Total pages in book: 9
Estimated words: 7952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 40(@200wpm)___ 32(@250wpm)___ 27(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 7952 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 40(@200wpm)___ 32(@250wpm)___ 27(@300wpm)
She did all of this under my nose and I had no idea. We'd made so much food over the day that I hadn't realized that all of it was not appearing on the table. I stare at the bounty of delicious-smelling meals, all made without the cheeses and meats that humans love. These are mesakkah foods, right down to the fried leaves and piles of roasted tubers lightly coated in oil and pepper.
She did this for me.
Because she wanted to spend time with me. Because she is thankful for me.
I pull her close and press my mouth to hers. She makes a startled sound, and for a moment, I wonder if I am kissing wrong. It is not something mesakkah do, but I have dreamed of this day for months now, and I have prepared. There is a human guide to lovemaking called Outlander, and I borrowed it one afternoon when I saw it left on Lady va'Rin's sewing table. I had the computer scan it in and read the text to me through my data pad, as I cannot read the human tongue.
It was very enlightening. I studied the mating passages in that book a great many times, preparing for the day that I might need to impress Pamela with my skills. I paid very close attention to how the male in the guide touched the female.
Trying to remember it with my lips upon Pamela's is very difficult, though. She is so...soft. So yielding yet sweet. I groan despite my efforts to remain in control. It occurs to me that I did not ask for permission first, and I should have. I lift my head—
She whimpers and pulls me back down, her lips on mine once more. That is all the permission I need. Ravenous, I kiss her again, enjoying the mash of lips together, the press of my mouth to hers, sometimes hard, sometimes soft. I remember in the book that tongues were used, and I brush mine against the parting of her lips.
Pamela moans. Her hands twist in my uniform, and she's kissing me back, her tongue rubbing along mine. It is the greatest sensation in the world, and my mind goes blank. I forget about the holiday, I forget about confessing my feelings to her. I forget about everything but the sensation of her mouth, her lips, her tongue, her taste.
"Toghar," she pants between kisses. "W-what is this?"
"This is me kissing you," I tell her. She's talking, and that means she's no longer focusing on my kisses. It means I need to kiss her more, to make her as lost to pleasure as I am. "Can I touch you more?"
She gives me a startled look and then nods. "If you'd like to."
I put my hands on her arse and heft her onto the counter. Pamela makes a squeak of protest, her hands fluttering onto my shoulders, but I remember how to do this next part. I listened to this particular passage of the book a great many times, and I know there is a special spot between her thighs that is the center of her pleasure. I push her skirts up, moving my hand between her legs until I encounter a strange garment covering the mound of her cunt. Odd. She makes another noise of surprise but doesn't push me aside. Instead, she spreads her legs a little wider.
The fabric between her legs is damp with arousal, and I rub my thumb over it, watching her reaction. She puts her hand over her mouth to stifle the sounds she makes, her eyes wide. I drag my fingers over the patch of fabric, moving slowly back and forth, outlining the cleft under it. "Should I stop?"
She shakes her head.
"I'm going to touch you under the fabric," I tell her.
"Sh-should we be doing this in the kitchen?" She's breathless with need.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No."
"Then, yes. We do this in the kitchen." I move the band of the fabric to the side, exposing the tuft of hair covering her cunt. The heat of her is palpable, and this time, instead of stroking the fabric, I stroke her. The soft skin, the cleft, everything. Her pupils dilate, eyes becoming hazy with arousal. She's so beautiful like this, her cheeks flushed red, her lips parted as she watches me. I drag my finger through her wetness, tuned in to her reaction. The book stated there was a spot between her thighs, surrounded by her folds, but it eludes me.
"The food," she breathes. "What about—"
Then, I find it.
I can tell I've grazed over the spot by the way she jumps, her legs clenching. Her eyes go even wider and then both hands are on the front of my uniform again, clutching at me. She pulls me in for a kiss once more, mouth hungry on mine. She is the aggressor this time, kissing me fiercely as I pet and stroke the softest, most responsive parts of her body. Pamela's breath shudders as I draw tiny circles around the tender nub with my fingers. In the book, the male mouthed his mate until she came, but Pamela will not let go of the front of my uniform, and I'm loath to stop touching her for even a moment.