Suitcase Full of Porn

Suitcase full of porn, he ascended the staircase with indolence jumping jacks in his heart, and pockets.  The steps were white, and smooth, yet with a newness not irregular, except for the second to top step, which wasn't completely flat, and rose and fell underneath the length of his foot (usually his right, but he would often plan it in his head and either let the right have its day, or occasionally force the left one to have a go, but that took concentration from at least ten steps beneath, and when the left did fall onto the wavy, roman-like stone step near the top, it never felt natural), and he already heard her stirring from behind the closed door.  The echos of the breeze outside her open window was making its way underneath the door, and into the bottoms of his pant legs...the suitcase was muttering something about the way skin tasted when you went at it like is your God given right.  God given.

He knocked, low and with only two raps.  She yelled, but the distance and thickness of the door made it seem like a voice of a medium level at most.  "You know I never lock the door".  He did know, and the fact that he never put his suitcase down at the door somewhat proved this fact.  He turned the handle, notable not a knob, downwards and heard the click, not easy but controlled force made it work best.  Of this he was also fully aware.  He glimpsed her as the vista changed to the inside of the room, and the bright light pouring from the open window blinded his sight in its majority.  "It's too cold to have the window open".

The suitcase, full up with tarts and cunts, cock and bull, quietly touched the ground, as he felt for his chest, and his heart, beating with said indolence and growing force.  He couldn't see yet past the sunshine and wind oncoming, but felt warmth in the wind as she passed by close in front of him.  "It's not too cold to have the window open.  The air is dead in here without it".  He heard this contradictory statement, and just after the word "dead" came the corresponding and also contradictory thick click of the window being shut, and the curtain drawn nearly all the way to the middle plane.  "I see you've brought your files with you again", she added, as he finally caught her in his sight, now with a shadow overcompensating in his retinas, onto her skin and lips as they spoke.

"You never had a problem with it before", he said as his vision cleared and he saw her, again just in her underwear, with one piece of a dress on, and opened, always in a state of half undress.  He walked up to her, and she smiled at this small, but worthy attempt at contradiction, and her lips grew outward, into the open air around them, and she gently tossed off the one piece of actual clothing she had on, and pulled him to her.  There was no time for any more formalities.

Like the beats of a well structured drama, her eyes ate him up, and her hands with the grace and arc of a well turned heel in dance, reached downwards and out onto his cock, growing in all directions as did her tongue in his mouth, biting and pulling at his bottom lip in soft staccato.  His hands then decided it was enough for him to set aside any passivity, and that he would drive forth at her with all the filth and depravity that he held inside that suitcase, watching eagerly from the floor near the window.  He forced her down onto the bed, and her legs wrapping round him, the great divide stretching out into the pit of his belly, as she sucked his cock like a pro, and he begged her off of him at the last quickening second, since he wanted to come with her writhing underneath him, which is the way she always preferred as well - fighting the good fight, her cunt acquiesing to the rigor of his overtaking her, only because she herself had allowed it.  But once it did, there was no going back.  She was the irregular stone step and he would tread onto and into her empire, conquering and building up new nations, as he tasted her sweet in his mouth, and her moans went wildly alongside the smell of her skin, thick and fragrant with her indolence, which she stole from her with her lips.

Once actual fucking began, it seemed like the room closed in onto them, and they ate up the breeze, and he would rise and fall in breath and climax with each and every thrust, her pulling the walls of her cunt close inwards onto him, only to release him back like a wave killing you and tossing you back, every minute and every time it wanted to show you what life was really all about.  The fact that you were not in charge was the key.  This went on, as he buried his face driven with sweat into the burrow of her neck and she scratched at his back and bit at him with the feebleness of a slow thinking child.

He smelled fresh air mingling into the murk they had created, on her cheeks and on the top of her breasts, and glanced over for a moment, seeing that the window was not all the way closed, but indeed open a crack.  She noticed and smiled wryly, her eyes half closed from the activity and she bit her lip and forced him to go deeper into her.   Her mumbled words like someone on the brink of drunkeness, "see, the wind is more alive, yeah?..." became simply yeahs to moans without any question mark, as he kissed her with his tongue and full intention.  His beasts and deepest sensations rose to the top of him now, and they fucked their way clear through that crack to the outside breeze, coming loudly until and for hours after the wind finally died down out of exhaustion.

M. Lucia