A very small part of an entirely different, bigger thing. Extracting and posting this little snippet was inspired by this story by @19syllables
...we were sitting at a table on the small terrace, shaded from the late afternoon sun by the olive and pine trees, the softened light dappled on the weathered wood of the table, your white shirt and your skin.
I took a fig from the blue and white ceramic bowl, just soft enough, purple-black; carefully loosened the stalk with my fingers and broke it open. Raggedy ripe, dark red flesh full of sweet stickiness clinging to the seeds. ''Eat it out,'' I said, passing it across the table. You looked startled by my choice of words, and maybe more so by the movement of my leg under the table, stretching out, my bare foot pressed against your inner thigh, sliding further up to your groin. ''No teeth,'' I added, laughing. You picked the fruit up, carefully, like a challenge, brought it to your face, inhaled the scent, a deep breath and a long exhale turning into a sigh, a moan almost, your thin lips touching the untidy pale edges, your mouth opening, your tongue appearing in a quick flash to plunge into the ripeness, then coming back out covered in the sticky seeds. Repeated licks, long, slow, obscene, your eyes locked on mine, your cock hot and hard through the fabric, straining against my sole, my cunt getting more flushed, wetter and hotter as I watched you, as if you were eating out of me and not the fruit, as if there was no difference.