Nails

How did she have time to make a drink? We'd just come back from dinner out. She's lounging on a tan leather chair, her left arm thrown over the back, her right hand holding what looks to be a white russian.

I'm still drying my hands from my pitstop when I stop dead in my tracks at the mischievous smile she shoots me. Regardless of how much play time we've already had today, this is a look that demands "More!"

Let me go tip to toe so you know what we're dealing with here. Natural gray curls. Blue green eyes. That hungry playful smile, a smile confident in what's to come. Clinging black dress. Full breasts that every part of my body knows so well. The dress stops just above her knees, crossed leg bouncing as an eyebrow comes up. The crossed leg emphasizes a dancer's calves. Legs bare. Black high heels.

Wait a minute. Didn't she have on sheer black stockings before? So she shinnied out of her stockings, buckled her heels back on, mixed a drink, & copped this attitude & pose, all in the time it took me to pee? I'll never understand women.

She raises her glass to her lips, extends her tongue to clean some cream from the rim, takes a sip, kicks her leg a couple of times, & never breaks eye contact. Catching a whiff of her familiar musk, my nostrils flare. Some things I do understand.

I drop my suit jacket on the floor. Kneel on the carpet.

I hear you saying, "You? Kneel?" I know, I know. If you've been reading along, you know I'm a take charge guy. Here's the thing, though. She submits so utterly when she submits that it is an honor to service her. Slowly service her, the way she craves. It will all balance.

As I kneel I drag my beard & mustache from the top of her exposed knee inching down to the soft spot beside her ankle. Slowly back up the inside of her calf. As I kiss the softest part of her knee, she uncrosses her legs, knees still together. I give her other leg the same beard brushing. Hear the intake of her breath when I hit a spot.

When I get back to her knees I put my nose between them. Inhale deeply of her rising musk. As I run my hands atop her thighs over her dress I feel the cold wetness of the bottom of her glass as she makes circles on my shiny head. I stroke deeper from knee to just below her pussy as the icy condensation from the glass runs down my neck.

We still have a long way to go, but the next scene is about to start. As I stroke up her legs, her dress begins to ride up. My fingers are on her dress, my thumbs on bare flesh as I slide further. I sit up straighter to move my nose closer to the source of her perfume. Her legs part slightly as my hands reach the creases at the top of her thighs. I stroke gently with my thumbs. Her ass comes up so I can push the dress over it. I hear the clink as her glass hits the table. She pushes her pussy down to touch my waiting mouth.

I pull my head back so she can't quite touch. I loop my arms under her calves. Pull her legs up so her knees are over my shoulders. The spike heels hit me mid-back. Most importantly her pussy is wide open to my hungry mouth.

I work the outer lips from back to front with my tongue. They are red & swollen from the activities of the day & the arousal of this new moment. After wetting them I blow gently. The chill sends a shiver I can feel progress from her legs to her ass & up her back. She makes a cat sound.

I pick up the rhythm licking up & down her lips & up the wet softness between. Her hands caress my shiny head in time. Her moans, the taste, the smell, her skin, my pose--it all begins to drain the blood from my head. I close my eyes to concentrate on the stimulus I'm giving & receiving.

Her hips begin to buck & grind. The fingers on my head go stiff, press with increasing pressure. I move my mouth to her little nub. Suck with greater urgency to her strangled screams. Her fingernails press into my skull. I feel a tiny trickle of blood go down my neck but I'm lost to the moment. I shake my head to run my tongue across her clitoris. I'm answered by a mighty spasm in her ass. Her legs drum on my back. The scream is chopped into Oh Oh Oh.

I keep my tongue working her lips to draw out the last of the spasms. The pressure on my head abruptly withdraws. She pulls one leg off my shoulder, foot on the floor. A moment of intense eye contact. The other leg. I lay my cheek on her pubic hair. She goes back to stroking my head.

After a moment she says, "Is this blood?" "Yes, my dry cleaner will have a fit but no permanent damage done."

Stay tuned for part 2, when we hear me say, "Get up. I need to sit."