Last night I was in Armitage World Chat and a picture was brought up that had me making a confession. I’d briefly thought about writing a small fic inspired by that very pic. The girls encouraged me to go for it and this morning I decided to type it up. Before proceeding further. Be forwarded: this story might not be your cup of tea. It has leanings of a sexual nature–although it might not be what you think. If you don’t like such things, pass on by.
If Only For A Moment
I sat there waiting. Would it hurt? Would I enjoy it? Would it be worth it? Finally I heard the introductions and moments later my new owner was sitting right in front of me. Luck was with me, I had been given to the most handsome man at the table. The stage was so hot. All of those lights beating down to illuminate the panel. I knew he’d need me soon, it was inevitable. From my vantage I could even make out the slightest sheen of sweat on his brow.
The director was talking and my owner was looking at him with rapt attention. Oh how I wanted him to look at me that way, if just for a moment. I wasn’t paying attention to what the director said or anyone else for that matter. My thoughts were firmly planted on the lips of my master. That cupid’s bow of his upper lip, enticed me. And the beard, I couldn’t wait to find out how it would feel against me. Would it scratch and scuff me? Would its abrasiveness tickle? I just wanted him to need me!
Finally it happened. I saw his Adam’s apple bob. Mere moments later, his hands were coming towards me. Ah, the feelings evoked by having those long fingers encompass me.
Swiftly he removed my top and lifted me. It seemed like an eternity, that oh so quick trip, as I drew ever nearer to his parted lips. The wait had been worth it.
His lips gently brushed my opening and I felt my fluids spill from me. Those lips, they were everything I’d hoped they would be from the moment he sat before me—soft, yet somehow firm at the same time, with just the right amount of pressure. The course hairs of his beard only served to heighten the pleasure of the moment. And then, something soft brushed my rim. Was that his tongue? I suppose he needed to capture even the slightest drop of escaping moisture. This was heaven.
Sated, he returned me to my place on the table. Just as quickly as it had started, the moment was over. Filled with a sense of clarity, I now fully understood the purpose for which I had been made.
The life of a water bottle may not be long, but I lived mine to the fullest.
Because I can’t resist visual aids:
Thanks to Warner Bros, RANet, and HeathRA for the images.