Cold Sweat

by Vera Valentine

under-the-table demolition job.

A more quiet series of thuds and clinks told me he’d recently emptied the industrial ice maker in the kitchen directly into his head, and a glance over my shoulder confirmed it: the top of his head was bobbing with enough ice to re-freeze the arctic.

he always smelled amazing, like sweet, juicy fruit.

I liked the sound his frequently-replenished ice made: it reminded me of a windchime.

I’m a man that happens to be a glass pitcher of liquid, not blind. You’re gorgeous.”

Just as I was getting into it, a pulsating stream of cool liquid started licking and sucking my clit in a way that would make my shower head weep in carnal envy.

The liquid intensified into a hard, shuddering stream that had me arching completely off the bench.

My brows shot up as a hint of unmistakable cherry flavor trickled down my tongue a few minutes later, thick and syrupy and delicious.

Gonna fill you up to the top…my good little cup…”

He tasted as sweet as he smelled, a sweet burst of cherry on my senses

It splashed across our feet in buckets

You look damn good in my punch, little cup.”

I could spare many gallons more, so…maybe you could try out the tap and fix our little problem?”

you’re so refreshing Red. I could drink a whole glass of you.”

“That’s right, Jules. Suck me down like the thirsty little cup you are.”