Finger Lickin’ Good
Zazu had been reading her latest lover’s email. Well, more precisely, he’d been sharing the office male circle of humor, which had a fair number of juvenile sexual references. And there was this one new guy, a lawyer, who through his own obsessions always seemed to try out original lame verbal jokes about sex, offhand stuff, if you were okay with sex, even if a little kinky.
In some reference to horse racing and thoroughbreds…he compared one of his conquests to the sport of kings: “She was a great strider…I used to ride her mother to make a threesome.”
This explicit joy in the physical raunchiness of sex, this masculine fascination with large tits and ramming home the spear…it amazed her how thoroughly boyish, pneumatic and somatic these men were.
And Zazu liked that about cheating on her husband who had been cheating on her in hotel rooms around the globe for two decades. So what if she got fucked hard in the ass in a co-worker’s tinted window suburban van. So what if she “rocked his backbone” till he begged her to stop. Or sucked or jerked him off while having a meeting in her cube. Who really cared? Teen fantasies come true. The sperm made a sticky hand lotion. She licked her fingers as he hastily covered himself.
“What about the smell,” he whispered, eyes bulging like a toad, a miscreant amphibian at school.
And so for the helluva it, Zazu targeted the silly attorney, who was in the office only half time. She locked the crosshairs on him and set out her perfumed desire traps and knew he was hers when she complimented one of his jokes that ended with the punch line “finger lickin’ good.”
Six months later he’d moved on, Zazu had forgotten his name, and really didn’t care, but she was proud how quickly he’d served her as a fantasy plaything. Such an easy game, yet always room for improvement in the seductive arts. All in all, she reasoned, despite most men being stuck in junior high, they were still fun and…well, tasty, whether extra crispy or original recipe.