Saturday, April 11, 2009

Fucking heaven

Photo: Pepper by Edward Weston


Some Questions to Ask During your Reading

Have you a place where, when the world
ends, you want to be? Have you
a person who will be there when
you put out a hand? When the sky
weeps, whose fall will you weep?
Look steadily into the fire – what face
or sign do you see? If a fault is yours,
what forgiveness? Who will understand?

--William Stafford, original dedication to Holding Onto the Grass


Fucking Heaven

I am flat on my back on the kitchen floor. I am laughing my ass off. The linoleum is cool against the curve of my spine, warm against the thick palms of my butt. I am spinning there in the heat of the moment, the smell of garlic and butter and olive oil thickening the air. My pussy is dripping and glistening with the bright sheen of an oil slick. Fingers dipped into the sauté pan couldn’t help but streak a little sustenance across the milky way. A warm, ripening liquid for the goddesses of passion, lust, and fine dining: Clitoris, Labia, and Mons . The Holy Trinity.

Bub is naked except for a frilly red organza apron. My chef in drag. I have written “Keep Bub Weird” on his bare ass in blue magic marker. When I spread my legs wide he slaps a thick, cold halibut filet between my thighs. I press my hips against it, squeeze my legs, embracing that gift from the sea with all my might. The goddesses whimper in ecstasy. Fresh fish on Friday. Oh when the saints come marching home. The Pope would approve. I am sure of it. The Friday before Easter even. No rubbers for the Africans, but fish on Friday with hot cream sauce will certainly earn me a place in heaven.

When I stand up, still giggling, Bub spoons a thick white sauce of garlic, butter, beef broth, cream, asparagus and chive into my greedy mouth. I swallow slowly, shudder with delight, and then go down on his cock like a hungry baby.

Oh how I love to wrap my lips around him. Oh how I love to taste the velvet hammer of his manliness all stretched out before me. Mine to tease and pleasure. His cock strains against it’s own skin, curves onto my tongue, pulses between my lips. Atoms splitting, flesh bursting with juice and heat. It quivers and jumps at my touch. Kissing his cock is like kissing the center of the earth, bowing down before the sun, and whispering to the God of Light, “I am your servant.”

We fuck on the couch while the halibut sizzles, fat bursting around the edges of the thick white meat. I can hear the sizzle and smell the delicate seasonings coming to life. Bub holds me at the hips while I straddle him and grind away on his cock, my thick, hot juices wetting his balls, coating him with a permanent layer of lust. Once applied, not even a sandblaster can remove it. This is powerful medicine.

The halibut comes out perfectly – tender, moist and sweet. We dine like natives on the floor, toes touching, moaning while forking and groaning while spooning. Spooning and forking, forking and spooning. Moaning and groaning and giggling. The joy of cooking.

We fuck again after dinner in bed, the Holy Trinity glowing in candlelight. Bodies and minds expand and retract against the night. Bub is smiling as I slide atop him, riding him slowly, his cock becoming the universe as it expands into my infinite space. He fills me up. Fills me up to overflowing. Sparks the fire that ignites my soul. Gazing down on him, I look steadily into the fire of his eyes, the horizon of his lips. What face I see? What sign? Oh, yes, oh fuck me baby. Fuck me hard! I am yours. I put out a hand and he takes it, tenderly, even as our bones twist and rage below. The ache is gone. Rising higher on him, I pump harder, twisting my hips slowly, then faster, then slowly again, enjoying the sensation of the head of his cock pushing in and out of my entrance to the underworld. He is so hard. I pump faster. Harder. Twisting. His cock has my g-spot by the throat. His cock is spooning sauce into my mouth, slapping fish between my legs, pulling at my hair, spanking my ass, kissing me from the inside out. I look down at him, directly and deeply into his eyes while I come hard, screaming into him, the Trinity drenching him with holy water and blessed oil. Bub catches me when I convulse wildly and fall as limp as a killed thing into his arms. He wraps himself around me, holds me tight, rocks me gently, sings me to sleep.
Yes, yes, when the world ends I know just where I want to be. Right here. Right now. Fucking heaven.

6 comments:

Craig Sorensen said...

Holy shit, girl!

You're not right in the head, and I mean that in the most respectful, reverent way!

I love perfectly prepared halibut, and I love...well... perfectly prepared other things too.

And I really love this story.

Damn. I'm going to go back and read it again!

Kirsten Monroe said...

Hi Craig, that's such a wonderful compliment -- "you're not right in the head." Woo! Thank you!

Happy Easter :)

Erobintica said...

Wow - and it all starts with a stunningly erotic pepper - and ends with

Yes, yes, when the world ends I know just where I want to be. Right here. Right now. Fucking heaven.

hehehe

I believe!

Thanks for that Kirsten - give that girl a peep!

Jeremy Edwards said...

I read this piece twice, too! Reading your intoxicating erotic literary adventures, KM—now that's living!

coating him with a permanent layer of lust

Yum! Better than Scotchguard.

Kirsten Monroe said...

Hey Robin, he is risen, ya know it!

Yo Jeremy! Thanks so much. Yes! Much better than Scotchguard -- longer lasting and less polluting and with way sexier packaging!

BadAssKona said...

Halibut, baked, with garlic and butter and chives, then coated with a delectible cream sauce....mmmmm......