| Subject: Chapter 6: Leave Your Rucksack On (NC-17) (Zute made me post another chapter. *g* "Get to the *good* stuff," she told me. ;-D LOL) |
Author:
Sanlin
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Date Posted: 04:15:02 12/06/01 Thu
In reply to:
Sanlin
's message, "Welcome everyone :-D and a repost of "It's Absurd"" on 18:05:34 12/01/01 Sat
Michael stuck his head around the corner. "I’m just…" He saw Nikita in the Swedish hiker’s outfit and froze in place, motionless, breathless; a statue commissioned in honor of Nikita, the Goddess of Beauty.
His eyes shimmered like emerald pools of light. He blinked a few times, slowly regaining the power of speech, and stuttered, "It can…wait."
Michael entered the living room and, rather shakily, took his place on the couch as Nikita rose, went over to the CD player and started the music.
She gazed at Michael enticingly, her startling blue eyes sparkling and seductive. In a mock-Swedish accent, she said, "Please to be helping me with my rook-sack?"
Nikita started removing the rucksack, quickly, but Michael grinned, his gaze moving from her eyes, to her lips, and back again, saying, "No. Slowly. Perform for me."
Michael’s words echoed ones he’d once spoken under much different circumstances. This time, however, there was only Michael to perform for and Nikita was happy to oblige. She locked eyes with Michael in a burning, sensual stare and began a slow, erotic striptease.
In the background, although it was difficult to concentrate on anything but Nikita, Michael heard the music, "You Can Leave Your Hat On,” playing:
Baby, take off your coat—real slow.
And take off your shoes—I’ll take off your shoes.
Baby, take off your dress—yes, yes, yes.
Nikita kept time to the music as she slowly peeled off pieces and layers of her costume, tossing each garment at Michael in increasingly suggestive and seductive ways. She licked her lips; moved her hands up and down her body, sensually; and then turned around and offered Michael a nice view of her… ‘rucksack.’ After that display, Michael’s mind automatically altered the song lyrics from ‘hat’ to ‘rucksack’ as the music continued.
You can leave your rucksack on.
You can leave your rucksack on. You can leave your rucksack on.
Go over there. Turn on the light. Hey, all right.
Come over here. Stand on that chair. Yeah, that’s right.
Raise your arms in the air. Now, shake them.
You give me reason to live. You give me reason to live.
You give me reason to live. You give me reason to live.
By the time Nikita got down to wearing only her panties, sports bra, rucksack, and a smile, a tiny sound escaped unwillingly from the back of Michael’s throat.
Nikita’s smile widened. She’d heard that sound before. It was a small whine, a famished whimper. The sound a lovable mutt makes when begging for a bone.
She released the clips on her bra and tossed it to Michael, playfully.
His whimper deepened to a moan. He held the clothing, still warm from being next to Nikita’s flushed and flexible body, against his nostrils and inhaled Nikita’s intoxicating, primal scent. A deep growl rumbled low in his chest and his green eyes took on the feral aspect of a hunting panther.
Nikita, oblivious to the danger, danced closer to Michael. She took his trembling hands in hers and invited him to touch her.
This nasty talking: they try to tear us apart.
They don’t believe in this love of mine.
They don’t know what love is.
They don’t know what love is. They don’t know what love is.
They don’t know what love is. Well, I know what love is.
Michael groaned, his body quivering in anticipation. He ran his fingers, his touch as light as silk, up and down Nikita’s warm, yielding body and stroked his fingertips over her hips, thighs, and stomach. He moved his questing lips gently over Nikita’s delicately swaying belly, covering her body with a cascade of kisses, each one increasing in length and passionate intensity. Abruptly, he darted his hot tongue into her navel, startling her. She cried out as Michael licked slow, lingering circles around her bellybutton then lightly bit into her sensitive flesh.
"Michael!" It was Nikita’s turn to moan and feel weak in the knees. She pulled Michael’s head, with its soft, curly auburn hair, against her firm stomach. Nikita laughed as Michael struggled weakly and his hair tickled her exposed flesh.
She gasped as Michael moved suddenly upwards, taking one of her breasts between his teeth and tugging it, playfully. He teased her nipple with his tongue until it ached with hardness. Simultaneously, he caressed her other bud, brushing it softly with his long, sensitive fingers.
As Nikita’s brain struggled to sort out the conflicting impulses of soft and hard, Michael skillfully moved his searing tongue downwards, like a ribbon of liquid flame over her eager flesh. She moaned her approval, arching her body against his efforts as he licked her navel fondly in passing. He slid his fingers under the edges of her panties, pulling until they pooled around her feet and she stepped out of them. Her voice caught in her throat as Michael’s lips descended further still, until his tongue found her warm, wet entrance and teased inside of her.
He stroked into her deeply, reaching out with one of his fingers to sweetly torture her pearl as his tongue delved hotly into her, stroking against her walls and sensitive flesh. She resisted the siren’s call of his sharp, finishing strokes as long as she could, loving the feel of him inside of her, then wrapped her fingers into his silken locks and cried out his name, shuddering and trembling against his mouth. Pulsating waves of pleasure radiated from her inner core, overtaking her senses and she leaned against his hard, warm body to keep from falling.
Nikita let Michael continue his ministrations a few moments longer. She groaned in pleasure and received answering moans from her devoted lover. Delicious warmth and pleasurable aftershocks spread through her body.
When she felt steady enough to move, again, she laughed and danced away from him; retrieving her panties, slipping them on and cheekily flashing him her backside, which peeked out at all the right angles.
Please tell me:
You can leave your rucksack on.
You can leave your rucksack on.
Baby, you can leave your rucksack on…
She twirled the rucksack off her bare, creamy shoulders, tossed it to Michael and bowed theatrically. Her long, blond hair swept forward, concealing her laughing face and hiding her hard, peaked breasts from his sight for a moment.
Michael closed his eyes and sighed. The private performance, as deeply moving as it had been, was over.
As soon as he could speak again, Michael said, "Wait here, Nikita. I’m going to program some CD’s on the disc player. Watch the movies until I call for you. Then start the CD’s and come for me."
"Don’t be long or I’ll start without you," Nikita teased, calling after Michael’s retreating form, which was already, Nikita noted with some amusement, moving rather hastily.
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