Zhen Zhen- "2nd Wife"

"The Five Wives of the Insatiable Thomas Sutton"

 

I'd like to thank Kasten for taking the time to guest blog for me today.  She is a talented writer, and I think you will all enjoy her entry. 

You can find the Prologue here: http://lpate85.blogspot.com/2012/12/the-five-wives-of-insatiable-thomas.html

Sheila's "1st Wife" Entry is here: http://lpate85.blogspot.com/2012/12/sheila-first-wife.html

Leave your loving comments below, we love that!

 

Ilka Kasten H. is a 3 point virgin: Virgin tweep, virgin blogger, virgin writer. Popped her cherry all in the same week and She is loving it. Please follow her a: www.girlnamedlime.blog.com

 

Zhen Zhen "The 2nd Wife"

 

 

 

 

 

I like to think I’m special. He always tells me I am when I sit on his lap and he strokes my long raven hair. You see, he picked me. He said it was my eyes, he tells me they were different from the others. I know he lies, and that is why I love him.

            He lays with me on Thursdays, but that is all we do, he lies beside me and strokes my hair.

I ask him again, “How did you pick me out?”

He replies with the same answer, “You’re special, I knew it. Your eyes tell a different story than the others, and when you are ready to tell me that story, I will be here to listen.”

I had other sisters before these new sisters. My old sisters, we all held the same expression in our slated eyes. These new sisters, no, they hold almost too many expressions.

I ask him, “What story did you see in me?”

My head is on his lap as he replies stroking my hair, “A story of sisters.”

I think about that.

Next Thursday comes and I lie on top of him with my hair playfully on his face. He breathes in the smell of the jasmine oil I put in it for him.

“What story about my sisters?”

He doesn’t move my hair from his face when he softly says my name, “ZhenZhen,” warmth floods my cheeks, “How can I tell a story that is not mine?”

I watch my sisters, maybe they have the story I need to tell. I watch them on their nights with my love. I watch the things they do. I watch the things he does to them. I watch the things they do to each other.

Thursday comes again and I am excited, I jump on him when he enters my room and he catches me like a falling bird.

His eyes twinkle as he laughs, “What is it my jasmine flower?”

I smile, jump down from his arms and take him to the chair and sit him down, “I have a story to tell you.”

I tell him what I’ve seen in my words. I tell him how the candle light makes my sister’s breasts look soft as he kisses her neck. I tell him how the noise of the whip carries through the house. I tell him which way my sisters kiss each other to pleasure one another. I tell him everything.

Then I watch him.

I watch him as he unbuttons his shirt. I watch him as he unzips his pants. I watch him as he takes off his boxers and sits back down in the chair.

He holds himself in his hand, “Tell me again.”