collab (the first one in a LONG time) with my poly-soulmate @lovecraft 



The heat had taken over in Washington D.C. Every summer couples start emerging like flowers in the grass. Warren and I were no exception. My closest friends knew about us, which was incredibly dangerous. Still our parents remained in the dark. I really wanted to tell them though. I wanted to tell the world.

I'd draped one of his shirts over my naked shoulders and started cooking us a late brunch while he was still asleep. Normally we'd be at my place, but due to the massive amount of paparazzis around my building (not because of me, but Barbara Bush live just above me and apparently she's gotten a new boyfriend or something uninteresting) we fled to Warren's apartment instead of mine.

The sound of sizzling eggs, the knife working through a tomato pretty much, the bread toasting, or maybe it was me singing along to Janelle Monáe on the radio woke up Warren. Suddenly I felt his hands cupping my breasts from behind, squeezing and kneading while kissing the back of my neck.

"Morning," I mumbled as casual as my rising arousal would let me. 

"Morning, baby," he breathed and one of his hands wandered down my stomach, hooking on to the hem of my plain cotton panties before digging into my flesh with his curious fingers.

My nipples got erect from his touch immediately. It was like he could push a button and turn me on. His presence was erotic for me. Not to mention the rising erection I started to feel growing against the small of my back. I threw my head backwards to rest it on his toned shoulders and arched my back, giving Warren even better access to my naked breasts. He started placing small kissing alongside my neck, but they grew in numbers and became more hungry. I moaned out loud, and even though I never wanted him to stop, I felt the urge of giving him some pleasure too. 

I spun around and wrapped my arms around his neck. He was smiling at me like there was no tomorrow. I slowly unbuttoned the shirt I was wearing whilst kissing Warren teasingly, letting just the tip of my tongue enter through his lips before pulling it out again. Judging from the hardness of his p-nis, this was driving him insane with lust. He helped me slide off his shirt from my shoulders and soon I stood in front of him with freed boobs and a wet spot developing between my legs. I pushed back the cutting board along with the knife behind me so it was out of reach before I kneeled down in front of my boyfriend's throbbing member.

In a rapid movement I yanked down his boxers, his c-ck almost slapping me across my face. "Dear lord," I giggled and looked up at him. 

He took a deep breath as if to regain himself before placing his hand on the back of my head slowly leading my open mouth toward the tip. "Dalia..." he mumbled as I embraced his big p-nis with my plumb lips.

I started doing my thing and bobbed back and forth like there was no tomorrow. Judging from the moans, he enjoyed it. Soon his legs started shaking and I could feel he was about to loose it, he grabbed me by the hand and helped me up (always a gentleman) from the floor. 

Still, he was smiling his content sex-smile at me, kissed me deeply and spun me around. I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was about to get busy on me - and damn, was he good. I don't think I've ever had anyone who could eat me out so well. "Oh, fuck!" I recall calling out a few times or five. 

Suddenly he pulled out his god-given tongue and stood up behind me, planting a couple of kissing along my spine. He put two fingers in me, as if to warm me up, before pushing his big p-nis in me. I was soaking wet, which only made it easier for him. I grabbed on to the kitchen counter in order to prevent myself from falling over. He was pacing it up until he pounded me, then he slowed down, then he picked up the pace again… "Oh, Warren, yes, don't stop!" I breathed as he f-cked my brains out. 

"Warren, for God's sake, in the kitchen, with food all around? Anyone else could have walked in just like me and witnessed you fornicating with some blonde girl, unmarried and all!" We both froze, which sucked as I was about to c-m. Warren went from super hard to almost limp in a splitsecond. Who was this guy? I recognized his voice and as I turned around there was no doubt - Mr. Dallas-Norwood. Warren's father. Warren was a younger copy of him, it was almost unbelievable that two people could look so alike - just an older version and a younger version. I snapped back and focused on the real issue here; the fact that he had caught us having s-x. A republican and a democrat. I picked up the shirt from the floor and put it back on as Warren withdrew himself from me. 

This was too embarrassing for me. Not once have I ever been caught having s-x. Not once with a republican and not once by a senator! I ran towards Warren's bedroom door. All I could think of was to tidy myself up. I had to face him sooner or later. 

Through the door I heard muffled voices; Are you kidding me?! Are you making some kind of sadistic joke, you spoilt bastard? Gustavsson's daughter? Gustavsson's daughter?!!"

"No, Dalia is to me my girlfriend, not a Democrat's daughter," Warren replied promptly and with a sternness to his voice matching his father's. I pulled on a dress I had in Warren's closet and ran my fingers through my hair. 

"Oh, I'm sorry," Mr. Dallas-Norwood replied sarcastically, "didn't know becoming your girlfriend changed her family lineage!" I heard the sound of glasses. Was Warren drinking? "Do you have any idea what this little fling is going to lead to?" I spritzed on Infusion d'Iris as if that would remove the smell of s-x from me. 

"I'm just trying to be happy," Warren said and I thought that was my cue to re-enter.

It took all of my courage, but I looked Mr. Dallas-Norwood in the eye and said, "I'm sorry you saw that, sir."

He just shook his head at me, almost making the drink in his hand spill over, "yeah me too. Your father will be as well, to hear it! This has to end!" 

"It's not a fling, dad. We're together. We don't care about politics enough to give it up," Warren's statement made my heartbeat race. 

"We'll see!" his dad replied and downed his drink. 

His father, whom I've never really talked to only had the (un)-pleasure of seeing at social events and political debates, poured himself another scotch and downed it in one gulp. Silence were roaming and, if possible, it got more awkward than the situation already was.

"Where are my manners..." I uttered as if a joke could light up the room (it didn't). I extended my hand for him to greet, "I'm Dalia. You sounded like you know my last name, Mr. Norwood." 

I stood there for a second or two with my hand stretched out from the rest of my body.

"Dad," Warren started, "Dalia wants to greet you." 

He ignored me and mumbled loud enough for us both to hear, "I already know your first and last name, the fact that you're fornicating with my son and that you're a democrat. I see no need for shaking your hand. Besides I don't want to know where that hand has been … let alone touch it."

I was stunned, stupified. Not once in my life has anyone ever talked to me like that. Never have I been unable to react. My arm fell to my side as my gaze fell to the ground in humility.

I saw Warren's fists clench and he was seconds away from baring his teeth and going straight for his father's throat, "you can't stand here like that and offend the woman I love in that manner!" he unclenched his hand and took mine in it lovingly. 

Mr. Norwood's whole face twitched at the word 'love', "don't throw words around like that and cut it off. I just saw her like her mother made her and you want me to squeeze her hand like she' s a decent girl? Ha! We'll see what her father has to say when he hears! I promised myself I'd never step foot in a Democrat's house again, but I'll break the promise if it means putting an end to this nonsense," he spun around and went straight for the frontdoor, putting down his glass at the nearest table. 

I stopped reacting at the word 'love'. He loves me? I must've looked disturbed because Warren rubbed my arm as if to comfort me, "it'll be ok. We're not Montagues and Capulets."


"You chose to state you love while talking to your dad after he caught us f*cking?"

He sighed and looked down on the floor before looking up at me. "But I DO love you, Dalia. I wouldn't have taken all these risks if I didn't," he looked me in the eye. I was afraid I was going to cry.

My insides were overflowing with bubbles of joy and happiness, but not yet I would allow myself to swim away in pure fortune, "I just don't want you to regret what you said if you felt pressure..."

"Dalia, look at me," he grabbed my chin between his thumb and index finger, "I never say anything if I don't mean it. And I love you."

Despite the words I just received from Warren's father and the prospect of having my trustfund taken away by my own father, I couldn't hold back a smile any longer, "I love you, too, Warren!"

The corners of his mouth crumbled upwards in a huge grin and he took me in his arms and kissed me. He pushed me up against his bare chest, the musky smell of sex and sweat filled my nostrils and made me regret the fact that we never finished. 

After kissing for a while we just stood there glazing into each other's eyes like only people in love can do. I broke the silence with saying, "you can finish me off now if you want."

Warren chuckled, "you're probably the strangest woman I've ever met."

"Can't wait for you to meet my mother then," I spat back laughing.
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