The King of Fruits

By Kunal Mukherjee

     “King  of the fruits,”  that is what my mother called the mango.  “Treat him well and he will grant your wishes.”  I remembered this as I picked out two juicy, ripe specimens for dessert for a first date.

     The food was delicious.  The wine was just beginning to go to my head after lighting a fire deep in my belly.  The warm glow of sunshine the grapes had soaked in, was now spreading through my veins like fire.

     “How do you eat a mango?” he asked – curiously.   “I have never eaten a mango before.”  His full lips slanted teasingly in a half smile, belying the aloofness he had shown all evening.  I felt my heart stumble and fall to the pit of my stomach, as warmth flooded my body from my feet up.

     I showed him how I rolled the fruit between my hands, gently pressing the flesh inside – massaging and rolling, until it moaned softly from the stimulation and touch.

     I gently rolled my tongue around the hard nipple-like end where the fruit had been attached to the branch.  As we swirled our tongues in unison, we suddenly bit into the fruit, breaking the skin simultaneously as our eyes met, locked above the candle which was now beginning to waver slightly under our quickened and moist breath.

     “Suck gently at first – then harder,” I said, and we did just that.  The stimulated flesh put up a resistance at first, but it soon melted away under the insistent probing of our tongues.  The sweet nectar flowed into our mouths as our taste buds exploded with the flavor and fragrance of the aromatic fruit.

     One moment we were sucking on a mango, the next on a succulent breast – or was it a man’s well defined chest?  Our feet found each other under the table and our toes caressed the other’s – teasing and playfully as the juices rushed into our mouths and we greedily swallowed, wanting more.

     My breath had caught in my chest and my heart was beating now, erratic and wanton, going wild with anticipation as my entire body was engulfed by a sensual wave.  I could almost taste the metallic taste of blood in my mouth as my blood vessels seemed to explode.   I felt his sticky tongue probing mine, the warm fragrant breath arousing my senses yet one more time as I tasted his mango in my mouth.

     My eyes shut, I pushed the chair away.  Tongues locked, we continued to explore with our mouths.  His damp shirt clung to his well muscled torso, his nipples erect with the flush of desire and he teased me with his languid smile as I brushed his wet black hair out of his eyes……

     I knew then that we had treated the King of fruits well indeed.

This entry was posted in Kunal Mukherjee, Musings by Writing Out Loud. Bookmark the permalink.

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