IF A PICTURE PAINTS A THOUSAND WORDS #12--LITA
A Sailor Moon Sekkushiraru Roman, Based on a Story in Lunatic Party #5

by Sailor Mac
	My next-door neighbor made me an apron.
	Old Mrs. Takanara is a sweet little old lady who really means well. It's
just that she doesn't know me at all. Last Christmas, she gave me a pair of
huge, fuzzy pink slippers that I wouldn't be caught dead in. And for my
last birthday, she gave me, of all things, a Barbie doll. "All young girls
love Barbie," she said.
	Not *this* young girl. I never owned a Barbie even when I was a kid! I was
too busy playing sports and learning to cook.
	This time, she came a little closer to the ballpark. . .she's finally
figured out what my hobby (hell, my *life*) is. But the apron. . .it's just
no good at all.
	I need a big, sturdy thing that will cover most of my clothes. When I get
into a serious groove, food can go flying everywhere, and it can end up on
my skirt, my blouse. . .even in my hair.
	This thing. . .it barely grazes the top of my thighs. It's made of a soft,
flimsy pink cloth that does *not* look at all stain-resistant. It doesn't
even cover my entire chest. . .most of my bust is hanging over the top. And
I could *really* have done without the two little bows where the neck strap
joins the bodice. . .or the ruffles at the bottom.
	I toss it over a chair with a sigh. I can't use this at all. Oh, well. .
.time to drag out the threadbare old one and get to work. Ken will be here
any minute, and I'm late getting dinner started (when Mrs. Takanara starts
talking, she goes on and on and on and. . .)
	I let out another small sigh as I get out my pots and pans. I wanted to
put together a really romantic evening for us, with flowers, candles,
incense, special music. . .but I just haven't had the *time.* It's been so
long since I've been able to do something *really* special for him, and I
kinda feel bad about that. It's not easy juggling running your own
household, going to school and being a Sailor Soldier. . .
	If only I even had a nice, sexy nighty or set of underwear he hasn't seen
before, something revealing and lacy, something like. . .
	My eyes slowly travel back to the discarded apron.
	Something. . .like. . .that.
	I grab it and run to my bedroom. I take off all my clothes, put on a pair
of lacy pink bikini panties, and tie the apron over them. I study the
effect in the mirror. . .
	Oh, WOW. It's perfect! It covers up just enough to be *really* sexy. And
it gives me the opportunity to turn the fact that I'll still be cooking
when he comes in into a love game.
	I head back to the kitchen and go back to work, humming to myself.
Suddenly, the coming evening looks a *whole* lot better. . .
	I hear him knock on the door a few minutes later. When I answer it, ladle
in my hand, I see his eyes nearly pop out of his head.
	"Hi, honey," I say. "Dinner will be ready in a few minutes. . ."
	"Lita. . .you look. . .*incredible!*"
	"Oh, this? It's just an apron." I lean over and kiss him. . .and he starts
to pull me into a passionate embrace right away. I slowly back off. . .I
want to make this last.
	"Have a seat while I finish," I say. "I'll be in the kitchen if you need
anything. Oh, and don't eat what's in the box on the coffee table. .
.that's for dessert." (Although I have a feeling we'll be having "dessert"
before the main course tonight. . .)
	I resume cooking, but it's hard to concentrate on what I'm doing. I can
feel his eyes burning into me. My heart is pounding, and my head is full of
images of what we're going to be doing in a few minutes. . .
	I hear him sneaking up behind me. I pretend not to notice. When I feel his
lips on my neck, his hands on my bottom, I have to bite my lip to stifle a
moan.
	Gods, he can ignite such a fire in my blood with just a look, just a
touch. Sometimes, it's hard to believe this is the same boy I used to play
basketball with, catch bugs with, play countless rounds of Super Mario
Bros. with. . .
	But now, that boy is a man. *All* man. *My* man.
	He's squeezing my bottom now, and his tongue is in my ear. My heart is
pounding. Have to keep the game going just a little bit longer. . .
	I say with mock-sternness, "Ken! Didn't I tell you. . .no dessert before
dinner?"
	He slides his hands up my body, slowly, lusciously, while whispering in my
ear, "This isn't dessert, love. . .this is an appetizer."  And then he
pushes my top down. . .just enough for my nipples to poke over the top.
When I feel his fingers brushing them, I know I can't keep that steely
self-control any longer. I manage to whisper, "Well, since you put it that
way. . ." And then, I surrender to the sensation.
	He's rubbing my nipples with his index fingers, and it's so good, so good.
. .Every cell in my body seems to be pulsing with warm, tingling feelings,
and I can feel the heat and dampness rising between my thighs. . .This
time, I make no effort to stifle my moans.
	He moves back downward, running his fingers over my torso, back around to
my bottom. . .He squeezes a couple of times, and then I feel him slipping
under the elastic of my panties. When he touches my womanhood, slowly
rubbing back and forth across my entrance, I feel like screaming. Oh, Gods,
yes, it's so delicious. . .I feel myself moving backward against him. . .
	He's sliding my panties down now. . .but I don't want to come, not yet. . .
	"How about we do something else instead for now?" I whisper. And I pull my
panties back up, turn around, and kiss him passionately, letting my tongue
flicker in and out of his mouth. I break from him just long enough to yank
his shirt up and over his head, then resume kissing him, taking his nipples
between my thumbs and forefingers and gently squeezing, thrilling at the
deep growl he makes in his throat.
	I sink to my knees, unsnapping and unzipping his pants and pushing them
down and off. He's fully, magnificently erect. . .I take it in both hands,
letting my fingers slide up and down it, then lean over and draw it into my
mouth. He gives a deep groan. I pull it out and lightly lick the tip, then
look up at him and ask, "Do you like this?"
	"Oh, Gods, baby, yes. . .it's terrific. . .more, please, I need more. . ."
	I slip him back in my mouth and begin sucking, moving my head back and
forth. . .He strokes my hair, moaning my name over and over. Gently, I
reach out and caress the sac under his manhood, and he lets out a long,
strangled cry. It's sweet music to my ears.
	I feel him ease away from me, slowly. . .he wants to make the pleasure
last, too. He kneels beside me and draws me into his embrace, and we kiss
fiercely. He eases me back into a lying position, and strokes my womanhood
through my panties with his thumb. When I feel it caress my jewel, a hot
shudder runs through me.
	"Now," I moan. "Now. . .take off my panties, please. . ."
	He slides them down and off, and the next thing I feel is two of his
fingers thrusting deep inside me. "OHHH! Yes. . .oh, baby, that's so good,
keep doing it. . ."
	"I love you, Lita," he says.
	"I love you, too. . .oh baby. . .I love you so much. . ."
	He takes his fingers out of me, reaches up and undoes the snap on my neck
strap, and pushes the apron to my waist. He bends over and I feel his
tongue lapping at one of my nipples before he draws it in and begins to
suck. I moan loudly, tangling my fingers in his hair.
	Now, I'm ready, I want fulfillment, I want to come, I want to be one with
him. . .
	"Do you have something?" I whisper hoarsely.
	"Always," he says. "I'm always ready to love you." He reaches for his
pants, pulls something out of his wallet. . .I hear the tearing of the
foil, and my whole body is trembling with anticipation.
	The first thrust nearly touches off a climax. . .and as he starts to move
in and out, the electric heat in my body swells and swells and. .
.Suddenly, my last shred of resistance breaks, and I let out a shriek as
I'm flooded with fiery pleasure. I go limp for a moment, dazed, feeling his
lips on my face, his hands stroking my breasts. . .
	Oh, Gods, I want more. I start pumping my hips rapidly, and he starts
matching my thrusts with his own. Both of us moan and moan, wanting nothing
but sweet, sweetrelease. . .
	"AAAHH!! OH, KEN! YES!" I shout as a second explosion of liquid joy rips
through me, and I hear him answer my cry with one of his own.
	He falls down next to me, and we kiss softly. "Gods, Lita," he whispers,
"that was *amazing.* Just *amazing.*"
	I chuckle quietly. "I'm going to have to thank old Mrs. Takanara," I say.
	"Who?"
	"Just. . .a friend."
	A friend, I thought, who I hope *never* learns to make a functional apron. . .

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The original doujinshi story I based this on is rather
interesting. . .it's drawn entirely from the man's point of view. You never
see the guy she's making love to, or know who he is. . .it could be Ken,
Andrew or anyone else you wanted it to be. Certainly one of the most
original Lunatic Party pieces I've come across. . .

Standard Sailor Moon disclaimers apply. These characters ain't mine, I'm
just borrowing them for a little while.