This is chapter one of the novellette, Dancing In the Dark. For more information about the full story, please check out the E-book page.
Katie
Two weeks ago, lying in the early morning sunshine with the taste of Andrew in my mouth, this barbeque seemed like a good idea. Rip off the Band-Aid and introduce all our friends at once. It’s not like we’ve been keeping each other secret, it’s just we were so wrapped up in ourselves. Movies or brunch with friends didn’t seem as exciting as staying tangled in the sheets all weekend. Every weekend. Then most nights. Now I’ve practically moved in with him, and my friends are getting unbearably curious about this man who managed to steal me away from Girl’s Night Out for the past three months. The barbeque will ease their questions and work as an olive branch for blowing them off so much.
But bent over the toilet, scrubbing, it seems like a lot of work. Every day this week I’ve come straight from work to Andrew’s house to clean. No manicure Wednesday. One more missed Girl’s Night. Just dusting and sweeping and planning the damned menu. I don’t even cook, but there’s this nervousness growing in me that whispers everything needs to be perfect.
Andrew has told me to relax one too many times. I snapped at him the last time he said it. For him, it’s just a party, no big deal. That’s all it should be for me, too. But it feels almost like a test. I’m not sure what I hope to get if I pass.
It doesn’t help that Andrew is too busy for prepping. He does what he can, but he works in construction and comes home late and tired. I’d rather he save his energy for bed than run around cleaning. Besides, I’m pickier than he is. I don’t think he’s dusted in years. Or ever. He’s more relaxed about these things.
He tries to kiss me when he gets home, but I shoo him to the bathroom and wonder if this is what our life will be like if we stay together — me doing the housework, exhausted all the time. I put the bucket of cleaning supplies under the kitchen, twisting to relieve the tension in my back.
I make myself a mug of tea, ease into a chair, and try to relax. Its sweet licorice flavor seeps into me, and my muscles let go. By the time the water in the bathroom stops running, all the effort feels like maybe it’s worth it. I abandon my tea and wander down the hall to meet him. I push the door open and a puff of steam escapes the small room. He’s standing on the small blue rug, wrapped in a towel, with water dripping down the fur of his chest.
I love him like that. Not that I’ve said it yet. Not even a hint or sly slide-in. But I do. And it’s definitely worth it.
The water glistens on his black hair, running beneath it on his pale skin. I trace my fingernails from his neck to his belly, seeking water droplets. My mouth follows, drinking him in.
Andrew
I’m late. Again. I don’t mean to be. This barbecue is important to Katie, but I can’t just knock off early. We have a deadline, and John depends on me. Heavy enough that I’ll be getting a raise if I keep up the long hours and good work. And the raise… well, I know it’s early to think about marriage, but I can’t help myself. A ring would look so good on Katie’s finger.
I’m getting ahead of myself. She’s not even officially living with me. It feels like we’ve been together forever, in a good way. We just sort of melted into each other from the moment we met. She was all softness and acceptance and excitement. It’s easy to get ahead of myself with her.
Katie doesn’t bitch at me, just rolls her eyes at my boots and points me to the shower. She’s amazing that way. She’s amazing in every way. Even glistening with sweat from cleaning, she kept her long brown hair pinned neatly back. Her tank top hangs low, showing her modest cleavage, and her jean shorts are cut high, giving a peek at her ass when she bends. I want to take her in my arms and fuck her right there, but she’d squirm away from my filth, so I head dutifully to the bathroom.
I take a longer shower than I need. The hot water hits at the knots in my neck and shoulders. I stretch out my back, twist and give a moan of pleasure. Nothing better than a shower at the end of the day. Well, a few things are better.
Thinking of Katie’s low-cut top, I take my semi-hard cock in my hand and loosely tug at it. What did I do to deserve her? I should be thinking about the wonderful things she does for me. The way she laughs. Her slightly lopsided smile. But when I think of her full lips, all I can imagine is the way they wrap around my cock. I’m hard. Of course. Just thinking about the wetness of her mouth gets me hard. I squirt some soap onto my hand and stroke it up and down my cock, turning it into a lather that is silky smooth and warm and still not as good as her mouth around me. The way her tongue teases my head. I can feel it all the way to the pit of my stomach. I brace my legs wide, stroking harder.
I’m burning beneath the water. My muscles tense. I slow and savor that edge. Imagine her backing off. Teasing me. God, that smile. I turn off the water, dripping, waiting for my erection to soften. I barely have time to open the curtain and wrap a towel around my hips before the bathroom door opens. She’s even more gorgeous in person.
Katie
Andrew’s thick fur trails off as I reach lower. He helps me with the towel, throwing it off in his eagerness, unable to wait for my slow unwrapping of him. His penis is hard, bouncing up when the towel releases it, knocking my chin like an old friend. The head is thick, like a ripening plum, but I skip it and lick around the skinnier base. No hair here — he keeps well-trimmed, occasionally fully shaved.
He moans when I nibble like a hungry fish at his balls. I don’t give him any more than that, though. I have other things in mind. Down on my knees, I look up into his eyes. They are soft and light brown. Full of tenderness and desire. He wants to pull my head down on his penis. His hands muss in my hair, taking out the clips and tossing them on the sink. As much as he wants to yank my mouth over him — as much as I want him to — he resists. He’s so careful with me. Even though I’m burning for him, he never wants to press me. He doesn’t know how rough my old boyfriends were — only that I never had sex with them. Maybe that makes him think they never lost themselves to desire.
I lick at the lollipop pink head of his penis. The tip of my tongue finds the crevices beneath its rim. His moan is low and deep, vibrating his belly, almost as if he’s in pain, and I know I’ve got him right where I want him.
I back off, blow on my spit, turning it dry and cold. He’s staring down at me, hand cupped around the back of my head. I look up, blink twice, then whisper, “I love you.”
It couldn’t have come out better if I’d practiced. His mouth opens, but before he can say it back, I take the entirety of his cock in my mouth. It hits the back of my throat. I swallow it deeper. He’s shaking, pressing on my head as much for support as to pull me further onto him. One. Two. Three. His cum is quick, hot, and thick.
I fall back on my heels, a satisfied grin on my mouth as I swallow.
Andrew
She said she loves me. That’s all I can think as she continues sucking me. She loves me.
I would have said it back, but she’s at my cock like she wants to suck out my soul. I’d gladly give it to her. For the first time, I press her head further down on me. Harder. I need her to swallow all of me. She gives a gag, and I try to pull out, but her hands are at my thighs, holding me in her as her throat pulses and swallows and finds a magical way to accept me.
Finally, she relaxes, and I’m able to push in and out of her hot throat. Her wide eyes stare up at my face. A tear builds and slips down her cheek, and I couldn’t hold off longer if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. I want to give her all of me.
When she finishes, she sits back and looks up at me. Her sleek hair, the tilt of her head, the way she licks her lips — she could be a cat. I want to pet her. More than that, I want to make her my own.
I reach for her hand and pull her to her feet. “I love you, too.”
She kisses me, her lips soft as melting sugar and her tongue playful and salty with my cum.
Katie
Two weeks ago, lying in the early morning sunshine with the taste of Andrew in my mouth, this barbeque seemed like a good idea. Rip off the Band-Aid and introduce all our friends at once. It’s not like we’ve been keeping each other secret, it’s just we were so wrapped up in ourselves. Movies or brunch with friends didn’t seem as exciting as staying tangled in the sheets all weekend. Every weekend. Then most nights. Now I’ve practically moved in with him, and my friends are getting unbearably curious about this man who managed to steal me away from Girl’s Night Out for the past three months. The barbeque will ease their questions and work as an olive branch for blowing them off so much.
But bent over the toilet, scrubbing, it seems like a lot of work. Every day this week I’ve come straight from work to Andrew’s house to clean. No manicure Wednesday. One more missed Girl’s Night. Just dusting and sweeping and planning the damned menu. I don’t even cook, but there’s this nervousness growing in me that whispers everything needs to be perfect.
Andrew has told me to relax one too many times. I snapped at him the last time he said it. For him, it’s just a party, no big deal. That’s all it should be for me, too. But it feels almost like a test. I’m not sure what I hope to get if I pass.
It doesn’t help that Andrew is too busy for prepping. He does what he can, but he works in construction and comes home late and tired. I’d rather he save his energy for bed than run around cleaning. Besides, I’m pickier than he is. I don’t think he’s dusted in years. Or ever. He’s more relaxed about these things.
He tries to kiss me when he gets home, but I shoo him to the bathroom and wonder if this is what our life will be like if we stay together — me doing the housework, exhausted all the time. I put the bucket of cleaning supplies under the kitchen, twisting to relieve the tension in my back.
I make myself a mug of tea, ease into a chair, and try to relax. Its sweet licorice flavor seeps into me, and my muscles let go. By the time the water in the bathroom stops running, all the effort feels like maybe it’s worth it. I abandon my tea and wander down the hall to meet him. I push the door open and a puff of steam escapes the small room. He’s standing on the small blue rug, wrapped in a towel, with water dripping down the fur of his chest.
I love him like that. Not that I’ve said it yet. Not even a hint or sly slide-in. But I do. And it’s definitely worth it.
The water glistens on his black hair, running beneath it on his pale skin. I trace my fingernails from his neck to his belly, seeking water droplets. My mouth follows, drinking him in.
Andrew
I’m late. Again. I don’t mean to be. This barbecue is important to Katie, but I can’t just knock off early. We have a deadline, and John depends on me. Heavy enough that I’ll be getting a raise if I keep up the long hours and good work. And the raise… well, I know it’s early to think about marriage, but I can’t help myself. A ring would look so good on Katie’s finger.
I’m getting ahead of myself. She’s not even officially living with me. It feels like we’ve been together forever, in a good way. We just sort of melted into each other from the moment we met. She was all softness and acceptance and excitement. It’s easy to get ahead of myself with her.
Katie doesn’t bitch at me, just rolls her eyes at my boots and points me to the shower. She’s amazing that way. She’s amazing in every way. Even glistening with sweat from cleaning, she kept her long brown hair pinned neatly back. Her tank top hangs low, showing her modest cleavage, and her jean shorts are cut high, giving a peek at her ass when she bends. I want to take her in my arms and fuck her right there, but she’d squirm away from my filth, so I head dutifully to the bathroom.
I take a longer shower than I need. The hot water hits at the knots in my neck and shoulders. I stretch out my back, twist and give a moan of pleasure. Nothing better than a shower at the end of the day. Well, a few things are better.
Thinking of Katie’s low-cut top, I take my semi-hard cock in my hand and loosely tug at it. What did I do to deserve her? I should be thinking about the wonderful things she does for me. The way she laughs. Her slightly lopsided smile. But when I think of her full lips, all I can imagine is the way they wrap around my cock. I’m hard. Of course. Just thinking about the wetness of her mouth gets me hard. I squirt some soap onto my hand and stroke it up and down my cock, turning it into a lather that is silky smooth and warm and still not as good as her mouth around me. The way her tongue teases my head. I can feel it all the way to the pit of my stomach. I brace my legs wide, stroking harder.
I’m burning beneath the water. My muscles tense. I slow and savor that edge. Imagine her backing off. Teasing me. God, that smile. I turn off the water, dripping, waiting for my erection to soften. I barely have time to open the curtain and wrap a towel around my hips before the bathroom door opens. She’s even more gorgeous in person.
Katie
Andrew’s thick fur trails off as I reach lower. He helps me with the towel, throwing it off in his eagerness, unable to wait for my slow unwrapping of him. His penis is hard, bouncing up when the towel releases it, knocking my chin like an old friend. The head is thick, like a ripening plum, but I skip it and lick around the skinnier base. No hair here — he keeps well-trimmed, occasionally fully shaved.
He moans when I nibble like a hungry fish at his balls. I don’t give him any more than that, though. I have other things in mind. Down on my knees, I look up into his eyes. They are soft and light brown. Full of tenderness and desire. He wants to pull my head down on his penis. His hands muss in my hair, taking out the clips and tossing them on the sink. As much as he wants to yank my mouth over him — as much as I want him to — he resists. He’s so careful with me. Even though I’m burning for him, he never wants to press me. He doesn’t know how rough my old boyfriends were — only that I never had sex with them. Maybe that makes him think they never lost themselves to desire.
I lick at the lollipop pink head of his penis. The tip of my tongue finds the crevices beneath its rim. His moan is low and deep, vibrating his belly, almost as if he’s in pain, and I know I’ve got him right where I want him.
I back off, blow on my spit, turning it dry and cold. He’s staring down at me, hand cupped around the back of my head. I look up, blink twice, then whisper, “I love you.”
It couldn’t have come out better if I’d practiced. His mouth opens, but before he can say it back, I take the entirety of his cock in my mouth. It hits the back of my throat. I swallow it deeper. He’s shaking, pressing on my head as much for support as to pull me further onto him. One. Two. Three. His cum is quick, hot, and thick.
I fall back on my heels, a satisfied grin on my mouth as I swallow.
Andrew
She said she loves me. That’s all I can think as she continues sucking me. She loves me.
I would have said it back, but she’s at my cock like she wants to suck out my soul. I’d gladly give it to her. For the first time, I press her head further down on me. Harder. I need her to swallow all of me. She gives a gag, and I try to pull out, but her hands are at my thighs, holding me in her as her throat pulses and swallows and finds a magical way to accept me.
Finally, she relaxes, and I’m able to push in and out of her hot throat. Her wide eyes stare up at my face. A tear builds and slips down her cheek, and I couldn’t hold off longer if I wanted to. But I don’t want to. I want to give her all of me.
When she finishes, she sits back and looks up at me. Her sleek hair, the tilt of her head, the way she licks her lips — she could be a cat. I want to pet her. More than that, I want to make her my own.
I reach for her hand and pull her to her feet. “I love you, too.”
She kisses me, her lips soft as melting sugar and her tongue playful and salty with my cum.