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The Mafia Monk By Lady Prim Characters: 8662

Updated: 2019-01-10 22:26

Zinnia Point of View

"Mr. Monk, are you sure this is right?" I asked when he started kissing my stomach. Why is he kissing me so much when we need to cuddle to make love?

Does he even know what making love is?

"Shush!" He hushed me and continued kissing my naked body. His kisses started from the highway of the neck, traveled through a valley between two mountains then reached the flat land of stomach, now moving towards the rocky area of ... ahem...

Well just a rocky area with a... ahem... with a reservoir.

I feel Goosebumps all over my body and heart is pounding in my chest like chunky chasing with knife. I was intentionally fisting the bed sheets not knowing why I was doing that and Mr. Husband is adamant to research what my skin taste like.

Uh, I bathed with a banana body soap so it might taste like a little like banana but since there also a little sweat on my body due to a weird nervous feeling I am feeling, I don't think the combination of banana and sweat tastes good.

What is he finds my skin not suitable for his taste buds?

But Mr. Husband is not allowing me to talk or allowing me to move. He has a good grip on my body then how would I be able to know if I'm fitting his taste buds or not?

Not knowing what to do, I stretching my hand towards the small packet I found on the night stand and tried to get hold on it. Mr. Husband is quiet busy with taste testing the rocky part of my body.

Eww, how can he even put his nose there? Doesn't it stink there? I mean I understand he loves me so much but sniffing and tasting me there is too much love to bear. By the way, what is he exactly scooping down there? It's not like there is ice cream coming out from my... ahem.

After a lot of trying, I caught hold of the small sachet. Immediately, not wanting my husband to torture himself with a strange taste of my body, I opened the sachet with my teeth and squeezed the content on my... rocky private area where he was drinking heaven knows what.

"What the..." He rasped out and raised his head looking at me great wall of china confusion.

"Now you don't have to worry about my skin taste. Add suitable amount of the ketchup and here –" I handed him the sachet of ketchup and another packet of liquid chocolate so he can added it however he likes. "- you can add this too."

Why do I suddenly feel proud of myself?!

Doing something great for others is one thing but you cannot compare it with the satisfaction when you help your husband overcome smallest of the smallest things. You feel like you won the world.

That is how I am feel

day and night. It might as well hurt his throat.

Poor Husband... can he be anymore cute?!

"Okay I will give you time to pick out from many, so I will start since there is not much to think about you." I clapped and he looked at me in disbelief.

Okay, what Mr. Monk to me?

What attracts me to him?


"I love you because you are my Monk and you have a very innocent face. I like how you try to scare people by widening your eyes at them; at that time, you look like a small kid whose toy is taken away. I love you because you did not ever lost hope on life. Life did not give you a piece of land to stay but you did not get discouraged as you took over a sea and made a house. You are a part time mafia who kill bad people and protect good people like you. And I love you because you are not just handsome from outside but also have a great heart. Oh, I forgot to tell, you also have a great skin. I want to know what dermatologist you visit." I stripped out my heart content to him and hugged him tightly. He looked at me with eyes that showed he cannot do anything right now. Weird!

Though we are naked, our naked love for each other cannot be hindered by our physical lack.

I cannot get a husband as good as Mr. Monk nor can he get a wife better than me. We are a pair of platinum pencil and eraser who help each other to create and destroy.

Wow, I think I need to try poetry. These days, after meeting Mr. Monk, I was getting good at analogies and poetry. Should I attend a national poetry summit that will be held every year?

But, let's see what Mr. Monk compliments me and if he does good then we can both enter the summit like under a combo name.

Yay! I will be poetess.


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