قصة ايروتيكية جوزيف يانج - شأن عائلى - نسخة منقحة.. ت: د. محمد عبد الحليم غنيم

Domestic
—Joseph Young

"Your lip," she said. "It's bleeding."
I nodded. "You bit me."
"I did?"
"Yep. When I put my finger in."
"Wow."
She pushed the tangled hair out of her eyes.
"Did I do it out of pain?"
"No." "Pleasure?"
"That's what's left."
"Wow," she said again.
I got up and went to the bathroom, pressed some toilet paper to the wound. When I came back, she was on her elbows, rear in the air.
"What's this?" I said.
"To say I'm sorry?" Her voice was muffled in a pillow.
"You didn't do it on purpose."
She didn't answer, and the room fell quiet, the furnace blowing. The ice in the windows shone.



I woke up and went downstairs. She was drinking tea in the kitchen.
"How's my big boy?" she said.
I kissed her forehead, the bright smell of peaches in her hair. "Okay."
"Yeah? It was just okay?"
I shrugged. "My lip was throbbing."
"Oh. As opposed to what counts."
I shrugged again.
She went to the sink and poured out the dregs of her cup. When she turned around, she was crying.
"Jesus," I said. "What?"
"Nothing."
"Come on."
She held out her arm and showed me the finger-sized bruises blooming under her skin.
"I did that?"
She nodded, still crying.
I put my arms around her; she was shivering. "In pleasure?" I said. "Or pain?"
She wouldn't answer.
"Come on. Which?" I clamped her to me. The ice in the windows shone.
​

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