The dimly lit evening was a soothing caress of comfort as I stepped into my front door. The tie on my neck felt like a tightening halter, so I loosened it and shut the door behind me.
Home sweet home.
I dumped my suitcase on the sofa and instructed Alexa to play Frank Sinatra to cool my nerves. My day at work was a crumbling mess, but my evening date showed great promise. A smile cracked across my face.
I needed to get ready.
I rushed to my bedroom and adorned my best tux before heading down to the basement. The floor creaked and groaned as I made my way down there. The lights flickered as I clicked them on – I should probably make a point of changing the bulb one of these days. And right below the flickering shade of light sat an angel on a wooden chair, the bright fluorescent halo twinkling over her crimson hair. The love of my life. The source of my nightly joys. The anchor to my lost and wandering vessel.
I could see her smile, even underneath the tape wrapped so neatly over her lips. Her dazzling red gown was a thing of joy. Her long, sultry slit showed a teasing glimpse of the heavenly joys that stayed hidden underneath her chiffon glamour of a dress. I can’t remember her name, but I loved her regardless.
Her muffled cries intermingled brilliantly with her hidden smile as I picked the tweezers on the table nested to her side. She squirmed in delight, held by her gleaming restraints, desperate for my attention. Her tears of joy were, if nothing, but a sweet testament of this.
I licked the shiny tweezers in my fingers and strode in closer to my date. She could barely withhold her joy as she writhed and wiggled harder the closer I got. And soon, I stood right over her, caressing her soft, red hair in my hand. Her cries turned tremulous, probably orgasmic, as I ran a finger down her face, down her should, and finally, down to her soft, angelic hands.
I took to my knees before her and kissed fingers before looking up to her pleading, teary eyes. She wanted… no. She needed me to do it. Her warm, teary eyes begged for it. And being the gentleman that I was. Who was I to say no to a lady?
So, I brought the tweezers to the only finger on her hand still clad with a red, glossy nail. I tightened the tweezers over the tip and tugged. It resisted at first, but slowly, and with passionate persistence, it gave in. A rush ran through me as it parted from the warm embrace of its cuticle.
Her hot, scintillating cries filled the night as it slid farther out. She huffed and writhed as I pulled, gritting her teeth and shutting her eyes with bliss. Red, glistening juices flowed from the attachment as the nail elongated from its root. I shuddered with pleasure as my sweet lady’s muffled cries crescendoed to a low, visceral grunt.
With a smile, I licked my lady’s finger clean of the red juices before kissing the new, keratinous souvenir in the palm of my hand. My lady struggled to catch her breath, and I smiled, knowing all too well that my work here was done.
I took to my feet and planted a soft kiss on her sweating forehead. Leaning in over her ear, I whispered, “That was amazing, my love. I’ll see you tomorrow. Same time. Same place.”
