Well. When I promised him I would keep my naughty roving hands to myself, I did not expect him to pull a tie out of his suitcase and *make sure*.
But here I am, with my wrists bound in his tie behind my back, pressed against the wall of his hotel room, as he lightly strokes a finger along my collarbone, and down into the neckline of my dress.
It's different--I think that I'm typically the aggressor in our encounters. The role reversal is *hot*. Letting him set the pace, giving up control and trusting him, is far more exciting than I would have imagined.
His beard tickles against my skin as he kisses and licks his way up my throat, and my fingers flex uselessly behind me with the desire to stroke his chest, feel his shoulders, anything. When his mouth finally finds mine, I actually moan, and I feel him smirk for a moment against my lips. His hands are sliding up my back, seeking the zipper of my dress. Slowly, slowly, he unzips me, tugging the top of the dress down to my waist. I'm not wearing a bra, and my nipples are already noticeably erect. He shifts back a bit, so he can watch as he palms each breast, stroking the tips, making me inhale sharply.
"It's very fortunate for you that I was wearing a strapless dress on the day you chose to play this little game, isn't it?" I ask him.
"'Fortune favors the prepared mind,'" he quotes back immediately, as he leans in and attaches his mouth to one nipple. The zings of pleasure that accompany every lick, bite, and suck are pulsing between my legs as well, and I nearly lose my balance as he alternates between my tits. One arm wraps around my waist, and it's the only thing keeping me upright as his other hand plays with the nipple not occupying his mouth. I'm biting back little moans of pleasure, and pressing my legs together to try and satisfy my increasing desire for touch.
Finally, he pulls away, to push the dress the rest of the way down to the floor.
"Holy shit," he says, his eyes lighting up as he discovers the lacy panties and thigh high stockings that have been hiding under the dress. He runs his hand over his beard, the way he does when he's thinking, as he stares. I wait. Then, he nods, to himself apparently, and traces his hands along my bare skin as he kneels down in front of me. I shiver. He's eye-level with my pussy as he slowly peels my panties down, watching with an intensity that almost borders on reverence. When he has fully exposed the neatly trimmed patch of hair there, he pauses briefly and I swear he inhales. I wonder if he can smell how aroused I am. He pulls the panties the rest of the way down, and I step out of them and kick them away.
