her down. He moved her panties over and he didn’t even bother settling her, he just thrust up quickly and pressed deeply inside her.

Oh, how she wanted to be fucked, just then. The feel of his zipper was exquisite against her bottom. She could feel how much he was holding back and she squeezed his cock, causing him to groan loudly. “I don’t think so.” He thrust up once more, roughly and pushed her off. “Go. Unlock your door.”

She wasn’t going to argue. She didn’t even think to look for others out and about on her floor, and barely missed a few walking toward the elevator. She unlocked her door with shaking fingers and they both nearly fell in the door when it was finally open.

He kissed her then for a long moment. “Where do you want me?”

She was surprised by his bit of passiveness, and was tempted to drop to her knees right there by her front door. “Sofa. Pants off.”

And they were off before she’d even kicked her shoes to the side.

She walked him backward towards the sofa and pushed him down. She dropped to her knees inelegantly, scraping them against her concrete floor. There was no pretense at this point as she spread his legs wide and fit herself neatly between them. His cock stood proud and damp and she couldn’t wait to taste it. Oh merciful Father, please forgive my idol worship, and allow me to partake in your most glorious creation…

She pressed her face where thigh met pubis and she rubbed her cheek against his cock, breathing him in, and immersing all her senses.

Smell.

Deep inhaling breath, taking him into her lungs.

Sight.

Slack-jawed and glazed eyes.

Sound.

Quickening, desperate breaths.

Stroke.

Moving her cheek across the damp head, wrapping her hand around him, pressing her mouth against the frenulum, and pulling upwards.

Suck.

The smooth, sweet head slid easily past her parted lips and she held him still on her tongue. She was waiting waiting for it, and he didn’t disappoint. He thrust up roughly, hitting the back of her throat and she felt the urge to bloody her knees raw just so he would continue. The idea of being fucked so crudely was endlessly appealing, if a bit impractical.

He stopped for a moment, his politeness forcing her up, and she looked him in the eye. She didn’t break from his gaze before dropping her mouth over the head, sweeping her tongue around it teasingly, tasting him, and shutting her eyes in complete rapture.

He pulled at the blunt strands of her hair with his fist a little harder than expected. He still looked a little torn and thrust once a little harder than the first. He was rewarded with another sweep of her tongue and a slight moan. She met his eyes again and smiled around his cock. And that did it.

Later on, he’d like to say he was careful, but the moans that he brutally cut short on each thrust and the way her hands scored a sexual stigmata into his inner thighs, he’d be lying. It didn’t take long, luckily for her, as he thickened inside of her mouth, and she pulled back abruptly. Before he could voice his complaint, she encircled him with her hand and jerked him quickly. All while letting the head of his cock lay on her tongue.

He didn’t think there was a naughty enough word to call her in that moment. Certainly not one that was meant as a compliment. Especially as she was swallowing him down like her last supper.

As he painted her tongue and lips, he wondered if the space underneath his desk at work was wide enough to accommodate.

The Fellatio Project
The Fellatio Project

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