Jam

This is an old tale I wrote several years ago.

As my thing is Erotica I thought I’d drop it here for you to enjoy.

Jam - An obsession.

Jam. Sticky, wet, delicious.

Spread on toast in the morning, when you pour the tea and smile as you hand me a cup across the table. Your black curls falling across your face momentarily. Sensually.

"Boring" you murmur as you flick carelessly through the morning papers. Oh I can think of ways to keep you entertained.

Jam. You grumble that I got it on the table again and that now you have it on your fingers. Sticky and sweet. I smile and shrug and pretend to sip my tea. The tip of your tongue touches your long smooth digits curiously, then you push your first two fingers between those beautiful lips and into that devastatingly fuckable mouth.

I may have sighed then over my cup. Your eyes meet mine, your head tips just a fraction as you deduce its meaning. I see the answer in your eyes, they sparkle with mischief. Dammit - You read me too well.

Your mouth curls a little at the edges as you slide your fingers, now wet, from between your lips. Licking them slowly, but not breaking eye contact with me. I try to hide but I know I tremble. You notice of course, you always notice. Your expression shifts and there’s the smirk, I’m sure you hear my heart as it beats too loud against my chest.

Jam. You reach across to the jar sat before me, dip in and take a finger full. Your eyes, so cold and deep and beautiful, soften as you lift it up for me to view. Then you greedily lick the treat away, all tongue and lips and delicious sticky heat.

You do it oh so damned slowly and deliberately. Oh yes, you know I want you. I would be climbing over the table right now if I thought there was ever a chance that you would reciprocate. My insides flutter and tighten. My brain seems to stop. You broke me again.

Jam. Another finger full. It hovers over the table. My breath catches, your eyes now full of what you are doing to me.. and then I see. Your eyes darken, your pupils suck the colour from them and my breath catches.

You lean forward, offer up the jam, the sweetest gift. The first taste is heaven. Strawberries, sugar, salt... And you, it tastes of you... of Iron and sodium, caesium and lithium and the shower gel I bought last week. But most of all it tastes of you... you... and you are my world. You and the jam and the darkness in your eyes.

Jam. A moan escapes your throat and pushes between your lips. I am certain it surprised you as much as it did me. You’re eyes widen imperceptibly, but I see.. I’ll always see.

You grip my wrist suddenly - I jump. I can feel your fingers sticking to my skin, sugary sweet, as you count the beats in your head. There is a pause, time stops as my fingers touch your face and you push subtly into the caress.

Jam. It’s in my hair now as you’re fingers weave through, you lean into me and we breathe as one. You’re tongue demands entry and then you’re in my mouth, pushy and wanting and wild.

Breakfast is over the teas getting cold and there is jam all over the table.

“Bedroom” you murmur, my heart skips a beat as I take your hand and smile.