I'm waiting for you, lying on a bed in a darkened room. A flame burns from a well placed candle, the scent of vanilla hanging in the air. You walk in, lay beside me.
My clothing selection is a low cut hoity-toity teal cashmere cardigan and tight black pencil skirt, complete with shiny patent black heeled boots that tie up several inches above my ankle.
Seeing me playfully biting my lip you got the message I am anxious to be touched and decided to give in a little. You begin pressing down on the top button of my sweater until it sinks between my cleavage and rests upon my breastbone. You hold it there fondling the button with your middle finger, carefully trying not to touch my skin until the soft moans that escaped my lips were cut by quickened breaths. Satisfied by my reaction, you toil to undo the buttons and push the sweater aside.
You find me in an unlined lace corselet, my nipples standing erect with excitement. You entice me with the warmth of your breath while grazing your bottom lip against my nipple. My back arches feeling the moist heat, trying to bring my breast closer to your mouth for greater affection. You breathe in my perfume, an unfamiliar scent, slightly spicy not floral, utterly intoxicating.
As a tool to tease me, you use a button from the sweater to lightly circle my areola, watching my nipple harden. The abrasion of the lace and button against the tip makes me moan out load and grind my hips into the bed. My reaction pleases you and you do it again, this time harder.
I gasp and reach out to touch you, grabbing your shirt. You stop playing with me and bring my hand back to my side. Lightly you stroke the back of my hand with your finger tips, running them up my arm.
Your attention turns to my abdomen; my curves are accentuated by the corselet's inlaid lace panels. A dainty band stretches around the middle of my waist, adorned with a bow.
Obscured by the top of the skirt, you are curious to see how far down the garment goes and slide your hand under it to find out. You can feel it ends abruptly where the hips turn into the upper thigh and then you touch the unmistakable feeling of garter clips attached to stockings. Watching my lip quiver and chest heave responding to your touch, you get off the bed and remove your clothing.
Naked, you stand at the foot of the bed, grabbing the heels of my boots and spread my legs wide. I bend my knees and sink my heels into the bed, spreading them farther. Now nestled between my thighs, you rest the palms of your hands on my knees, squeezing and releasing my flesh with your fingers, moving very slowly, massaging up my legs until you reach the hem of the skirt.
Eagerly I lift my hips and pull my skirt up to expose the garters and Cuban stockings. You laugh and grab at the waist to yank it down; you want it off not up. I help lift myself off the bed and you aggressively remove my skirt and throw it across the room. With one glance of my smooth, bare lips visible once my knees are back in place, your cock is sprung, throbbing to feel me. You force my right leg open and down to the bed.