It always takes place in a large bedroom, lit well enough to see clearly, but not so bright as to be distracting. There are heavy drapes covering the window and a large bed, with a sturdy head and foot board. The sheets are soft and dark, with fat pillows at the headboard. The sheets have been pulled back, folded at the foot of the bed.
There is a woman lying on the bed, on her back with her arms stretched above her head, soft leather cuffs attached to each bed post. Her feet are the same, her legs spread wide, but not held tight. She has dark hair that looks like spilled chocolate syrup on the dark sheets. Her pale skin is creamy and smooth; it begs to be turned pink.
I walk to the bed and climb on, taking in the sight of her spread out, unable to stop me from doing whatever I want. It's a powerful thought, to know that I could be rough and even cruel, but she can't stop me. At the same time, I could tease her endlessly with light touches and withheld pleasure.
My need to touch her, to have some contact between us, is overwhelming. I reach out, running a fingertip over the calf nearest me. She watches me, silently watching as my finger traces around her knee and over her thigh. I like the goose bumps that follow my finger's path.
I flatten my hand and place it gently between the ridges of her hip bones, fingertips at one, the heel of my hand at the other. Her skin is warm and smooth. I know my hands are cold and she can probably feel the rough calluses on my palm from years of bike riding. I let my hand settle, warming from her skin, and watch her face.
She raises an eyebrow at me, but doesn't say anything. I give a small smile and run my hand up her torso, over her belly and between her small breasts to her throat. My thumb skates from the left to the right along her jawline; I pluck her earlobe with my fingers before leaning over to kiss her. She tries to tease me, but when she breaks off the kiss to flick her tongue at my lips I move away.
Swinging a leg over her I straddle her tummy and cup her breasts. They are small and I know she wishes they were bigger, like mine, but I love them. They fit into my hands perfectly and her pink nipples are so responsive. I haven't touched them and they are already hard, small pink tips that tighten when I lean over and open my mouth to take one inside. I pause, mouth open, warm breath touching her sensitive skin and she makes a small sound.
Instead of suckling I let saliva drip onto the nipple before me, watching as it falls down the rigid peak, quickly racing down the small hill of her breast. I let more follow, then I move without hesitation to the other nipple, her breasts still cupped in my hands, and latch on. I suck fast and hard, not sure if I enjoy the taste and texture of her nipple in my mouth or the soft hiss she makes at the sudden and intense stimulation more. She arches her back a little, her nipples are incredibly sensitive and I'm not being as gentle as I usually am.
