Martha smiles proudly. "Then let me just lean over and get it."
She turns around and slowly grinds her bottom into you as she removes a saucepan from the stove. You grab her hips and grind back. Chuckling, Martha rises and leans against you. You start to nibble her neck when she pats you on the hand that you've wrapped around her waist and points a few feet away.
"Would you mind taking a seat on this sturdy Shaker-era chair?"
You oblige and she calmly straddles you, steaming pan in one hand, stirring the sauce with her finger.
"Could you tell me if this is all right?"
She takes her finger with the sauce and holds it in front of your lips. You lick her finger and she grins wickedly then playfully spreads the honey over and into your mouth. Getting a good taste of it, you are pleasantly surprised.
"Hey, this tastes good. I mean, really good!" you exclaim.
She smiles proudly. Of course it's good. "I'm so glad you like it. But, it's just the sauce. The important thing is what it goes on."
Martha rises. "Up, please," she orders.
You quickly get up and she sits in the chair herself. Swirling her finger around the sauce, she places a dab on her lips and smiles expectantly at you as it starts to dribble down her chin. |