Companion To Paris
Gila

The sort of madness in Parisian minds is really torturous. This girl is in a dilemma. I want to, but I also feel scared. Paris gulped while opening her eyes. His gaze continued to lead to the moss-green towel wrapped around that waist.

Meanwhile Biema was watching this girl's expression from earlier. He knew Paris was holding back. Suddenly the towel sagged making Paris widen his eyes and hold his breath seeing the incident. But with a swift hand Biema caught him. The towel did not sag and show all.

Cih, decih Paris in the heart. This is between disappointment and shame because it had shown the look of his wanted face. This girl chose to turn around and concoct chocolate milk for Biema.

Don't know, don't know, Paris's rapping in the heart. His head was shaking in frustration. She, caught up in her own thoughts, tries to distract herself by completing her task of making chocolate milk for her husband. Although he actually also regretted that the towel was not so sagging.

Biema approaching. Just getting closer without hugging. But the masculine aroma of Biema's body was already smelled. Until Paris remembered that hot night. His body brushed for a moment.

"Not finished?" biema asked with a hoarse voice near the ear. Paris gasped again. Although this man did not hug his body, but Paris felt Biema's innocent body from their skin touching at a glance.

"Not yet" said Paris. Nervous. Biema has done nothing. He simply glued his plain skin over the skin of Paris' arm at a glance. To make the girl can feel the curves of the sturdy and muscular body of this man.

I-i can. I can!

"Why long?" biema asked teasingly.

"No. Not long. B-just a second." The heart of Paris thumped when it got the temptation of Biema. This man reached out his hand touching the basin between the Head and the shoulders. Then kiss it there. Biema paid no heed to rejection. Paris tries to refrain from the pleasures it offers.

"Ohhh. Stop Biema ...," rejected Paris with annoyance because the concentration was scrapped. He who began to be able to control himself, now back nervous because Biema back closer his body even doing other things.

In a fit of annoyance Paris immediately turned her body swiftly to face Biema. He wanted to dispel Biema's questions and protest with Biema's treatment. His task of concocting drinks became slow as well because the man bare-chested showed off his upper body.

Paris only realized that this man actually brought his body closer when he managed to twist his body. Now that they were facing each other, this girl could feel the bulge behind the towel. Paris widened her eyes looking down her stomach. Then he looked up to see Biema. Those eyes turned out to be foggy while looking at him fixedly. More burning than the first look.

Paris fell silent.

"You can't help it, can you?" ask Paris Iba. He who will protest because Biema continues to make him nervous is now turned into pity. Biema's lips smiled wryly. As if to agree, but also a dilemma.

Paris took a breath. Biema's eyeballs lowered down. The girl started to move her fingers. Walk slowly over Biema's skin. From below the shoulder to the chest of the field. "Wouldn't it hurt to do it again?" asked Paris innocently.

"I don't understand about that. I want to, but I'm afraid, too" Biema said. Biema's hand touched Paris's waist.

"What if ... I want to, but I'm afraid?" Biema widened her bead of shocked eyes upon hearing this girl's confession. Especially when the Parisian finger began to descend through the six pack abdominal muscles. His breath is stifled by what Paris is doing now. Biema was about to answer which actually became a stifled moan because the fingers of this girl began to come down and pass the towel line and play her finger there.

"Armgh!" a scrumptious groan slid from Biema's lips. The atmosphere of shahdu was created. Biema immediately grabbed the back of Paris' head and buried her kiss on the lips of this girl.

The afternoon began to change. Darkness also slowly covered the sky with its cloudiness that suddenly came. The slowly falling rain spots add aesthetics to the earth. Two human children who now truly feel love, are playing with their passion.

They were still in the pantry when they did. Paris' body was still sitting on the pantry table while Biema stood up while hugging him.

"I'm ... tired ...," shrewd Paris in Biema's arms. His sentence was cut into pieces because his body was hollow. Unlike this man who is still stamina despite having done it for several hours. Biema kissed his wife's head in love.

"sorry. I'd better take you to the room. You can be free to rest there" Biema said. Paris simply nodded without being able to speak anymore. His body could do nothing more. Biema understands.

Biema breaks Paris's body on her bed. Then he took his underwear in a Parisian room for his wife to wear. After enveloping Paris' body, Biema returned to the pantry. He put his wife's clothes on the floor. She smelled the chocolate that was cold for her.

The sound of the cell phone ringing. The name Fikar appeared there.

"Hello, what's wrong?" ask Biema without a stale base.

"Mela's going to your apartment."

"Now?" biema asked in surprise.

"Yes." Yeah."

"Why is he still here?" tanya Biema disagreed.

"I don't know."

"What business in the office is not done yet?" tanya Biema riled. Right now he doesn't want to see anyone. He just wanted to clean up the mess in the pantry and then clean up. He then returned to his room to accompany his exhausted wife.

"Done. He just wanted to thank you maybe. Or any other stale base."

"No. I'm not taking guests now."

"But Biem ...." There was a noise on Fikar's phone. I don't know what's in there.

"I was in front of your apartment building, Biem," said Mela replacing Fikar's voice. Biema was surprised because of that all of a sudden. This had made Biema not sure that it was Fika's phone. He needs to keep the phone away from the ear for a while then stare at the phone screen. Convince yourself that it's Fikar's contact number. Apparently true. Biema brought the phone closer to her ear.

"What's Mela?"

"I'm going upstairs now" Mela said, not answering Biema's question.