Blac Sil Dress with Leopard Trim

With Donna Summer's "Hot Stuff" playing over the sound system, Diane, in black silk dress, slithers down the runway, cat-like, as if ready to wind herself around a lover's legs.

The man she has stalked out from a yoga class and captured--her prey for a long evening of lovemaking--is a man of natural instincts, a leader among men, a man who loves a challenge, a man who spots leopard trim on a black dress and knows what he will find underneath...when he has her in his lair. She has the wanting...and he has the look...the power...the grace...the attentiveness.

The dinner at his house is not his first act of seduction. But it is the most intimate one so far. Their last time together just ended with a kiss...a touch...and the look.

Now, after the two of them finish the elegant dinner he has made for her, he gives her more than the look. He slides his hand along her shoulder, down her arm, and he motions her into his living room. Seated on the couch, he has her close her eyes. He slips on her a black pearl necklace. Her eyes open with her wanting. As they kiss, he slips off of her shoulders the straps of the dress that first caught his attention, and she shudders.

Now coiled up together on the black leather couch, he surges into his power, and he is ready to pounce: He reaches underneath her black slip and strips off what he knew he would find--the leopard print panties. Without even touching her there, he knows she has moistened, and he feels himself surge more fully in delight.

He begins to make love to this leopardress. Her slip is pulled down so he can lick with cat-like strokes her nipples. The slip is pulled up so he can bury his face between her legs and kiss her down there. Her hands hold his head there in her clasp, ready to direct a tongue that needs no direction.

Quickly, furtively, she frees herself of all her clothes. She's naked, but she wants to feel nude. She arches back and lets her hands course over her body....she strums her nipples into their full tautness...and she coyly shields herself for a moment as spreads her legs open to his look. His eyes remain locked onto hers.

She parts her lips and wets them with her tongue. He smiles. She removes her hand. His eyes do not leave hers. She begins to play with herself. His sight does not bend. She plays more, puddling herself, as they sustain their stare. He folds first, as his eyes must rove and fasten on her sex.

She surrenders to his pleasuring, her hands now clasped behind her own head, her lower body rocking as if doing aerobics, her breathing getting harder and deeper, now quicker and shallower, now panting, all moistened up, her hips on ball bearings, his tongue doing it to her faster and quicker...in and out...up and down....charging her up....all over...extreme heat and high humidity, soaking wet....and then bliss and more bliss...the flashes of lightning....the surges...the flow of energy...as if honey is filling up combs all inside of her....the thrill of being taken....the love of being joined....the wonder of being treasured...the cooling rain....and then the desire to give more....to get him up again....to straddle him on top...fitting together perfectly, joyously....to be arched again in his arms...a double rainbow lit by the sun.

Recovering, Diane stands up before her lover, who wears on his face the little silly grin of a confident and wise man, a man who knows how to give, a man who knows what he will get in return, a man who has been here many times before, a man whom Diane needs to surprise.

Diane kisses his lips, and says thank you, and says for her lover to wait right there. She gathers up her clothes and puts them back on. The lover loses the grin on his face.

She turns her back on him, smoothing the dress slowly along her backside, and she puts on a man's dark hat She then goes over to the CD collection, and puts on a song with a heart pounding beat, a song you can dance to, a song you can strip to--Joe Cocker's "You Can Leave Your Hat On"--a song she begins dancing to, in front of him.

The grin returns, and never leaves as Diane strips for him, strutting her stuff, giving him a sexy fashion show, and then some burlesque, and the straight XXX: the leopardress in heat, turning herself on, nude except for her black pearls.

For every piece of clothing she takes off, the lover has to take off one himself, the two of them teasing each other, and the lover lying back on the couch, his bottom on the edge of the seat, his cock thrust straight up, as Diane gets closer and closer, dancing now between his legs, gyrating now above him, now slowing down just to pleasure herself right over his manhood, making herself softer and wetter and more open, doing all that wonderful work for him, so he can be for the moment wonderfully lazy, just sitting back and enjoying, just watching, just waiting, just going crazy with desire, with the song, the dance going on forever and ever until he can take it no more. He thrusts upwards, off the seat, the arrow searching for the target, wildly.

Diane, as if surprised by the power of this shot, retreats a bit, and then repositions herself. The huntress wants this archer as badly as he wants her. She gives him a target he can not miss, and he thrusts up inside of her, gloriously, making them gasp.

She then settles down on him, burying herself to the hilt, and then....she begins fucking and fucking him, fucking him for fun, fucking him to show off how well she can fuck, fucking him to find out how long he can fuck, fucking him for the joy of fucking--bouncing up and down, sometimes slow, sometimes fast, cupping her bosoms and letting them fall and bounce before his eyes, his tongue, slowing down and offering each one to him so he can kiss and nibble them, stopping so she can caress his cock with her love muscles and fondle his ballswhile she does so, giving his balls the lingering attention, the cuddling, that he is giving to her nipples, then pivoting on his cock, and starting up again, bouncing, now showing off her firm, shapely bottom, wiggling it around for him, giving him a show, making him forget any other cute bottom he has seen in aerobics class, making him forget everything else but holding back.

She looks back around her shoulder at his face, like a jockey out in the lead, on his stallion, rounding the 3/4 pole, pacing herself, and she sees the smile on his face: she picks up the pace and watches until the smile turns more to a grimace, and then she slows back down and begins playing with herself, getting herself ready for the homestretch, for the full gallop.

He reaches around her and removes her hand, replacing it with his own, the fingers in the right spots, not minding at all that her light touch is now giving way to his forceful insistence. Yes, he knows where the spot is. Yes, he knows what he's doing. Yes, it's just what she desires. Yes, it's beautiful. Yes, it's amazing, fucking amazing.

"Yes, yes, yes," she blurts out, as he takes her up higher and higher. She then arches herself backwards, falling into his arms, and whispers something in his ear about loving what he's doing, about loving this moment together, about wanting to love him more.

He frees both of his hands and clasps them around each bosom, feeling up her heart, and he pulls her tightly back into him, hugging her tightly,and then her begins thrusting into her, fast, rapidly, driving his cock back into her,each thrust bringing her closer to him, her head thrust back, her neck stretched out fully for his kisses, his tonguing, the thrusts and the pleasure of the thrusts shaking her up, like somehard body Ram Sport pick-up truck going too fast over a bumpy road, the shock absorbers tested to their limits, and then the truck speeding up a sand dune, fast, much too fast, and then hurtling up and over the dune into the air--but never coming down, the truck now transformed, as in a dream, into a magic carpet, soaring and swirling in the thermals, gusts of breezes taking it here and there, over meadows, through tunnels into the light, from waterfall to waterfall, rushing through the white water, falling deep into pools that come alive with light and life, a dive below into a Caribbean coral reef, a sea of blues and greens, the sea anenomes waving and fluttering like a pussy contracting in pleasure, then another little thrust, another twist, another turn, another surge, lifting her out of the water, a power boat lifting someone up on waterskis, then out of the water again, parasailing, gliding, and finally floating back down, a feather losing its way in a soft breeze.