Dirty Bits

Fried Carrot Strips

He drank all the words and split breaths from her lips. The blood rush painted them in dark shades of pink. His mouth crashed onto her exposed neck and he felt the heartbeat beneath her skin. Arctic Monkeys softly faded into the background as she let out a soft moan, tightening her grip. His eyes reminded of the seas from another world, the color you only read about in books.

Gently, he brushed his left thumb over her lower lip, sliding it into her mouth. She lightly sucked on it, arching her back against the pillows. Her mouth filled with saliva as she slid her tongue against the finger, dripping all over his palm. She enjoyed tasting every inch of him, the saltiness of his skin, yet she could not help but to think of sucking on something larger. He traced the tips of his fingers across her knee, slowly and softly like a feather, across her warm and inviting thighs stained with scarlet bruises.

"Wait," she grabbed the boy's wrist.

"What?"

"I want to show you something." Long hair fell across her shoulders like spilled ink on paper. As she placed her feet on the cold floor her figure made shadow angels through the light of a street lamp creeping in. She walked towards the moonlit wall and pressed her back towards it. Shivers traveled in between the spaces of her spinal cord as she felt the chilly surface through the thin blouse.

The girl shifted her hips left and right, undressing her skirt at a slow pace. She felt the rough fabric rasping against her thighs. As the velvet skirt landed at her feet it revealed a secret every school girl in a uniform loves to keep from time to time; black knee socks strapped with the lace belt across her belly. The black lingerie matched perfectly. Slowly and patiently she began unbuttoning her white blouse, one button at a time. He watched as she worked her way down, over her breasts slowly exposing her black bra and the soft white skin of her belly.

She looked like one of those girls that you noticed in a crowd full of people, her eyes searching for something or someone at the end of her comfort zone. Her life was a performance and she wore characters like people wear masks.

She took a step towards the boy with blue eyes.

"No. Don't move," he said, putting on a pair of glasses. He reminded of one of those school teachers every girl wants to have. A professor that could make even algebra sound interesting.

He caught her by surprise, but she leaned, pressing the soft skin of her upper back against the cold, hard wall.

"I want you to take off your panties," his almost raspy voice echoed through the poorly lit room. She began unclipping the black belts that held her knee socks up. "Leave those," he demanded. "just the panties."

The lace felt gentle on her naked skin as the black lingerie fell towards her feet.

It was terrifying and exciting at the same time. And as the guitar strings sang through her bones and sweat slicked her skin, a dangerously familiar tingling sensation filled her.

"Now the bra," arrogance bled into his voice as he spoke.

She took off the bra, one bra strap at a time, moonlight crashing against the softness of her breasts.

"Slide your hands across your stomach," he ordered. "Slowly,"

She mimicked his touch, gentle and soft, but she craved the physical contact too much and began digging her fingers into the bare skin of her belly. When she closed her eyes the mind kept playing images and scenarios that had happened or that she wished would happen. His tongue teasing the softest parts of her body. His fingers sliding over them, exploring...