Red is my favourite colour
The year of the dog is upon us, and its my convenient excuse for feeling like a bitch in heat.
With so much of the colour red all around the house at this point in time, (my 2 flat-mates take CNY very seriously) it's evoked my imaginary, inner Asian-sex-goddess. The one who teases you from behind the billowy drapes of sheer fabric on her four-poster rosewood bed in nothing but a scarlet slip held together by ribbons.
And so to celebrate her, since my wardrobe consists largely of black and I'd sooner choke on a pineapple tart than be seen in public during cny in any form of red clothing, (other than maybe a garter belt) I'd painted my nails the colour of blood. Any brighter and it would border on tarty pornstar.
This of course, is after my last tryst with Chris. I'd applied a similar shade to my lips, (trusty Chanel, which smudges like crazy) to leave a distinct trail of where they'd been on him. By the time we were done, I'd drawn a virtual roadmap of his body's erogenous zones.
Perhaps its the underlying homo-erotica factor coming into play, but I find it rather arousing to see a man with obvious lipstick smears over his mouth from kissing.
Now picture said man covered in similar, hickey-like lovestains and you've got a real piece of artistic expression.
Basking in afterglow, I'd sat back to admire my handywork: Chris, lying on his back looking at me slightly dazed, his naked body still glistening with sweat and an explosion of cum on his belly, with delicious red lipstick stains everywhere from his face and the pulse point behind his ears, down to his throat where the collarbones meet, to his chest and nipples, the sides of his ribcage just under the armpit, in and out of his navel and down to his crotch where the thighs meet the groin.
I should have taken a picture, but I doubt he'd have let me anyway.
In the meantime, I've nothing but my short scarlet talons (and toenails) to remind me of the experience. I look at my nails and instead of just a manicure, my mind sees the same hand with its brightly painted tips, wrapped around a certain erected body part, while its owner's tiny, involuntary shudders coincided with the flickers of my tongue.
The nails are starting to chip slightly, but I think I'll keep the colour on till the end of the festivities..
With so much of the colour red all around the house at this point in time, (my 2 flat-mates take CNY very seriously) it's evoked my imaginary, inner Asian-sex-goddess. The one who teases you from behind the billowy drapes of sheer fabric on her four-poster rosewood bed in nothing but a scarlet slip held together by ribbons.
And so to celebrate her, since my wardrobe consists largely of black and I'd sooner choke on a pineapple tart than be seen in public during cny in any form of red clothing, (other than maybe a garter belt) I'd painted my nails the colour of blood. Any brighter and it would border on tarty pornstar.
This of course, is after my last tryst with Chris. I'd applied a similar shade to my lips, (trusty Chanel, which smudges like crazy) to leave a distinct trail of where they'd been on him. By the time we were done, I'd drawn a virtual roadmap of his body's erogenous zones.
Perhaps its the underlying homo-erotica factor coming into play, but I find it rather arousing to see a man with obvious lipstick smears over his mouth from kissing.
Now picture said man covered in similar, hickey-like lovestains and you've got a real piece of artistic expression.
Basking in afterglow, I'd sat back to admire my handywork: Chris, lying on his back looking at me slightly dazed, his naked body still glistening with sweat and an explosion of cum on his belly, with delicious red lipstick stains everywhere from his face and the pulse point behind his ears, down to his throat where the collarbones meet, to his chest and nipples, the sides of his ribcage just under the armpit, in and out of his navel and down to his crotch where the thighs meet the groin.
I should have taken a picture, but I doubt he'd have let me anyway.
In the meantime, I've nothing but my short scarlet talons (and toenails) to remind me of the experience. I look at my nails and instead of just a manicure, my mind sees the same hand with its brightly painted tips, wrapped around a certain erected body part, while its owner's tiny, involuntary shudders coincided with the flickers of my tongue.
The nails are starting to chip slightly, but I think I'll keep the colour on till the end of the festivities..
posted by rose at 11:42 AM
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