Excerpt of Electric Vamp -- A Ferguson Films Fantasy

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 © 2007 Erica Leigh Madson. All Rights Reserved.

 

Later that night, back at Jerry’s apartment, Sophie was licking garlic-flavored oil off the fingers of her left hand after finishing the last of the Crazy Bread. She was sitting on the floor with the textbook she was reading propped on her knees, taking notes and turning the pages with her clean right hand with her back against the sofa where Jerry was stretched out reading a photography magazine.
“Here, let me.” Jerry leaned down and sucked one of her fingers up into his mouth. Sending shivers down and up her spine.
“Mmm. Garlic fingers. Almost as good as buffalo wings.” At which he started gnawing on her knuckles.
“Hannibal the cannibal strikes again.” Sophie murmured as she turned another page.
“History tonight.”
“Yup. Need to find a hook for a paper on how the Romans stabilized the western Mediterranean. It wasn’t just the cities and the armies, you know, it was the standardization of the economy, the introduction of a single currency…”
Slurp. “That sounds pretty dry.” 
“Just add baby oil.”
“Yech!” Slurp. “You know how I prefer garlic. Mmm. How about some of that chocolate sauce from Christmas?  You know I have…”
“Jer-ree. You know I have to finish this. Do you want me to go home?”
“You can’t. Randy and Shawna are having a vid-game fest there tonight. And that’s not al -”
“I know, I know.”
While Jerry idly flipped through his magazine, Sophie managed to get through a couple more pages. Jotted down some notes. Thought it through – yes, the Roman currency was the key. Lots of research available and I can tie together both the history and the economics of the later Roman period into a good paper. Maybe not spectacular, but it’ll earn the respect of those who matter.
 An strange sensation brought her back to the present. Jerry was now sucking on her hair.
“Jerry!” she laughed.
He smiled unrepentantly as those Groucho eyebrows went up and down. “Yup. I know, it needs a little… je ne sais quoi. Ahh… Hold on a minute.” And he jumped to his feet and headed to the freezer.
“Here.” He produced a pint of Ben & Jerry’s Turtle Soup and, to Sophie’s surprise, stuck it in the microwave. “Just to soften it.”
Sophie had gone back to listing talking points for her paper as they bubbled up from her brain one after another, so she didn’t see Jerry give the ice cream another minute’s radiation, didn’t see him fetch her big-toothed comb from the bedroom, didn’t see him dip that comb into what was now ice cream soup, didn’t sense a thing until he was drawing that comb through her hair with all its sticky gooey mess.
“Hey.” She protested.
“Mmm. Now that’s real tasty.” Jerry whispered in her ear as he sucked Turtle Soup out of Sophie’s hair.
“I wonder what would happen if…” and Jerry seized her book and pushed it and her papers to the far side of the coffee table as he just as firmly pushed Sophie down to the floor pulling her sweatshirt over her head. Pinning her arms. And drizzled liquid ice cream down between her breasts to where it collected in her belly button.
One tentative lick, then another. Then his tongue caught a caramel cluster and swirled it around her breast and across the nipple causing Sophie to arch involuntarily and gasp, riveted by the dual sensations of the sticky soup and Jerry’s tonguing.
Books, notes, paper, all were forgotten as her concentration shifted to the man that she loved and what he was doing to her body. How could anyone resist such overwhelming feelings?
Feeling Sophie’s body capitulate, Jerry shifted back to sucking fudge from his love’s long hair, letting his incipient beard drag along that sensitive area below the ears to keep her body titillated, occasionally digressing back to teasing her tits with the pieces of nuts, stretching out the seduction as long as he could. 
Delaying any gratification until both were so hot and horny that they could not stop themselves from tearing off the other’s clothes, could not help their hands from roaming slick on the sweat over each other’s bodies, could not help their desire to please and to be pleasured, could not help their primal urge to mate, to become one and to attain the little death of complete and utter orgasm.
Could not help becoming aroused again by each other’s proximity as they lay panting together with their consciousnesses separating and sliding back into the real world. 
Could not help gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, into each other’s souls then moving as one to the bedroom. 


CONTINUED


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