I love a man in a suit. The one in front of me particularly strikes my fancy. Glasses, pale blue tie done as tight as he could manage. Self-bondage and very controlled.
I fantasize about these men coming undone. About how I would make them come undone.
I'd start by undoing myself. Letting my hair loose from its bun and wiping off my makeup. Then we'd start with a glass of wine or cocktail that's red or pink, "Like my lips" I would whisper as I straddle his lap face to face. My skirt pulled up around my hips if anyone was behind me they'd get a good view of my red thong.
My fingers sift through his hair as he tries to look unaffected. Down his neck and shoulders, his chest, my hips rocking. His eyes turn a little glassy, a little glazed.
He doesn't stop me as I pull his tie loose, undoing his self-imposed binds. I lean forward and lick the shell of his ear. "You look so tense, Mr. Big." My lips move down his neck, my hips still rocking and grinding. He's moving with me, his arms move around me, hands press into my back to keep me close or make sure I don't fall off the ride.
Our mouths come together, but I don't let him kiss me. I wait until our breath patterns coordinate, then I open my lips and grab his lower lip between my teeth.
We kiss. Our lips latch, and our tongues tangle, tease, tantalize.