Tonight I went to my boyfriend�s house. Here is how it happened: This morning, I worked out at the gym. It was a crystal, bird-song morning, orange juice sunshine melody breeze type of briskly ride downtown and go-to-the-gym morning. I got my ass kicked by my karate partner. I sweated. It felt good. I sat in the whirlpool and turned red like a hot lobster just enjoying the bubbles. It gave me a plumpness, a thrum like only hot jets of water kneading your muscles can do. Then I went to work. The customers didn�t seem to bother me too much, which was odd but enjoyable. I joked with my co-workers and when I went to the bathroom to splash water on my face I noticed the dark circles under my eyes had filled in pink, and weren�t so noticeable for a change. Work went by briskly; I cut my shift short because I had only one thing on my mind. In my body I felt a pleasant soreness beginning, especially in the butterfly muscles of my inner thighs. I went home. I turned on the TV. It was a harmonious background noise to my slanting-evening-sun-ray dinner preparation. I had noodles with browned butter and some seasonings and cheese on a blue plate with cold, cold chocolate milk besides. On TV a buxom warrior chick fucked up a bunch of pirates and then jumped 50 feet out of the trees onto a cursed ghost ship to save her best friend and eventually break the curse, though I missed that part because I was ready to go. I got on my bike and pedaled toward the lake. The wind was catching up to the sun now; both were blowing ragged and perfect into my face and buffetting my lithe body with a loving tumble. I pedaled over the boards of the lakefront, tires ca-thudding nicely. I turned up a side street with green lawns and old stone houses looking out over the street like jolly librarians wearing tidy windows for glasses. At the sixth one down, I stopped, locked up the bike to a no-parking sign, and hopped up the porch steps, my leather boots drumming. My heart was thumping along at a pretty good clip. My boyfriend wanted to talk but I muffled his words with my tongue. I had just one thing on my mind. I held him securely, my arm around the back of his head, his silken hair gracing the inside of my wrist. Our mouths melted together, and I felt his chest, warm, rising and falling and pushing against me firmly. I led him over to his favorite chair. It is a barber�s chair, weighing about a ton and covered with ancient leather. It is bolted to the floor and can spin and raise and lower. Backing him up till the backs of his knees pressed against it, I pulled his knit shirt off over his head, revealing his hard smooth perfect chest which I wanted to drink in. I drank it in. I went over all of it with my dry excited hands, brushed my fingers over his ribs, his abs, sucked his tight little nipples briefly. I had just one thing in mind. Holding him around his sculpted waist, I slid the end of his belt out of the loop with my teeth, and tugged hard like a dog and unbuckled it. I eased his jeans down over his smooth, delicious thighs, and drank in the sight of this too, and the sun-warm smell of him. I pushed him gently back into the chair, feather-touched his cock once, smiled, and walked around to the back and pumped the chair up once, twice, thrice. Now he was at just the right height. I sidled back around to the front and knelt between his knees. His penis was plump, pretty, pushing toward me with childlike eagerness. God it was beautiful. I caressed his balls with my fingers, and took the juicy head into my mouth and just held it there, loving it, breathing softly through my nose, closed my eyes and nearly wept. Now this was what I had had in mind. My mouth began to produce excess saliva, and it dripped down along his beautiful pulsing cock. I felt his pulse with my lips. I began to sway, quietly, wetting the length of him, slowly, slowly carressing with my tongue and lips, in, out, in, out, he moaned, I purred in the back of my throat, I sucked. And sucked. And sucked. It felt so good just to suck.