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Facial Fridays
Scent Of A Goddess
The definition of a Pillow Princess is when your wife lays her beautiful head on the pillow and her husband does all the work required to bring her to ecstasy.
Tonight is my favorite day of the week. After a hard day at work dealing with customers. Tessa has showered and is now undressed to play a role she was born for: My Pillow Princess.
Her gorgeous body lying spread eagle on our bed waiting for my wet mouth. My Lover’s favorite Prince tape has stopped. I feel my heart beating through my chest. The only sounds are my breaths. I hear a faint whirring sound then classical piano, Chopin.
That’s my cue to enter. I follow the music entering the room, the only light coming from the adjoining bathroom. Smells of vanilla fill the air. Tessa has lit her favorite scented candle.
She lies on top of the covers using several pillows propping her gorgeous dome. As I approach, my eyes come into focus and I notice her playing with the only article on her beautiful naked body.
A necklace. I check my neck, mine gone, because she’s wearing it. My African medallion, which I never take off.
She twirls it, smiling. Tessa places her fist in the air, reminiscent of Tommy Smith’s protest at the ’68 Olympics against racial injustice.
“Power to the People.”
“My necklace. How?”
“You want it, come take it.”
I don’t take the bait but keep circling the bed like a starving lion ready to feed on a wounded gazelle. My tongue is sweating.
I don’t take my eyes off the delicious prey but take a moment to turn off the bathroom light. The only light now streams from the cracks in the Venetian blinds. I take in her voluptuous nakedness.
Tessa is now positioned for the feast. The Pillow Princess is laying spread eagle on the mattress. I keep circling, she reaches; our hands touch momentarily. Her feeble attempt at mercy. I release from her grip. Now standing at the feet of a Princess.
“I’m so thirsty for you,” I said.
Chopin’s sonata has ended.
“Then drink me, baby.”
