Renee Zellweger calls me into her room.
"I have a surprise for you," she says.
She greets me wearing a sheer dress which dips low to the base of her breastbone and flows high on her strong, porcelain thighs. Her hair is faerie blonde, curling demurely at mid ear, framing her oval face. Blue eyes intense, ruby lips half parted, Renee slides her arms around me. She draws me toward the bed, kissing me sweetly. Her thin-fingered hands slip up my shirt to run hungrily up my chest. She sighs softly and then she opens her mouth against mine. Her breath is cool, the scent of it and the feathering of her slow exhalations three me. I crush her to me; our tongues dance, touching tips briefly in a swirl. Now we are against the side bed and Renee moves my right hand under her dress. She presses my fingers into her bare sex – for me, she's wearing no underwear. Broken from our kiss, I look into her face as I move my hand against the opening folds. Renee closers her eyes, eyelids dusted dark, and allows the slightest of moans to leave her. She squeezes my arms as I spin my finger over her clit; she stand spread-legged and nearly falling back against my supporting arm.
"Mmm . . ." Renee's mouth works mindlessly as she grinds into me.
I can't sully this with words. Renee is quivering, biting her lower lip and dipping lower and harder against my fingers. I ride her waves, twisting my hand against that moistening flesh gently. She is going to come. I see her flush face tightening. Her hands are claws on my shoulders.