Undressing

Note from author.

This is what I call "simple erotica." There is no attention paid to plot or character, just arousal. So for those of you who are into plot and character, best move on.

An alert for those of you who like my other dark BDSM stories, this is pure vanilla.

And there's not even any intercourse.

I hope those of you who remain enjoy it!

oOo

She really liked men's clothes, their business clothes, with ties and creases in the pants.

He stood still in such clothes for her delectation. He looked down at her with a smile of affection and curiosity. She was much smaller than him, could just touch the tip of his chin with her nose. He didn't know what her plans were, but he knew to just stay still, hands at his sides.

Their clothes were so different. There he was, so neat and encased. She wore an a-line summer dress of crisp cotton and not much else, not even sandals. It swayed pleasingly against her legs.

She slid her fingertips down his torso and the outside of his legs as she went down on one knee and untied both of his shoes. She indicated that he should help her remove them, which he did by raising his heels, one at a time. She rolled down his socks, and slipped them off. He had good feet. She loved the size and strength. She trailed her fingers down the length and played a bit with his toes.

She was pleasantly aware of her bare legs as her thigh pressed against his calf and then broke apart when she raised herself up from the floor. She lightly grasped his hard calves and the backs of his thighs for balance as she stood up.

He remained still, looking at her just as affectionately, but not quite as puzzled as before. She was announcing her intentions.

She laid her hands against his chest. The fabric fit smoothly over the muscles and she moved her hands slowly, relishing the firmness and warmth.

She loosened his tie, pulled the narrow end through the knot and tossed it on a nearby chair. She unbuttoned the collar. After the next button opened, a shadow of hair appeared. It was not curly. But it was almost curly. She worked her way, button to button, getting a small pulse of satisfaction each time the resistance was breached. As the opening widened she ran her palms over his chest, playing with the hair.

When she finished unbuttoning his shirt, at the wrists too, she tugged it free at his waist. The day was warm, and the shirt was faintly damp there. She assumed it must have felt good to him, to have the shirt pulled free. She ran her hands up his chest and slowly pushed it off his shoulders. She licked one nipple and ran her palm over the other. She took a small step back to survey what she thought was perfection. Beautiful muscles, but slim for all that. She ran her hands again through the pattern of hair. She pushed the shirt down his arms and let it drop on the chair.

Then she turned to the belt. There was something about men's belts, how their firm smoothness could echo the firm smoothness of the waist they encircled. She unbuckled it and let it hang loose.

Some swelling near the bottom of the zipper distorted the smooth line of the front of his pants. This presaged a shift in the image. She undid the snap to move things along. She slowly, teasingly, pulled down the zipper and revealed the silhouette of an awakening cock. She pulled his briefs down to the tops of his thighs and they both watched his cock swell further and straighten up and harden until it formed a straight line from the bottom of his balls to the tip. They watched it for a few more moments.

She pressed closer and put her palms on his bare backside. She relished the firm muscles and made circles with her hands. She let the fingers of one hand trail down the crevasse between his buttocks.

She pushed his clothes to the floor and helped him step out of them. As she rose she was in just the right place to grasp his shaft and kiss the tip and lick it delicately.

And there he was, a sight to behold.

Now she was the one to stand still, arms at her sides.

He grasped the hem of her crisp shift and raised it high. And there she was, [three times is definitely two too many]clad in just bits of silk and lace. He rested his tanned hands on her paler shoulders, his long, slim, strong fingers gently curving around them. He let them trail down over her breasts and around to the hooks in the back. He loosened them and the silky lacy bra slid down her arms to the floor. He bent his head and kissed each nipple and licked it lightly.

When the last piece of silk and lace had slid to the floor a snippet of flesh peeked out of the curls at the top of her legs. He placed his forefinger on the underside at the base and slid it slowly up the slippery surface. He bent over and flicked it with his tongue.

As he straightened up he let his rough cheek slide over her smooth torso and trailed his hands down her arms.

They stood still with their fingers interlaced. The end of his cock rested against her belly. The tips of her breasts nestled in the almost curly hair of his chest. His head tipped down just a bit. Hers tipped up just a bit. And their faces were naked together

THE END