Late Afternoon Delight

If you feel like it, read  Afternoon Delight, that way you will know how she got here….

This was when she had said, “Baise-moi Diirrty, baise-moi!”  Her face was a contorted mess, mascara and tears clouding her vision. He continued to stare at her, she was his beautiful bird in his golden cage. He was her everything. Only he possessed the key to open the cage. A torrential storm of tears erupted at the very core of her, drowning her in her own sorrow. He seemed to revel in her humiliation, to jubilate in her yearning. The more that she silently touched herself, the more she wanted him plunging deep inside her like a high diver into a turquoise sea…and the more he seemed to take pleasure in his own hand games. She began to feel certain that her heart was about to break into thousands of pieces. She imagined her heart like a colorful pheasant in hunting season, rising up from the meadow to meet gunshots, agony, blood and feathers exploding into the smokey dampness. She felt certain that she would faint if he didn’t touch her, if he refused to put an end to this cruel foreplay he had initiated just for her. Yet she met his gaze, just as he had asked her to do. She loved his eyelashes and the sly gleam in his mischievous eyes. She loved the pleasure that only he seemed to unlock in her. He made her beg like a hungry child and in spite of her own humiliation at doing so her arousal seemed to grow inside of her, warm and palpitating.

His hand freed his throbbing erection, he lowered his eyes and spoke to her in a soft voice, “Come to me now. You are a very good girl.” She felt all the tears of a lifetime well up in her chest. She threw herself into his arms, her mouth searching avidly for his skin. He smelled so good! She could get high on his smell alone, his kiss was long and hard and she felt herself coming in a convulsive motion. His strong hand pinched her between her legs making her gasp for air like a fish on the deck of a ship. He stroked her methodically and she swooned, wanting him inside of her, wanting him to be a part of her in the most intimate places in her body. She wanted him in her mouth, in her snatch, in her ass. She wanted him to find a way to be the deepest into her, to touch her soul and be one with her.

He turned her over…he made her dance like a doll and suddenly she found herself on her knees, her face shoved roughly against a beautiful Persian rug. She admired the lovely colors of the tapestry for a brief moment as he entered her, so slowly that it broke her already broken heart yet another time. The heat and the warmth of him slowly penetrating her made her catch her breath. She understood in that moment all that is good and all that is beautiful and worthwhile in this life.

…and I guess that was when she said once again,“Baise-moi Diirrty, baise-moi!”


  1. jayne

    Dawn, this whole story pulled me apart like a peeled orange when pieces are ripped apart and pulp is exposed – imperfect and juicy. That’s how she felt to me. I like when I have no control over feeling a character. Jayne

    • pivoine68

      Hi! I wasn’t so sure if a pheasant is a pretty bird or not but I think they are. I know for sure that they wander out aimlessly onto country roads and get hit by cars. They are stupid birds. (that’s the thing about eating organic eggs…do we really care about a chicken’s feelings? They are seriously stupid animals. The chances are really slim that you might one day become attached to a chicken. Slim!)

      Anyway, I’m happy you liked the written expression of my overactive libido gone MAD! 😉


    • pivoine68

      It’s not really an evil French lady…it’s only me and my vivid American imagination.

      “Baiser,” means either to kiss or to fuck. (I like fucking myself….:)

      Bisous, (another form of baiser which means kisses!)
      ….sunrise or psycho living abroad writing about fucking.

  2. Theo Black

    This is beautiful. So sensuous and erotic; you put me right in the girl’s head. You’re giving humiliation a good name.

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