"I know what you want..." his warm breath trailed over her ear.
"Oh you do, do you?" she drawled, her eyes fixed straight ahead.
"Mmmmm..." the letters resonating in his throat.
A tingling flush danced delicately atop the skin on her thighs.
"I can make out the curves of your silhouette partially illuminated by the street lamp. It's as though I'm witness to a forbidden peep show, the way the darkness and the light brands horizontal stripes along your body, courtesy of the blinds on my window.
I watch as you breath slowly, carefully, your breasts rising with each inhalation. I wonder whether you share the slow ache of anticipation in your chest, as I trace my finger slowly along your collarbone. The top button of your cardigan is undone, a teasing suggestion of the path down. I encircle your body with my arms as I slowly pluck each button through the tiny doorway of its home.
Purposely, I lightly stroke your soft skin with my fingers, diligently working my way down, as if I've removed this cardigan many times before. You hold your breath as each button becomes undone; the material falling away like a gentle unveiling.
Slowly I peel the cardigan over your shoulders, tugging it down, but not completely off, your wrists still encased in the cuffs.
My eyes trail down the light skin of your back as I unhinge your bra, sliding the straps down the same path as your cardigan. Once again I encircle your body as I push the cups from your warm breasts, my thumbs trailing over your taut nipples. I hear your breath catch in your throat as your nipples flick up.
My body is tense, hard. I ache, almost painfully, yet I savour the feeling as I sit on the arm of the lounge. I turn you around, pulling your body toward me, so your thighs are trapped between my legs, against my restrained sex.
I trace the curve of the underside on your breast with the tip of my tongue and it's not long before I'm lapping at your skin, licking, tasting, nibbling. I suck at your nipples, my tongue swirling around the center of your breast and flicking over and over as I squeeze over your hardened points with my lips. I sense it might almost be more than you can stand as I feel the weight of your breast push against my face.
Steadying your hips with one hand, I slide my fingers under the waist of your skirt and push down, the fabric sliding down over your hips and dropping down to your ankles. I am tantalised by the sweet redolence of your arousal. I slide my finger under the elastic of your flimsy cottons, running it along your lips. How easily my finger slips between your folds. You are so wet as my finger slides back and forth, your body slightly trembling.
I can feel the gossamers slowly, yet surely, snapping one by one as I fight to cling to the few threads of my self control. Just a little longer, the carnal rage thrashing in my abdomen.