Little Miss Muffet

“Little Miss Muffet…”

He reached down between her legs.

“…sat on her tuffet…”

He slipped his hand, between her legs, into the crotch of her ruffled panties, as she sat at the kitchen table, drinking her morning coffee over the newspaper.  His voice was subtle and playful in her ear.  A whisper.  An invitation.

“…eating her curds and whey…”

He took a ripe strawberry from the bowl on the table and placed it in her open, waiting mouth, effectively pulling her attention away from headlines and current events.

“…Along came a spider…”

His tongue tickled her neck as he kissed a path to her ear.

“…who sat down beside her…”

He sat down and pulled her onto his lap.  A sigh escaped her lips…a silent offering of her body, a conditioned response to an expected stimulus.

and invited Miss Muffet to play…”

She put down her coffee cup, closed her eyes, and let his hands change the course of her day.

(Visit the Wicked Wednesday website to see what others did with the prompt.)

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