A devout man shows his love to his wife in the morning.

“Do you want some dessert?”

Her voice trails over me like silk dragging across my skin, a tease to the senses. She sits before me on the kitchen counter, wearing only my button-up shirt, sleeves too long for her arms. Her hair, long and wild from sleep, stretches behind her, and her eyes, sleepy but aware, watch me with a smile. One leg shifts from where it had been lightly tapping against the door of a cabinet, the naked ankle slipping up and teasing me more with how the edges of the shirt slip up her thighs.

She is only wearing the shirt.

In her other hand, she holds a cup of coffee, and I hold the twin. I put my cup down, inhaling the scent of her and me and coffee in the morning. “If only the dessert were yourself~”

Her melodic laughter rings through the quiet kitchen, and that tells me all I need to know.

I step forward, kneeling before her like a knight before their queen in reverence, my heart skipping a beat as her eyes widen slightly, her lips puckering in a soft ‘oh’. Then they slip down a little, a teasing smile now my gift as she opens her thighs to me.

“You are so beautiful,” I whisper, and I cup the ankle that had been tapping against the handle of the cabinet. Her foot feels warm this morning, her nail polish flaking off, a small but inconsequential bruise against her ankle from the tapping. I use one hand to cup her heel, my thumb smoothing over her slightly rough skin. The other hand lifts, touching her lower calf slowly. The skin is wrinkled with age, fine hairs bristling with goosebumps from my touch. I lean down, gifting my Queen a kiss on the top of her ankle. “So beautiful to me.”

I can feel her laugh, it’s a laugh that carries over her body in beautiful waves, it makes her eyes brighten and her face lights up. To what end I would go to, to have her smile and laugh all the time, there is no end. There is no end.

I press kisses up her leg, hands smoothing up her skin. There’s a scar here, from a childhood incident, a little beauty mark here that I have pressed kisses and nips and licks to over the years. There is a stretch mark here, just under her knee, and then I let her leg down to thoroughly kiss up her thigh.

Stretch marks are the passage of time, beautiful marks in her skin that showed health. I press a kiss to the bottom of one, trailing my lips up to where it nears the joint of her hip. I roam back down, hearing her stutter of breath, and replace my lips with my tongue.

She shudders out my name, and it feels like ecstasy being poured straight into my spine.

I start over, with her left leg, and she lets out a disappointed sigh. Not to worry, my love, my Queen; I will pleasure you to the edge of oblivion and back.

I roam my lips up her leg, tenderly, my fingers digging lightly into her tense foot. I know how achy her feet get, how tired she gets wearing her favorite shoes, but oh how she adores them. How I adore her in clothes she adores.

When my hands grasp both knees, when my lips graze the crease where her thigh meets hip, I hear her whimper my name. “Please? Don’t you want…dessert?”

“I do believe,” I murmur back, slowly pulling away to stare up at her with an adoring gaze, “this is my whole meal.”

She sucks in a breath, her eyes widening, letting out a breathless giggle before leaning back. My-her-shirt raises, and I am gifted with the very image of Heaven on Earth.

She is wearing a pair of boxer-like panties, and while lingerie may be as sexy to the next as the other, her in her relaxed state sends pleasure racing up my spine. She is here, relaxed, happy to be who she is with me, me.

She giggles again, and I don’t mind, I love her laugh.

My thumbs tease the edge of the boxers. “My love, you look too divine, maybe not a Queen. Maybe a Goddess.”

She trills a laugh as my hand raises, hooking into the waistband of them as she leans back further, sighing in pleasure as I tuck it below the slight belly bulge of age. “You do say such silly things,” she murmurs, placing her cup of coffee down and sliding her warm hand over my head.

I lean up, and I kiss the stretch marks under her belly. I follow each one with my lips, slowly edging the boxers lower, her breath stuttering as she raises her hips. Once they are tucked under her beautiful behind, I stretch them lower, lower, ever lower.

Her beautiful, beautiful pussy is just perfection on Earth.

A beautiful bush of hair hiding her away, like a treasure hunt to find her, find her and bring her to the edge of pleasure and over it. I lower my face down, hearing and feeling her heavy breaths as her fingers tense in my hair.

I swipe my tongue over where I know her clit hides, and she gasps, her legs squeezing quickly around my head. One foot raises, rests on my shoulder, the other pushes up into my ribs. Not away, but to brace.

My hands cup her hips, fingers slotting into the crease between her thigh and hip. They fit as if we were made for each other, molded for one another in the dirt that created humans so long ago.

I lick again, my tongue catching on the hiding nub this time, and she lets out a whimper, her head rolling back in pleasure. She tastes like clean water, a drink in the desert that I am lost in, and I lick again, and again, and again.

Her right thigh starts to quiver, I can feel the muscles jumping under my fingers and I shift, rubbing my thumb across her thigh soothingly as I slowly bury my face into her pretty cunt.

I find her entrance, dewy and soft, and I press the flat of my tongue against it.

She lets out a low moan, hips rolling up as my hand slides free of her hip. She adores being eaten out, but to massage her clit at the same time, roll it between my fingers as if it were a treasured object, has her clenching around nothing. More wetness spills from her, and I lap it up as if I have not had a drink in centuries, eons upon eons.

Finally, finally, I press the tip of my tongue into her, just as I squeeze her clit between my thumb and forefinger.

She shouts my name, her right leg clamping my face to her, her left, the muscles jumping in pleasure as she buries her knee in my side. It doesn’t hurt. My face is soaked, but I lick her to overstimulation, a quick tap of her beautiful fingers has me leaning back slowly. She smiles down at me, a gift from my beautiful Goddess, her breathing ragged and her face burning red as she croons me a compliment.

Nothing will ever beat making her cum with tender kisses and licks, nothing to seeing her toss her head back, hair flying behind her as her voice cracks on my name.

Nothing will ever triumph over her taste of clean water and her own taste that’s just Her. There is nothing like it, no fruit nor nectar as sweet, no meal as decadent as what lay between her legs.

I gently lower her legs, grab a cloth, and wipe my face clean. In return, I am gifted a kiss upon my cheek, soft assurances of love being placed against my skin, and my hands find her hips again. Just to hold, just to keep her close.

My coffee has grown cold, but my love never will.

Dinah’s husband helps her with a little cream filling in her backdoor during a baking endeavor.

Sex in the kitchen was unsanitary, he fully believed that. Something about the messiness of cum and fluids mixed in where they ate…just sent shivers up his spine.

That was a preview of Eating Together: Five Sexy Stories of Couples Having a Delicious Time in Their Kitchen. To read the rest purchase the book.

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