Mmmm, such an unseasonably warm night, I'm so glad you wore that dress. We were really lucky to get those great seats up front for the concert. The crowd is alive, swaying to and fro, we're all losing ourselves in the music. What is it about watching musicians play that's so intoxicating, seeing their expressions as the rhythm flows from their fingers?
Bumping against you, my arms circling you, my desire is so very evident. Kissing your neck as we move to the beat, I feel the humming in your throat. If it weren't for the crowd, I'd take you right here. I love to whisper your name in your ear, telling you just how good you look in that short, sexy dress. My hands are everywhere, searing your skin as I touch, the heat that you know will warm you as the night grows cooler. I love it when you grind your ass against me, grinning back at me letting me know that you know my weakness.
Of course the show is over too quickly, and hand-in-hand we jostle our way to the car. It's such a warm night, we pop the top off the car and relax, sitting down for the first time of the night.
Damn this traffic is miserable, bumper to bumper and a sea of red brake lights as far as the eye can see.
One of your hands is in mine; we're not speaking much, just coming down from the high of the show, and thinking of the pleasure still to come.
Your other hand is doodling on your leg, small circles travelling higher and higher up that velvety thigh; the cool metal of your rings sparkling with reflections of the moon, acting like some kind of beacon for the sensuous trip your fingers are taking.
The hem of your dress has ridden up very high on your thighs as you slide down lower in the seat and your hand continues on it's journey. Oh how I wish it were my hand on your thigh, or better yet my tongue, soaking up the smoothness. But there is something to be said for watching you, your hands knowing that path so well. And as good as the hands of a gentle and caring lover might feel, let's face it, one's own hand always knows just the right touch.
I'm struggling now, a constant battle between watching the road and watching the sexy scene unfolding right next to me. Thank god for the traffic! Such a serene look on your face, your eyes gazing at mine. You're laughing at my uncertainty of where to look....I want to see your face, I want to see your hand, I need to see the road. My eyes are drawn back to your lap, your fingers have finally reached your silk panties, oh fuck they look so good, and as soft as they are, they're not nearly as soft as the hot wetness that lies beneath.
