Urban Gypsy

The exceptionally able Urban Gypsy describes a truely exceptional experience:

“What do you think you’re doing, Tess?” he queries in a tone that leaves no doubt he is not pleased.

“The lube, Dar,” I say attempting to stop my voice from cracking.

“No lube, bitch,” he says his hand slapping mine away from the drawer, “perhaps next time you’ll reconsider saying no to me, eh.”

“Mm,” he continues, “no lube but perhaps this instead.”

His large hand dwarfs the tiny brown octagonal jar that he holds in front of my face. It registers immediately, Tiger Balm. My moan won’t be suppressed, it emerges low and plaintive before I beg him not to, not now, oh please, Dar not now. A flash of white as his mouth forms a cruel smile is the only answer I receive.

I close my eyes so tightly that I feel fine lines wrinkling the corners and cover my face with my hands so he doesn’t see the tears that begin to well up as I hear him unscrewing the lid. He has this uncanny ability to make me cry and I despise myself for this weakness. Knowing he feeds off my tears makes it that much worse. The pungent scent of cinnamon fills the room, cloying at my nostrils, as he spreads a thick layer over my clit. Then just as the initial unbearably icy wave engulfs my clit, with digits still stained with the deliciously evil ointment, he fingers my ass slowly and purposely. The sensation in my clit changes from frigid to unbearably hot, while my insides feel suddenly frigid. It takes all my concentration to remain still. I can’t for long; my hips begin to buck as my pussy floods with wetness in a forlorn effort to put out the fire that engulfs me.

Urban Gypsy

Originally posted 2006-08-18 15:57:16.