The time had finally come. You were going to fly to Miami and take my virginity. We had planned to go out to dinner and then come back to my house, but we had a change of plans. Your plane was delayed and you would be flying in an hour later. I hadn't yet dressed when I got a phone call from you. "The plane's coming a bit later and it'll be too late for dinner so let's just spend the night together and have some fun tomorrow," you told me, trying not to sound too disappointed. I told you it was okay. I'd have dinner with my family and you would catch a cab to Steve's house and call me in the morning.
This idea didn't seem too fun to me so I made up my own plans. I waited impatiently in my room, listening to music, trying not to go too early. After an hour, I got up and went outside to my car. I drove, heading toward the airport, thoughts racing through my mind of what I'd have in store for you. It would have been too easy to show up in a trench coat naked. You would have nothing to strip off of me.
After going through all the most revealing clothing I owned, I chose my outfit. I kept the heel of my leather boot pressed firmly against the pedal of my Jag. On my legs, I wore silky black thigh highs with suspenders leading up to my garter belt. My barely existent thong was wet between my legs. A lacy red bodice covered my chest as my breasts heaved up and down with anticipation of what was to come. The wind blew through my hair and against the leather jacket that barely reached my knees.
The planes buzzed overhead loudly, still no match for the din of my pounding heart. I pulled into the terminal and against the curb. Luckily, you were only a few cars away, loading a single navy duffel bag into the trunk of a banged-up Chicago taxi. I got out of my car and crossed the 30ft of pavement that lay between my lover and me. You looked up at the sound of my heels pounding the cement beneath us. The look of surprise on your face turned to wonder as I came closer, flashing you a glance of the clothing beneath my jacket. You retrieved your bag from the cab's trunk and walked with me back to my car.
When we had both gotten into the car, I pulled away from the terminal. You figured we were heading back to my house for some play, but you had never been to my house before. You didn't realize that I wasn't going back the way I came, but towards a Holiday Inn not far from the airport. The trip was only 45 minutes. We sat in sexual silence throughout the drive, my wetness dripping onto my leather seat, a bulge growing in your khakis. Finally, we arrived at the hotel and I drove around back to the door that would be closest to the room I had already checked into earlier that afternoon.
You took your luggage from my trunk as I retrieved a black carry-on from the back seat of my convertible. We went through the door and up to our third floor suite. There was a bottle of champagne submerged in a bucket of ice on a cart in the middle of the room. Next to the bucket sat a bowl of strawberries, and a canister of whipped cream. You try to hide the smile on your face about as well as you can hide the growing erection inside your boxers. Kicking your shoes and socks off, you lay back, your head resting against the pile of pillows on the king-sized bed. I lay down beside you, kissing your cheek before I nuzzle my face into your shoulder. You wrap your arms around me and fall asleep.
Less than an hour later, you awaken to the sight of me kneeling at the foot of the bed, tying your feet with nylon cords to the bottom bedposts. Your hands are already cuffed to the bedpost above your head. You notice that I have shed my jacket, but still wear the bodice, garter belt, thigh highs, and boots. It doesn't take you long to realize I have also abandoned my thong panties. I move back to the cart of food items, admiring the wonderful upside down Y I have positioned you into.
It is not until now that you realize you have been stripped of all your clothing. I pop the cork out of the champagne bottle and take a long swig of the blond liquor. Stepping close to the bed, I lean my head down to let the liquid drizzle from between my lips onto your bare chest. The beads of wine mix with the perspiration clinging to your gorgeous body. I climb on top of you, straddling your slim body between my legs.
My small hands run up and down the sides of your abdomen as I bend my head to lick the wetness from your chest. I press my chest against your body, pushing my face up into yours. Our lips meet and our tongues are quickly involved in a passionate dance of two lovers starved of each other for too long. You tilt your head down, longing to taste my lips for longer. I pull away from your mouth, leaving you whimpering.
I retreat to the cart once again, this time grabbing a handful of strawberries. I pop one into my mouth as I walk back to your pinned figure. I devour the first four chunks of fruit before taking the last one between my thumb and forefinger and replacing myself above your body. I reach behind my back to release the hooks off my bodice. The stiff fabric falls forward before getting pushed away by me. Your eyes gaze at my pale, shapely breasts, my hardening pink nipples. You lick your lips as your stare follows the strawberry in my hand, running down my flesh, around each one of my nipples and down between my legs.
The sweet red juice stains my skin as the fruit leads a trail around my erect clit and the swelling lips of my pussy. I shudder as the feelings of wanting you rush through my body at the simple ministrations. The tip of your tongue escapes the confines of your lips, reaching out towards the red juice. I touch the leftover chunk of fruit to your tongue and you open your mouth to receive my offering. The taste of my wetness combined with the natural sugars is too much for you to bear. Your cock hardens until it is perpendicular to your body. I smile at the effect that tasting me has had on you. Positioning my hips closer to your face, I slip out of my boots and unclip the suspenders from my garter belt. I roll the thigh highs off my legs one at a time at a painfully slow pace.
