She was never subtle. When my little cock slave wanted me, she wanted me. Her hands always worked their magic, running her long fingers over my skin before they finally landed right where I wanted them. Her hands always landing on the growing bulge in my pants.
It seemed like we could never get through an hour-long TV show without her interest being sparked some way, somehow. I'm not saying I didn't mind. In fact it made me want her even more. Each time I think I have her satisfied she comes to me for even more.
Right now, she's nibbling on my ear, with her hands up my shirt. I tug on her collar roughly and pull her lips to mine, the show we were watching long forgotten. In one swift movement, my beautiful Slave moves to straddle my hips, never breaking the kiss and entangling her hands in my hair. Each time she pulls, even slightly, the smallest moan escapes my lips.
My hands wander restlessly from her ass, up her back, and to her perfect tits. Whenever my hands find the perfect spot, I feel her breath hitch in the most delicious way.
Suddenly our clothes feel too restricted, pointless. I slide my shirt over my head and kiss my slave deeply before slowly taking her shirt off. Leaning back on the couch, I watch her take her bra off with a lustful look in her eyes, one I've seen so many times before but one that never gets old. It's at that moment that I truly noticed how good her new white collar looks on her.