Les Fleurs

A Sexual Fantasy

— By Diora Muse

I fantasize of a bold night where my clothes decorate the floor of a strangers house. He is blindfolded per my request and butterflies shake in his stomach, I am in control. He bends to fit the molds that I ease him into. The urge to follow my directions are like an alcoholic's urge to drink. I hold his cock like a microphone to my lips, brushing and kissing. The tip of my tongue meets skin, I form a seal and suck gently. I drink him, in my mouth drips a clear bead. I take from him, his pride, his ecstasy, and all his pain. He reciprocates with anticipation. It's wonderful and frightening. To him my pussy is sacred. His desire was built before we met. He takes a taste and gorges himself. My pussy is nectar but warmer, softer and vulnerable. We fuck underneath the stars, fuck ourselves distorted, bare chest to bare breasts, palms reading palms. His bedroom is a place unique to us.

I'm gone before the temptation to peel off his blindfold overcomes him.