Word of Mouth

“I love the way you use that word in your writing. I become instantly hard just seeing it glowing on the screen. So many women fear it, are repelled by it, but not you. Not you.”

I can’t help but smile slyly at his admission.

He leans forward in an attempt to keep our salacious discussion at a discreet level as we sit in a quiet basement restaurant a stone’s throw from a four-top of suits indulging in a boozy weekday lunch and lingering gazes that are quite obviously undressing my lithe body, slowly but surely, one fine garment at a time.

“I can sense just how it excites you. It’s palpable. I feel the fire of your flesh radiating as I read. Each time I see the word, I think about your body, your uninhibited desire and wonder…about the parts of you shielded, unseen.”

My smile bursts open, a mixture of warmth and momentary shyness, as the blush blooms high on my cheeks. I know for a fact my clear blue eyes are blazing because he is now transfixed, and much like our dining companions to my left, unashamedly staring, his look languidly roaming from these eyes to the full mouth rouged scarlet to the contour of my breasts and the beauty spots underneath the collarbone he aches to lightly kiss and trace, all memorised in minute detail from the photographs I share.

“Now that we’re sitting here together – finally – and I can see you and feel your heat and smell the hint of your perfume from across the table, all I crave is the opportunity to hear your sultry voice say it.”

I mirror his gesture and move that little bit closer, my hands caressing the edge of the table directly in front of me before my fingers dance along the wooden frame to clutch at each periphery. My back straightens, elongates, the small arching ever so slightly as my sex pulses against the panties and the tightest denim I own. Unconsciously, I cross my legs, press my thighs together and grind myself into the chair. Dressed in a midnight black balconette and bordered by a complementary cashmere knit, my pert breasts rise and fall with each hot breath. His gaze wanders again, taking me in, landing at last on my hands, on the tips now a mere inch from his own.

I part my mouth, unsealing it with the smallest of sighs. My tongue licks along the edge of the fleshy bottom lip before I speak. The corners of my eyes and the long ebony lashes uphold my mischievous smile.

It’s his turn to grin with a wickedness that lights his entire face.

“Which word?”

I ask the question softly, a little coyly.

He doesn’t buy my stalling tactic for a minute. While the anticipation is maddening, it is also arousing and thickening his glans, out of sight under the table, in a way he can barely control. That thought alone leaves me ravenous, lustful, wanton. In response, my tips caress the grain of the wood, drawing long, fleshy lines as I imagine the curve of his straining sex trapped in its own denim prison, the sound of the metal teeth as I glide down his zip, the lurch of his naked shaft as it meets the cool air, the ridges and veins and the scent of his desire and the pearl of precum begging to be smeared by my thumb, begging to be brought to my mouth, suckled and savoured.

He regards me again as I hesitate.

He’s waited two years; he can certainly wait another minute.

“Beautiful minx, won’t you say it for me?”

The teasing and imploring softness in his voice leaves me vulnerable, weak. I can feel my core beginning to melt. But shrugged shoulders are my only reply. My eyes continue to beam; my lips are under strict instruction to hold their ground.

“So… Is this the way we’re playing it?”

Another shrug and a shake of my head and wild mane is all the answer I provide.

“Say it.”

With this simple phrase, his playful tone drains away. All of a sudden, there’s an edge in his voice. A dominant edge. An edge that has filtered through our communiqués on numerous occasions, leaving me more inflamed than I could readily admit.

The small triangle of diaphanous silk covering my mound is without warning sodden as the idea of his possession releases the flood from within, as the visual of being roughly taken by him from behind, in front of these men – his hands tearing my clothing to shreds, my jeans pushed over my hips, down my slender thighs and past my knees to settle chaotically on the tops of my stiletto ankle boots, his digits pinching my crimson nipples inside the lace remnants as he towers over me, fucking me hard and deep, his sex emerging slick and shiny with each decisive thrust – momentarily blinds me.

“Say it.”

My eyebrow arches in defiance and just as quickly yields and relaxes.

“Say it.”

I shiver in response. He is reducing me to a trembling submissive, to a little kitten. And he knows it.

“Say it. Now.”

My heart pounds, I shift in my seat, my eyes widen.


I whisper the word into the ether between us. His breath catches in his throat.


With this utterance, he visibly shudders. I have clawed back a little of my control.


Leaning back in his chair, he stifles a groan, acutely aware of the public space in which we find ourselves as well as his need to give in to his own touch, to the passions of his flesh, to his desire for me.

“My sweet tight little cunt…”

The five little words hang between us, clearly demanding more, clearly longing for completion.

“My sweet little cunt aches for… cock.”

Even through the aroma of the Mediterranean fare drifting from the open kitchen behind me, I can smell, almost taste, his arousal; I can feel the heat radiating up through his trousers. His scent is so overwhelming that the thought of his pulsating meat instantly waters my mouth and cunt in equal measure.

Yet I rein myself in as I sense the proximity of his defeat and undoing. The sweat prickling his brow and the clenched fists resting on his tensing thighs are all the encouragement I require.

“My sweet little cunt aches for… your cock.”

This time he exhales with force, his breath intertwined with a simple “Fuck” that lashes my sweet little cunt like a live wire. The pounding ache spreads through my entire body with a strength that sees my own skin glowing with the sheen of desperation.

As I watch his craving rise up and take hold, as I watch him sublimating the need to grab and stroke his burnished glans then and there with a roughness of hand, running his palm over his beard, down the strong curve of his neck, his fingers eventually clawing and clutching at his nape, another series of images assault me: the chair toppling as I stand in haste; my slight figure hovering over his six foot plus frame; the large hand on my hip as I straddle his legs; his digits sliding into the border of my jeans, fingering the drenched lace fused to my bright flesh; my nakedness gleaming under the lights and his mouth engulfing, devouring my cunt, his lips sucking my clit, my body trembling, screaming his name as I come hotly on his tongue.

Our eyes meet and I smile openly, somewhat brazenly. The temptress in me emerges. The kitten will keep for another day.


He is putty in my hands. And he knows it.

“I also love cock. I love the way it shapes and fills my mouth, the way it eases my soft, pouting lips apart, the way these lips lushly wrap themselves around that single…delectable…vowel.”

He turns to meet our neighbours’ stares. Judging by his smirk, our entire conversation has been overheard. One of the men shifts, planting his gaze firmly upon me. Even as I feel it burning into the side of my face, my eyes don’t stray from my man.

“I love the way it sounds out, the air thick with a masculine potency once it’s released, the way my voice can vary it, the way I can feel it thickening, engorging with speed and urgency, the way I can taste it on my tongue, its slick, salty tang, its sweetness sating my feminine hunger, the way I can milk it, lusciously lick the head of the word before ravenously consuming it, gliding it slowly down my throat, swallowing it, fucking it with the fervour of my want, my blistering breath.”

At last, I turn to acknowledge the four-top. I stretch out my hands on the flat of the table, a silent call for his teasing touch, for his repossession. The temptress and the kitten are duly rewarded.

“Yes. I also love cock. In case you had failed to notice.”

  1. Unbridledesires 2013.09.23 10:50pm

    This recounting is so incredibly sexy.

    He only had to wait 2 years? So there is hope…? 😉

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 8:44pm

      I’m tickled you think so, thirsty one.

      And yes, there’s always hope with me… 😉

  2. new admirer 2013.09.24 3:22am

    Simply Amazing. they say a picture paints a thousand words. but these words no picture could do justice to. And I’m not alone in admiring the beauty spots….”He is putty in my hands. And he knows it.” he’s not alone

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 8:48pm

      That’s a rather dangerous admission where I’m concerned, new admirer. I’ll try not to exploit it in future when I’m feeling particularly frisky.

      Thank you for the glorious words – and the smile playing upon my lips…

      • new admirer 2013.09.26 4:09am

        you delectable tease. don’t try too hard……

        • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.27 12:11pm

          Since the thought of teasing you is far too enticing, I won’t try at all…

          • new admirer 2013.09.28 2:38am

            oh god..

  3. southernsir 2013.09.24 7:05am

    Minx the telling of this encounter has ingrained itself in my mind more vividly then any photo.

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 8:50pm

      This is such high praise, SSir. You’ve made me a very happy minx…

  4. Max 2013.09.24 11:38am

    This is the hottest thing I’ve ever read. It absolutely slays me…makes me quiver in my seat…. Just wow….

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 8:52pm

      Now all you need do is move in a little closer so I can register that quiver with my fingertips.

      Thank you so much, Max – I adore the thought of slaying you with my words…

  5. Orpheus 2013.09.25 3:48am

    This is a truly mesmerising piece of writing. Normal adjectives such as ‘sexy’ or ‘arousing’ simply don’t do it justice.

    The argument, of course, should be that the word ‘cunt’ shouldn’t be so powerful. We should get over it. It’s the 21st century, after all.

    But it can’t be denied. That word, ‘cunt’, carries with it a huge power, and it’s clear that you recognise it. It carries that power from both parties, too – since I have rarely felt so completely immersed in a moment of sheer, unadulterated passion as when I whispered to my lover in clipped, but breathless tones that I was going to kiss her cunt, bury my face in her cunt…and, well, other phrases that even I find myself blushing to recall here.

    Extraordinary writing.

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 9:28pm

      There you go saying the most perfect things again, Orpheus. I’m resisting the urge to swoon once more.

      I agree with you completely about the power of the word ‘cunt’ and the taboo that continues to surround it. The word itself clearly carries with it a potently erotic charge that strips us all bare. There is something so intensely lascivious about speaking it aloud, with force or breathy, sultry tones. In some ways, I find its utterance material, performative even – the vowel as the vulva openly wanting and wanton, waiting for the lover’s face, mouth, lips, tongue to trace the cleft, to cleave and tease and devour its dripping delights. As you’ve probably noticed, the word ‘cock’ holds a similar erotic fascination for me.

      Speaking of fascination, I now can’t help but wonder about the other phrases that set the blush high on your own cheeks…

      • Orpheus 2013.09.25 10:47pm

        Performative. Yes, that. I would almost never – well, except in this case – refer to a woman’s cunt unless I’m, as you describe, poised to explore it with my fingers, my tongue, my mouth, my whole face. Unless I can see and smell its arousal. Cunt is an intensely physical word – as is cock. As much as I adore language – and erotic language – the words ‘cunt’ and ‘cock’ are mostly reserved for the moment when language becomes physical.

        As for those other phrases – well, with ‘cunt’ and ‘cock’ being such physical words, let’s just say that I find my turn of phrase at such moments losing their eloquence, their thought, their carefully-placed adjectives. In short, one’s language becomes rather…base.

        • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.27 12:24pm

          That loss of control, of expressive grace, that plunge, that free fall into the underside of language, into the lascivious, the licentious, the guttural, the base… It sets my mind alight, rouses this flesh, speaks to the wicked wantonness within me.

          And has me pondering once again about your own voice in those uninhibited, unbridled moments…

  6. Osbasso 2013.09.25 3:54am

    You know how much I dislike words without pictures, but DAMN! <3

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 8:54pm

      Do you? How did I not know this?!

      Since that’s the case, I’ll take your comment as a sweet victory, Os…

  7. Verbose Lothario 2013.09.25 9:14am

    If ever we meet in person, and I take you out for dinner, remind me to take you somewhere very public. 😉

    Oh, and somewhere close to our hotel, so we can get back quickly…

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 8:57pm

      Trust me, you won’t need a reminder, VL. As for the restaurant/hotel pairing, I have the perfect candidates in mind… 😉

  8. jk 2013.09.25 9:32am

    Holy falafal Batman. We have lift-off. 😀

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.25 9:02pm

      Damn, that’s a seriously delicious visual, JK… 🙂

  9. LadyinParis 2013.09.25 10:41pm

    This conversation should be etched in stone.. Marvelous piece, madame.

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.27 12:08pm

      This is such seriously dizzying praise I may need to take to my bed for a while to recover from this delicious swoon. Thank you, gorgeous LadyinParis…

  10. the late phoenix 2013.09.26 3:13am

    as Dick Enberg would say: Oh, my

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.09.27 12:09pm

      I’ll take that as a compliment, phoenix…

  11. bhp 2013.10.03 4:03pm

    I’m not known to have dialogue with the lord, but this episode has me exclaiming his and his sons name.. in blasphemy mostly.
    Jesus, Cheeky Minx.. what have you done?
    For the love of cake, I duly bow down and praise.

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.10.07 5:26pm

      I’m unsure, bhp. What have I done? Pray, do tell and spare me none of the delicious details.

      Thank you for the sly smile, the blush high on my cheeks and the image of you on your knees before me…

  12. Ella 2013.10.03 10:04pm

    Lucky, lucky guy!

    • Cheeky Minx 2013.10.07 5:19pm

      I’m happy to report he also thinks himself very fortunate…

  13. unbridledesires 2013.10.04 7:40am

    Say it again.

  14. miss 2014.04.18 1:01am

    Utterly mesmerising minx

    • Cheeky Minx 2014.04.21 6:24pm

      If I can leave you mesmerised, then I might be onto something. Thank you for the gorgeous words, miss…

  15. RedShoes51 2014.05.27 10:02pm

    How did I miss THIS one?!?!?!



    • Cheeky Minx 2014.06.08 2:27pm

      I have no idea! But I’m certainly glad you found this piece and enjoyed it so well, shoes…

  16. NLM 2015.04.14 3:14am

    You, Ms. Minx, are WONDERFUL!!!
    Your writing has snared me in, and so many of your words so closely resemble the relationship between my own Silver-Tongued Devil and myself. In fact, I too bear the Minx nickname, with pride.
    We see each other rarely, yet the heat and the passion we feel is so closely mirrored in your words, I almost feel like I’m on display for your readers. It makes me shy, shamefaced, bold and excited all at the same time.
    Thank you for your mesmerising words and allowing me to read what my soul feels for my man.
    Naughty Little Minx

    • Cheeky Minx 2015.04.18 7:15pm

      In all honesty, I’m unsure I can put into words just how gratifying and humbling it is to know you see yourself and your desires in my words. There is no greater compliment, my fellow Minx!

      I hope you and your Silver-Tongued Devil continue to enjoy the words and see yourselves reflected in my prose.

      Thank you for making my day, lovely lady. While it’s more than obvious by now, I need to say – welcome, welcome to my Cake…