Seven Deadly Sins

by K D Grace

  “Love, I understand. Look.” He pulled his wallet from his pocket and slipped a photo from it over the crisp white table linen to me.

  “Who’s that?” I asked, looking at the bearded big guy in the picture.

  “Me about ten years ago.”

  “Really?” I looked up at Roman and back to the photo.

  “Yep, really. I got to a point I wasn’t happy. Changed my habits and now I’m healthy.” He grinned and put the old image of him away again.

  I nodded. But Roman had eaten all the dessert at the party, he was munching on the beef without a care. Surely that wasn’t possible.

  “Balance, Belle. Balance. Now enjoy your salad. It’s a treat for me as much as for you.”

  I nodded and prodded my fork into the lush picture of flavour on the plate in front of me. I took a deep breath and lifted the loaded fork to my lips, opened up and ate.

  Roman watched entranced. I smiled and munched, moaned like I’d just had my clit licked and took another bite. It was fresh, tasty and good. I enjoyed it. I swallowed down the guilt, I buried the calculator in my mind which wanted to add up the calories and I just enjoyed it.

  “That’s it...” Roman licked his lips as I enjoyed another mouthful.

  I blushed. I still wasn’t used to Roman’s intense attention.

  “It’s very good,” I admitted. “The mozzarella is so creamy.”

  “Watching you eat makes me so hard,” Roman whispered, as I picked the last few leaves from my plate. “You know I’ve got one hell of a hard on for you right now.”

  “Have you?”

  “Oh yes, I have. Knock your knife to the floor and peek under the table cloth.”

  I did what he asked, even though I felt a bit of a fool scrabbling around and I worried my ass might be on show. I poked my head under the cloth and saw that Roman’s trousers were unzipped and he was busy palming his erection!

  “Yes, you have.” I commented as I sat back in my chair and smoothed my skirt down. I really didn’t want to give anyone a free flash! I wish I could leisurely wank in public. I could feel my juices clinging to my thighs. I hoped to the high heavens I wouldn’t leave a damp patch on the seat.

  “Told you,” he smirked. “The combination of seeing you eat and smelling your alluring musk is driving me mad with desire.”

  Just then the waiter came and cleared plates. We smiled, thanked him and sat in a tense silence until he’d gone.

  “I so want to fuck you across this table right now.” Roman reached out his hand and took mine. Any onlooker would think we were an innocent young couple exchanging sweet nothings. They couldn’t feel the wet warmth of Roman’s hands. “Can you feel how horny I am for you?”

  “Yes,” the reply was more breathy than I anticipated. The words stuck in my mouth as all my moisture seemed to be pooled elsewhere.

  “Lick your fingers,” Roman urged. “Taste me.” He snaked his hand back and I looked down at my hand. I really wanted to obey him, not just to make him happy but because I genuinely wanted to taste him. But it was rude to lick one’s fingers, especially in public. I did have some manners.

  I looked up at Roman, his intense blue gaze urged me on. I lifted my arm, brought my fingers to my lips and licked. I tasted salt and something lightly sweet like a ripe green grape. I dropped my hand when the waiter approached once again. My cheeks were hot and I am sure the waiter must have known something was going on. He seemed to wink at Roman as he placed our main courses before us.

  I wasn’t hungry, not for food anyway. And for a moment I just stared at the white fish arranged so artfully on top of a bed of vegetables and potato. I wasn’t sure I could eat any of it, but then I caught the aroma and my stomach rumbled.

  “Tuck in,” Roman said, after swallowing a mouthful of his own dish. “Before it goes cold.”

  “Okay, “ I smiled and picked up my fork. I pierced a little bit of everything and placed it in my mouth, very aware of my lips as they pulled off the food. My lips tingled as I chewed. I wondered if Roman still had a hold on himself, but when I looked over he was using both his knife and his fork.

  I wondered if he was still hard. I was wet and I wanted the meal to finish so we could fuck. I’d not felt so driven by my desires before Roman came into my life. He made me crazy and I loved it.

  “Good food is almost as enjoyable as good sex.” Roman announced.

  I wished he’d lower his voice. I was sure the people on the next table could hear every word he said.

  “I think so, anyway,” he continued. “How about you?”

  “Yes,” I responded, nodding.

  “Yes, what?” his eyes sparkled with mirth.

  “I agree with you,” I stuffed another mouthful of food between my lips in hopes he’d shut up.

  “You agree with what? Come on, Belle, I want you to say it.”

  I chewed. The flavour explosions in my mouth distracted me from my unease for a moment, but then I had to speak up.

  “I think good food is almost as good as sex.”

  Roman nodded and chuckled. “Yes, and we will test out that theory tonight. After dessert I’m going to fuck you, Belle. I can’t wait.”

  At least he’d lowered his tone just a little that time.

  “I can’t wait either,” I whispered and continued my meal. It really was very delicious and healthy. I thought of the vitamins and minerals with each bite. I wasn’t just shovelling it in. I wasn’t being greedy.

  “What are you thinking?” Roman placed his cutlery on his plate. “You look tense.”

  “Oh, nothing,” I shook my head. “It’s silly.”

  “No, no, tell me.”

  “Well, I was just thinking about the vitamins and minerals and goodness. Telling myself I was doing my body good, that I wasn’t being greedy eating this big plate of food. I worry about it, you know.”

  “Oh, Belle, I know. I’ve been there. Poised, as you are, on the brink of an eating disorder.”

  “What?” I yelled the word a little more forcefully than I meant to and various people looked round at our table.

  “Now, now, you know it’s true. You’re obsession with calories is not healthy. How many calories do you allow yourself in a day?”

  I wasn‘t sure I wanted to tell him, he was going to make fun of me.

  “Enough,” I tutted.

  “Tell me,” He demanded.

  “Well,” I relented, I didn’t want to make a scene. “I work off a thousand calories. I was doing the recommended one thousand two hundred but I wasn’t losing weight on that.”

  “Belle, listen to yourself. You know you’re restricting too much. I understand, I do. I did it for a while myself but you will make yourself ill, trust me on that. Your body has obviously decided you’re at the perfect weight, be happy with that.”

  “But I am still fat,” I exclaimed and felt a tear run down my cheek. “I need to lose more.”

  “No, no,” he shook his head. “You’re perfect.”

  “But —”

  “No buts, Belle. Those images you crave to look like, the ones on billboards and in magazines are not real, darling. You are real. You are beautiful. Please don’t ruin that.”

  He genuinely meant it. I could see it written in his eyes. He thought I was perfect. Couldn’t he see the extra flab I still needed to lose?

  “Roman, I just need to get rid of a few more pounds and then I’ll —”

  “That way madness lies,” Roman nodded. “Trust me. Please don’t waste away, Belle.”

  “No, no. I couldn’t. I’m not built like that,” I soothed. He looked more upset than I was. It was very peculiar. I wanted to reassure him it’d be okay. I wanted to go back to the fun and games we’d enjoyed earlier.

  “Okay, okay,” he nodded. “We’re getting too serious now. Let’s choose dessert.”
<
br />   I was going to kick up a fuss. I was going to refuse because I couldn’t have dessert on my diet but I took one look at his face and just smiled and nodded. Maybe he was right. Maybe I was being too restrictive. What difference would one dessert make? I could work off the calories tomorrow.

  “Okay,” I agreed. “What do you fancy?”

  We decided on the same dessert. A fancily named lemon slice, like a cheesecake but not. It was creamy and zesty with just a little crumb at the base to give texture, and a zingy berry compote to contrast. It was delicious and I enjoyed every mouthful.

  “So are you ready to go home and fuck, now.” I asked when the plates had been cleared. Roman’s face was a picture of surprise. He laughed.

  “Yes, I am ready to fuck, Belle, let me pay the bill first.”

  I was anxious to go. My stomach was pleasantly full but my other ache was not fulfilled at all. Roman paid and we exited the restaurant. I was just about to suggest hopping into a taxi to my place when he grabbed my hand and pulled me down a tiny side alley.

  “What are you doing?” I yelped as he pushed me against a wall and squashed himself against me.

  “Fucking you,” he responded, then dropped his lips to mine for a kiss. My heart was racing. I was outside, in a dirty little street and Roman wanted to fuck me. What if someone saw us?

  “It’s been driving me mad being able to smell you all through dinner. I need you.”

  He kissed my neck and ran his fingers up my thigh to test the wetness there. I moaned. I was more than ready to be fucked.

  “You’re so wet. Fuck, I love it.” He slid his fingers into me, his thumb rubbed against my clit and I mewled in delight.

  “Turn around, quickly, put your hands on the wall. Fuck, I am so hard.”

  I was scared, anyone could walk past and see me like this but I was also incredibly turned on. I ignored my fears. I turned around and pressed my palms against the rough, crumbly brick. Roman angled my hips, arched me until I was perfectly poised for him.

  I glanced left and right, saw no one. I licked my lips as I heard his zip, and I quivered in anticipation as I felt him rolling my skirt up my back. A crinkling of a packet assured me he was being safe — well, as safe as you could be having sex in public! I took a deep breath and moaned it out. He slipped so easily into me. I closed my eyes and let the satisfaction of his cock inside me wash away the fears of detection.

  “Oh, Belle...fuck Belle...so good, so good,” he whispered, the heat of his breath tickling the back of my neck. I wasn’t particularly comfortable, the brick was rubbing at my palms, I was sure there’d be scratches and my back and calves ached with the strain. But I was supercharged with arousal and I felt alive. I wanted to giggle with glee but I was too busy gasping and groaning and panting out my pleasure.

  “Perfection,” Roman squeezed my hips. “You are absolute perfection, Belle.”

  And I felt perfect, in his hands, with him fucking me, I felt like the prettiest girl in the world.

  “I can see your ass cheeks jiggle with each impact,” he whispered. “And it turns me on so much. They’re full and juicy and ripe.”

  He removed a hand from me and I yelped when it impacted on my exposed buttock. At first I was worried about the noise, would the crack of his hand on me draw attention? Then the fire of the spank broke through the worry and made me hiss with pain. But as he slapped once, twice and a third time I felt the pain mix and meld with the pleasure flowing through my veins and I coasted along on a euphoric high. It felt good being so bad, there where any passer-by could see. My body was alive with orgasmic energy, I felt a sting of ecstasy with each slap. It felt like a mini-orgasm, it was so intense.

  Roman stopped after a few more hits and gripped my hips again. I knew he was close to his climax. As I drew his orgasm into my cunt I felt the pleasure flowing through me from top to toe.

  That was the beginning of something special. Roman was my ultimate treat, whenever I was with him I felt alive. We had many enjoyable meals with each other and a few we ate off each other, too. I relearnt the joy of food and how to be a gourmet instead of a glutton.

  And I always let myself over-indulge in Roman. I could never get enough of him. Some things are just too good to ration.

  Envy

  Green-Eyed Monster

  ♦♦♦♦

  by Lily Harlem

  Chapter One

  ♦♦♦♦

  I knew I should resist. Really I did. But I couldn’t. The urge was just too compelling. Crazy, really, because it wasn’t as though seeing it made me feel good. No, it gave me this gut-wrenching, skin-crawling sensation that made my head thump and my heart pound. It caused me to feel sick and twisted physically and mentally.

  What have I become?

  But it also wet the gusset of my knickers and spiked my nipples until they pushed against the silk cups of my bra. Watching made my clit tingle, as if it ached to get bigger, and my lips often felt bruised afterwards; perhaps I bit them without realizing.

  I released my cock from its satin-lined box and walked towards my bedroom window. As usual I didn’t draw the blinds, just allowed the London darkness to swallow my still figure and keep me hidden. Now all I had to do was wait.

  Waiting spun what-ifs around my head, web-like, obsessive. To calm myself I stroked the length of silicone, feeling its dense weight in my palm — it could soothe my nerves as much as it could bring me to a wonderful, ecstatic frenzy.

  You see, I wanted what he had. Desperately. I had no idea where this dark longing had come from. One day it had just hit me, a physical punch to the gut. It stole my breath, knotted my insides and consumed my thoughts. Now my days revolved around my need for it.

  His name was Dai — Welsh for David, so he told me — and he worked at Rengrade IT Solutions based on the Arlington Road. I knew this from our chats at the bus stop every morning. It was Dai who’d started the conversations. Comments about the weather at first — moaning about the rain or praising the sunshine — then he went on to chat about what he was doing at the weekend or admire something I was wearing; once he told me he liked my new jacket and it went well with my emerald eyes. Whenever he spoke I would nod and watch his mouth; his bottom lip was fuller than the top and his right canine a fraction raised.

  He’d told me he enjoyed going to the dogs. Which meant he was a bit of a gambler. That was okay, I had vices too. I couldn’t say no to nicotine and lately I’d been biting my fingernails again. Oh, and I guess playing with my cock was an undeniable addiction and many would call it a vice.

  I tensed as the light in his apartment came on. The one in his lounge. His smart black leather shoes and dark grey suit trousers appeared. He wore a pale blue shirt with a navy tie — the tie loose and the shirtsleeves shoved up.

  He moved to his kitchen area and did what he did every night when he got back from the office. He pulled open the fridge and popped a beer. Tipping his head, he took a long drink. I could just make out his black hair shifting at the nape of his neck. I adored his neck. The way his dense stubble coated his Adam’s apple then tapered out at the hollow of his throat.

  He’d had his hair clipped short a few months ago, I loved how his nape had appeared pale and vulnerable back then. It set into motion dreams of how the hair around his cock would look on me. Black and wiry, thick enough to tangle my fingers in. It would rise up to my naval in a feathery line and grow down to join hairy thighs.

  He set down his beer. Tugged off his shirt and revealed his chest. I smoothed my thumb over the head of my cock and dragged in a breath. He had skin the colour of toasted biscuits. Acres and acres of perfect smooth flesh my palms ached to glide down and find what I wanted most and grip. Grip tight and fierce, beg him to tell me what it made him feel like to be touched there, adored there, and brought to a hard climax with a determined, beating fist.

  He disappeared and I glance
d at the mottled window I knew to be his bathroom. Within seconds it glowed amber. He would be showering now. It was a damn shame I couldn’t see in. The thought of his cock being caressed by running water, white suds and swirling steam was enough to make my knees go weak. He’d wash it thoughtlessly I was sure, brisk, industrious movements designed to clean not stimulate. How one became complacent with what they had. If only I could have that experience just once, just one shower holding my cock, bringing it to full arousal and then slamming out an orgasm, spurting milky semen against the tiles and watching it wash away, down the plughole as the water rained from above and I held the deflating organ in my hands.

  At least he always left the living room curtains open, no matter what he was doing. I was grateful even though it was feeding my obsession, stoking the fires of my yearning. Not to mention tearing away my ability to concentrate at work and pissing off my mates because I kept declining their social invites.

  I just couldn’t bear to miss a single moment of watching Dai’s cock in action and wishing it was mine.

  Once, last week, when he’d had company, his usual very hot company, I wondered if he’d guessed he was being watched. He’d stared straight into my darkened top-floor apartment, his eyes wide, his mouth slack, for a full five seconds before he’d crumpled forward and cum in his partner’s mouth.

  I’d orgasmed myself. Fretting my small, feebly erect clit with the tips of my fingers.

  But I was sure he couldn’t see me. Mine was the only window on this side of the building high enough for anyone to see into his. He thought he had total privacy and had told me he presumed the penthouse occupant of my block was away on a long trip. I had no intention of setting him straight about his misconception and continued to be scrupulously careful about the hours my bedroom light was on or off.

  I couldn’t risk spoiling my fun.