I am amused and delighted that even in the heat of discovery he hasn’t forgotten the secret fantasies we shared with one another in furtive type. I’m impressed by his attention to detail.
He watches me– rubbing his chin thoughtfully as I wriggle into the bright red bustier, pushing my breasts up and together at an angle that looks fairly obscene. I try to suppress my incredulous expression and lean across the bed, reaching for the tiny scarlet bikini.
“On second thought, leave the panties off.”
He takes another sip of bourbon and sets it down, reaching back into the shopping bag on the floor, producing a pair of black thigh-high stockings and ridiculously high black patent leather stilettos with delicate ankle straps.
Perched on the edge of the bed, I slide the silk over my legs, enjoying the silent appraisal of his gaze as I bend to buckle the straps of the heels, my swelling bosom tipped forward provocatively.
“Now, give us a turn. Let’s see how pretty you are.”
I wobble a bit—but give a small twirl—blushing at the naked exposure in between the swathes of shiny red across my top half and my legs covered in sheer black hosiery.
The skimpy articles seem to accentuate the bare flesh of my most intimate parts. Against this frame of satin and silk my sex becomes a lush exhibit for his private viewing. I feel his eyes on my ass. Burning hot. My nipples stiffen against the tight, silky fabric.
He leans back in the chair, stretching his arms and folding them behind his head, obviously pleased with his selections.
I turn toward the full-length mirror on the back of the door and hardly recognize myself. I look like a working girl. I shudder at the implication, then let it dissolve.
“Now, on all fours– that’s a good girl.”
I feel the rush of my excitement growing by the moment as I sink my hands into the plush carpeted floor and look up at him—waiting for his next command.
“Crawl to me slowly. “
I pull myself along, one limb at a time, carefully—the sheer stockings are slippery and I fight to stay balanced with the heavy stripper shoes dragging behind me. He parts his thighs on my advance and I can easily see from this perspective, his hardness straining against the cool, grey linen of his shorts.
“Look at me,” he directs.
I feel the first run in the knee of my stocking…but I don’t bother to look down. My eyes are fixated on the swelling between his legs.
“I know what you want…and you’ll have it soon enough.”
I am fairly shaking with the desire to touch my own wetness but I don’t dare. I feel my chest and face growing hotter with every inch toward him. My engorgement throbs with every heartbeat.
He unzips and brandishes his erection—gleaming and swollen with arousal. He moves to the edge of the chair, looming over me. Bringing his face to mine.
I pause between his broad, muscled thighs, waiting for his next move, feeling his quickened breath in my face.
“Open your mouth.”
I move to obey. Eyes lowered, lips parted wide.
He grabs a fistful of hair and holds my head back firmly.
“Let’s see that tongue.”
To be continued…