Grapes

In quick and eager succession, he brings grapes to my lips, one at a time, and I bite off just a little bit of the end of each. These ones are crunchy, bursting with sweet water.  They make a snapping sound between my four front teeth, and I drag some of the green skin off with each bite.

He gets to keep the bitten grapes, putting them in his little dish, taking them to his little cage.  He licks the spot where I bit, before letting the whole grape explode inside his mouth.  I listen to him smacking on the fruits behind the barely sheer blue curtain with embroidered flowers that i hung outside the little den.  I smile and breathe deeply.

This is how we kiss today, this year. This is how he keeps his mask on and keeps me safe from sickness but gets to taste my tongue.  This is kinky, sensual, delicious, and fun.

He crawls out when he's finished, to kneel at the foot of my wheelchair and bury his head between my knees, arms stretching to rub my fingers. I oblige and rest disabled hand in his, and let my fingers be stretched and admired.   

For a moment I am not uncomfortable in my body. For a few minutes my wheelchair is not just an abusive companion, but a pedestal I chose.  I look down into hungry brown eyes and feel wrapped in adoration. 

This is how we fuck this year. Petting, massaging, finger feeding, nibbling on grapes and skin of him too.

He looks away and sighs silently.  I feel the fullness of his satisfaction and know the spell is working.  Breath, magic, power, play.  Bursting like a grape, he asks "Can I make you some more tea, Goddess?"