Delilah paced around her flat, waiting for her lover to arrive. It was with something between delicious anticipation and irritable skin crawling frustration that she surveyed the antique clock over the mantlepiece. It was a quarter past two and he wasn't due until three. He was incredibly eager, which Delilah affected to find irritating but was secretly pleased by, and so would be at least five minutes early. Still, that left her with a forty minute wait.
She had kicked off her boots at the door and strolled around the flat in stockinged feet. Delilah had been wearing stockings and suspenders and a black lacy bra all morning. They had been picked out that morning with the slight thrill of the anticipation of being peeled out of them that afternoon. All morning she had felt her sexy underwear moving beneath her conservative white blouse and black skirt.
Pacing round the flat, she paused in the bedroom in front of the full length mirror. A confident and assured businesswoman looked back at her, late thirties with long auburn hair tied in a loose plait over one shoulder.
There were those who considered Delilah a narcissist and it was certainly with a certain degree of satisfaction that she admired her reflection. She had more than her own vanity on which to base her self-satisfaction though. She had never suffered from a lack of male attention and that attention had barely diminished as the years rolled by. In fact she derived a considerable satisfaction from the ease with which she could tempt a much younger man like Ethan into her bed.
The tits helped. There was no question about that. Men were such simple creatures and there were very few who were entirely immune to breasts like hers as they filled out her cream blouse like a galleon under full sail.
Delilah put her hands to her breasts, cupping them through the fabric as she did so. She had sufficient self awareness to be lightly amused to catch her refelection unconsciously pouting back at her. Her fingers seemed to quite naturally find her buttons and she watched herself as she unhurriedly popped each one open in turn, showing ever deeper cleavage as she did.
Her breasts looked good under a tight white shirt but they looked even better nestled into her black lacy bra. She wriggled out of her blouse and put her hands to her breasts again. She watched herself in the mirror as she jiggled her tits up and down, half bored and half aroused. God she wished Ethan were here.
She looked at the clock, still only two twenty. Thirty five minutes to go.
Without really thinking about it, she unzipped her skirt and wiggled her wide hips to free herself, her boobs swaying a little as she did so.
With an arched back, one hand on her hip and the other held over her head she admired her form in the mirror, clad only in black stockings and suspenders, black lace panties and black lace bra.
Delilah was quite comfortable that she looked nothing like a twiggy fashion model. She was all curves, perhaps even a little big. She had big tits and a big arse, perhaps a little bit of a tummy and broader thighs than might be completely desirable.
But she didn't care. She looked fucking fabulous and she knew it. She undid her long auburn plait and tossed her hair back so it fell loosely around her shoulders.
Feeling decidedly horny now, she looked at the clock again, only two twenty one.
The temptation was to masturbate. If she hadn't been expecting Ethan she would certainly have given into it. There was an old leatherbacked chair nearby that she would have pulled up in front of the mirror, sat down upon, spread her legs and slipped her fingers under her dark knicker lace.
There was many the time Delilah had sat on that chair, resting her white, round bottom on its creaking dark green leather seat, as she pleasured herself. She always liked watching herself as she played, liked watching the way her chest heaved and her tits quivered, liked watching her expression change as she came.
No doubt many people would find that level of self love quite monstrous. But Delilah frankly couldn't give a fuck for whatever anybody else thought. She wasn't a lesbian, she didn't like watching other women come, but she liked dressing up and feeling hot and sexy and, if there were no one else around to appreciate her, she would appreciate herself.
But she didn't want to touch herself today. She wanted Ethan to do that for her. So she just stood in front of the mirror looking herself up and down, her leather backed chair untouched in a corner.
Her pussy felt wet and heavy underneath its black lace covering. She was almost suprised not to be able to see a dark stain spreading across her knickers as her juices flowed out of her.
Two twenty four. At least another half hour. It was intolerable, she was feeling much too horny to settle to anything else to pass the time and she wouldn't allow herself the one thing that could scratch her itch.
Half an hour was too long simply to prance round her apartment in her lingerie, every time she caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the many mirrors she would be having to slap herself to stop her fingers crawling deep inbetween her legs.
There was only one thing for it. She took one last look at her lingerie clad figure. In particular she admired her deep cleavage as her breasts nestled into the lacy black fabric of her bra.
Delilah sighed as she undid the clasp and let her bra fall to the floor, freeing her breasts. She had been looking forward to Ethan peeling her out of the lingerie and it seemed a shame to have to do it herself.
Her tits looked even bigger, free from the clinging black lace. They were not perhaps as firm as they had once been but the slight drop was no more than to be expected of natural breasts as large as hers. They still gave a satisfying bounce when she walked.
Next she tugged her black knickers over her round hips, letting them slide to the floor. She liked how she looked, naked apart from her black stockings and suspenders, the black stocking strap stark against her pale thigh. She had had half a mind to keep them on as Ethan fucked her, opening her stocking clad thighs as his thick cock slid in and out of her bushy cunt.
Some other time. She undid her garter belt and sat on the edge of her bed, rolling her stockings down over her thighs.
She gathered up her skimpy garments and placed them in the wicker washing basket. Totally nude she strolled out of the room, pausing again by the mirror to admire her figure.
Stripped of her undergarments, her fleshy voluptuousness was even more apparent. Her body curved with full vitality. Her trim waist showing off the fullness of her breasts and hips. Her auburn bush and pink nipples seemed to glow against the almost snowy whiteness of her skin. Her nipples were small but their aureoles were large round discs raised and thickened above the mound of her breasts.
