“Thisis your breakfast,” her hand reaches out, knots in my hair while pulling me in like she’s tired of waiting and then arches into my face.
I laugh deeply before tasting her.
Fuck this was well worth the wait. My tongue circles her clit and runs through her with a satisfying slurp. Her fingers massage my scalp as I do this, like encouragement.
“Yes, big man…” she purrs. And I grip her tighter. Sucking and spitting til her cum ran down my beard.
Yes…now my headache’s gone. Her pussy cured my hangover and made me drunk in other ways. My eyes fall close automatically, as I savor her. I feel my hips jerk against the bed frame, like a dog in heat. The friction feels so good as I’m doing this.
So good I just?—
“Fuck!”
That was my only warning before she painted my face from eyebrow to chin. I have to back up a little.
“I— I am so sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
“Let me get you something.” And she’s up and dashing to the bathroom before I can answer.
This is… a… unique experience.
“Here,” she places something warm and fuzzy on my face. “I wish I had an excuse but this is really something new for me. And you’re the only one it happens with.”
I grin to myself. “Well if I’m so good, I deserve breakfast then.”
Just as she wipes away the remaining release from my eyes I catch her smiling.
“Darling, after that what you just gimme? You can have whatever ya want.”
“Yeah?” I stand now, towering over her. “Well, I want it all. Rice and peas, bully beef, plantain, oxtail, alla dat sumting dere.”
“Um,” she looks mad confused. Yes. The pussy has me speaking patois.
“Anyway, I'm gonna go start—” She looks down and gasps. “Bari!”
“What?”
“H—How did you even manage that?”
I look down at what she’s looking at, only to find the front of my pants soaked in white.
“Christ,” I may have enjoyed that more than I thought I would. “I like you. So what?”
She glancesover her shoulder when she hears my footsteps on the kitchen tile.
After a long shower to think about what I’ve done and put myself in time out, I emerge with a towel around my waist.
“Here,” she pauses stirring her pot to reach into the dryer and throw me the clothes she laundered for me. “We will speak no more of this.”
“Agreed.” I dress quickly and hop onto one of the stools by the counter, the wood creaking under my weight. My elbows rest on my knees, hands dangling uselessly between them.
“You not heading out?” she asks. Her shoulders tense like she’s bracing for an answer she won’t like.
“Naaaah.” I shake my head slowly. “Think I’ll stick around.”
Frankie hums once and turns back to the stove.
