I breathe in your smell as we pass in the corridor.
You scent is dark and rich, like heavy chocolate and red wine. In the
elevator, I admire the cut of your clothes, the way your broad shoulders
fill the suit with purpose.
You let your eyes linger across my breasts, and your eyes betray your
thoughts. You think of sweat, and groans, and silken wetness in a room
filled with smoky twilight.
I eat fruit salad and think of you, my tongue swirling around pieces of
dripping watermelon, my cheeks caressing mango chunks, my teeth feeling
the pertness of small grapes. Beneath constricting pantyhose, I feel my
lips part with anticipation.
A drop of juice dribbles down my chin as a drop of juice makes contact
with my panties.
You ask me for a drink, and you drink in the sight of me, sensuous in
red silk and smiling from the corner of my mouth. Your hand rests on my
knee as you listen intently, and you move it higher after the next glass
of white wine.
I kiss you first, in the taxi on the way home. I taste malt on your lips,
from the beer, and the unmistakeable flavour of lust. I probe with my
tongue, I trail it down the left side of your tongue. I feel the warmth
of your mouth.
You reach under and grasp my buttock, filling your hand with my soft flesh,
your fingers inching into my crevice so that the tips rest against my
panties, wet now with anticipation. You rest the tip of your finger against
my anus, through the material. You kiss my neck, and enjoy the goose bumps.
I invite you in, and mischievously offer coffee. I give in easily when
you ignore me and sweep me into an extravagant embrace. I feel like a
rogue princess when you brush the straps of my dress down and burrow to
my breast. I feel my nipple harden in your mouth. I hold your head as
you feed.
You push me onto the kitchen table and push up my dress, splaying my legs
to your view. Your eyes are fiery, eager to possess and devour. Your fingers
drag my panties to the side and your tongue is wet against my wetness...
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