I smile sleepily as I notice the table.  The steaming cup of freshly brewed coffee, the warm croissants, butter, jam and the note.  I pick up the note and see your handwriting, causing my smile to grow.  I read the words and as each one worms its way into my sleepy brain, I feel the familiar tingle.  The one that always accompanies you. 

The note read, “Good morning, baby... I hope you slept well, dreamt well... You'll find little notes jotted around the house, in fact in every room... Little hand scribbled notes... There are so many things I want to do with you, so many ways to take you... The first one is on the kitchen table... You'll find a steaming cup of coffee and a few breakfast nibbles although as the note suggests there is something altogether different, I want to taste over that table...Happy Saturday x”

My heart began to beat a little faster as the words took root and formed images in my mind.  I couldn’t help but play along and seated myself on the edge of the table.  Such a sturdy table.  We bought it with the forming ideas in mind.  We were both adventurous and had expressed desires beyond the mundane bedroom sex.  The idea of leaving our scent, our lust, on the place where we chose to eat was intense and we hungered for it.

Sipping the coffee, listening to the familiar sounds of the morning.  A beautiful morning after such a physical night.  My entire body ached, but that didn’t stop me from wanting more.  You, baby, bring out the lusty slut and cravings that can only be compared to an addict. 

Yes, I am completely addicted to you.

I hear you in the hall, knowing you are on your way toward the kitchen.  Poised on the edge of the table, feet against the chair, legs parted slightly… waiting.  The silk night shirt barely hiding my anxiety.  Nipples taut and raking against the material with each heaving breath.  My eyes as dark as any thunderstorm as I wait. 

I see you and flash a coy smile.  The look on your face soft and still sleepy.  I watch your face, your eyes.  See the lust building.  The knowledge that the ‘altogether different’ breakfast is just a few paces away.  I whisper softly, “I love your note, baby.”  My legs part a little more, offering you a glimpse of breakfast delights.  Anxious to feel you.  My entire body tingling with the prospect of your hands, lips, teeth, tongue and maybe… just maybe your cock.  Christ, how you drive me mad with want… with hunger so insatiable that nothing but you can appease, if only briefly.

Reaching out and pulling you close, my mouth against yours.  My tongue slithering forth, seeking and finding its mate within.  Our tongue slide and tease against one another and hands begin journeys, touching and fondling, creating electric currents to flow through us. 

My fingers work their way into your hair, raking gently as my body trembles.  You move against my right leg and knowing what you want… what I want… drop my leg allowing you passage.  You move in, taking and taking and I such a willing supplicant gives and gives.  We both hunger for so much more than coffee and croissants. 

I hear your low growl, the one that says so much.  You break the kiss and sit, pulling me closer to the edge and settle my feet up over your shoulders.  I feel your eyes drawn to the apex of my thighs.  Breakfast is so close.  Warm, wet and ready.  Of course, I am always ready for you.  Always hot.  Always wet.  You do that to me each and every day. 

I feel your eyes linger, the soft sounds purring in your throat as you pull your chair closer, lean in and breathe deep.  My scent thick as you inhale.  A cloying scent.  One that says, ‘She’s yours.  She’s ready.’  My back arches against the wood as you exhale, teasing, toying, and drawing out the torment.  You know I want this as much as you want to do it.  You can see it in every heaving breath, hear it in every soft whimper and see it in the glistening of my sex.  I wonder how long you will wait before delving into your offered breakfast.

Your hands moving against my thighs.  Electric currents fluttering throughout my entire body as you seem to simply be enjoying the view before you.  I see your tongue sweep your lips, watch as you move a little closer.  I feel your hot breath against my aching wet pussy.  I can’t help myself as my hips rise against the airflow. 

You look up past my sex, between my parted thighs.  You look into my eyes.  My heart melts as we connect on such an intimate level.  I see your hunger, your need.  Just as you see it in my eyes.  We are a matched set.  Soulmates.  We have known one another for so long.  Our connection is unbreakable. 

I feel your finger caressing my thighs softly.  My heart racing behind my ribs as I try desperately to breathe.  Nipples rigid as they push against the soft material, making peaks on the supple flesh.  My hands move and pull the nightshirt up, exposing more of myself to your hungry eyes. 

I moan, “Breakfast is served, baby.” 

Gasping as your head drops and mouth makes contact.  A moment of perfection.  Your tongue making long slow laps, quickly consuming the dripping lust that’s been boiling since I read your note.  My thighs tremble in desire and your fingers tighten and pull them wider, giving you more room to enjoy your morning delight.  My back arches as you work your tongue and lips against my swollen and hot sex.  You’ve always been a skillful lover and today is no exception.  You know exactly how much pressure, when to suckle, when to lap.  You know how erect my clit gets when you tattoo your name against it and you know just from my breathing and sounds how close to the inevitable edge to take me.

You know when to back off, giving me the moments to regain myself before doing it all again.  You love sending me to the very edge and holding me there.  You love how my body reacts to you, to your masterful ministrations and you delight in knowing that no matter how much torment you inflict, I will always come back for more. 

My entire body trembles as you devour your well-prepared meal.  Your tongue lapping and lips suckling.  I feel your fingers relax and as you move your head lower, feel your tongue probing for the source of the endless liquid.  I feel your tongue moving, fucking my quivering hole.  I feel your fingers grazing my erect clit, forcing moans and whimpers from my raging body.

My fingers curl against the table’s edge.  Holding fast as you push me… closer and closer.  The edge coming up fast, like a rushing train.  My head thrashing against the table, my moans and pants growing in volume as your tongue is replaced by two fingers.  My hips jerk as you find the spot.  The special spot that makes a puddle.  My hips rutting against your face, aching for more and I get it. 

Your lips attached to my clit, holding it as your tongue flashes over it, while your fingers begin massaging the spot, causing my entire body to tremble and writhe.  The sounds filling the kitchen are inhuman as grunts, groans, moans and cries echo against the walls. 

I hear you growl in reply to my own sounds.  You know I am close and eagerly anticipating the drenching you’ll be receiving.  You are the only one that can cause me to squirt, and you try your damnedest each and every time you go down on me.  You enjoy the feel of my essence covering you.  You’ve even gone to work without showering with my scent on your face and in your hair.  I’m betting you were the envy of every male in the office.  Them knowing that you had a ‘very good morning’ by brandishing that very fact with my scent.

Your mouth and tongue working in unison to your fingers.  The white heat building like a wildfire as you push me along the desperate edge.  You consume and consume, tongue lapping, lips suckling, fingers penetrating.  You hear my need, feel it against your fingers as my cunt contracts, my clit throbs.  You know how close I am and in a moment of mercy, you push me just a little further until I am flying over the edge.

A hoarse scream erupts from my throat, fingers white-knuckled against the table as my body explodes sending copious amounts of fluid outward.  You pluck your fingers free allowing my essence to bathe you.  Covering your face and chest.  You lean in breathing in my scent and heat as your tongue darts forth lapping up every last drop you can. 

You make the most pleasurable sounds as you lap and suckle.  Causing multiple convulsions and trembles throughout my body.  I float in the inky black.   The abyss of pure pleasure.  Enveloped in the haze of adoration and care as you work diligently to clean up the mess.

The hot sticky mess of breakfast.  I glimpse the future.  Lunch is only a few hours away…