by Jamie Joy Gatto
(7/04/01)

A Basket Full of Surprises

Anton offers me little bites of crusty French bread smeared with a soft, buttery brie peppered with toasted walnuts. Blindfolded, I await the next delightful bite with a wide smile, eager to taste every morsel he has brought to this Sunday picnic. I trust him completely, knowing that each week he will bring a special taste treat, outdoing himself every time. With my vision obscured by the scarf wound about my head, my other senses are heightened, especially taste.

Now he gives me something cold, and he tells me to wait, not to bite it yet. I clamp my teeth lightly upon something chilled and savory. It tastes salty and strongly of butter. I feel it with my tongue as that smooth and hard wedge arrives in my mouth. An artichoke leaf. I taste the delicate green flavor, commingling with piquant garlicky butter. Sauce drips from the sides of my mouth as I use my teeth to scrape the flesh from the plump leaf. I chew and swallow, and Anton's tongue is soon running over my chin and cheeks, lapping up the buttery sauce.

I find his lips with mine, and I kiss him. His tongue dances into my mouth, playfully and artfully swirling along with mine. He is a strong kisser, a skilled kisser, but he is too delicate. I want to kiss him deeper. My pleasure at his picnic treat and the sensation of so many fine bites of food cannot compare to the way I feel about his lips, his mouth. And suddenly, I am hungry only for Anton; I can smell him so close, his breath, his scent. I pull him toward me and we fall back into cool grass. My lips explore his face, finding the strong lines of his nose, kissing tenderly along his brow. I kiss his eyes, his cheeks, then I open my mouth again to his. We fall softly into a sucking rhythm, mouths locked, bodies hot, moving together, close, growing more aroused. I can feel his cock pushing at his pants and onto my leg. My panties are wet.

Anton pulls away and he tells me to wait, holding me firmly by the shoulders. Now, he is fumbling with the basket; I hear the wicker scraping, some shuffling. He tells me to open my mouth widely, and I do. At first taste, it is something very sweet, giving way to an almost shocking tart flavor on my tongue. Raspberry jam! I close my lips around a thick globe covered in a sweet and fruity, sticky confection, instantly recognizing this fullness inside my mouth. I suck and I lick and I lap at Anton's huge cock tip. I can hear him groaning and whispering, "Fuck yeah...that's it," as I taste him, drawing him deeper until he is nearly down my throat.

I wrap my hands around his cock and I move it in and out of my mouth with a constant, steady rhythm. The taste of sweet berry jam lingers on my lips along with his heady man scent under my nose. His cock fills my mouth, and it seems to grow harder with each stroke of my tongue. I fondle his balls as I suck him harder. I hear him moan. His body becomes rigid, and I can feel the first bursts of come tapping at my throat. I swallow deeply, drinking in the bitter taste of man and sex. Groaning, Anton holds my head in his hands as he comes, nearly toppling us both over onto the grass.

I lie back, and pull away the blindfold. Bright sun floods my vision. As my eyes adjust, I can see Anton lying next to me, smiling, his eyes closed. I lean over and begin to fasten the blindfold-scarf around his head. "Now it's my turn..." I say. Anton just grins, allowing me to wind the scarf around his head. I have so many treats for him to eat.

Mary For Breakfast

Mitsu at the Market

Mitsu, when I see you at the market, carefully selecting the finest vegetables in the bunch, I wonder if you'll ever cook them for me. I watch as you lift up on your toes to reach the red cabbages in the back row, inspecting them like an expert, eyeing each one suspiciously. I watch them nearly shiver under your scrutiny. I see your A-line skirt ride up your narrow thighs as you lean in, choosing the freshest corn. The way your long, black hair sweeps over the small of your back leaves me breathless, and my heart pounds. I select a pale green mirliton, pretending to choose it over the rest, as your deep-set almond eyes glance my way. Do you like what you see? Is it me, or these strange, bumpy fruits for which you long?

You come nearer, plucking through eggplants as if they were lovers, carefully touching the hard, smooth rinds. You caress each one before choosing a proud, purple winner. I wonder if you'll cook them with shrimp and onions. I'd love to watch you eat. I'd love to feed you each tender bite. Oh, Mitsu. Do you even know that I exist?

You grasp a melon, fine green and smooth, raising it first to your lips, then to your nose to sniff. Just as you can savor the juices within, by smell and touch alone, I can taste you, my Mitsu. Your honey dew fills my mouth with the gentle nuance of sea salt and nori and woman. I can see you opening your lips to me, revealing the tender seashell between your legs. I long to put my lips there, covering yours, smooth, shaved, sweet and frail. I hunger for you, Mitsu. Just as you hunger for these foods, I want you.

Take my body, and make it yours. Stand before me, and choose me over the rest. Choose my cock over all others. My balls, ripe and smooth, swell with seed meant only for you. My legs, long and lean, are ready to support you, surround you. My strong arms will hold you. My body is yours to keep, as my heart is true. Each Saturday, I long for you.

But when Sunday comes, I forget you.

On Sunday, there is Moana, my Hawaiian dream. Wide-legged, broad hipped Moana, my brown goddess. She comes for the mangoes and pears. She presses the cool fruit to her flat nose, and I wish that I too could be in her hands. Firm, strong fingers, short nails, frosty pink, plucking handfuls of cherries, choosing spilling cartons of blackberries. Where will you be, my Moana, when the summer is gone?

I want to ride your waves and hills in a tropical place, licking and tasting every part of you. With the warm sun setting behind us, I want to uncover your massive breasts and cover their tan nipples with a white man's kisses. I want to eat you like a ripe fruit, and savor your sugary juices. Oh, Moana, are you real? Take me to paradise, suck my pink cock of passion fruit. Make me come in buckets of tropical rain. Lick my balls like fresh berries, make me shoot my load to the blue skies.

Take me today, this Sunday, because on Monday I'll belong to Mulan.

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