My apologies for the delay in producing this effort. Chapter 3 will be split into three parts, two are written and the third will be shortly. As a non-writer but a builder of large buildings, my writing expertise tends towards contracts and business letters. As a sculptor my work is with my hands, mind and imagination. As a C-grade student in HS and later University, I squeaked by in English. So, I would like to thank the efforts of my beautiful anonymous editor for her patience, imagery and inspiration. This effort is to entertain and sharpen an ability I did not know I had.
Chapter 3 Part 2
They entered Drews apartment and made themselves comfortable. Drew removed his coat and threw it on the parsons' bench by the door. Without looking back, he trudged to the first-floor bathroom.
He spent longer than usual staring at his reflection in the mirror. He needed to look into his own eyes to know if this was just another psychotic episode, or if this was somehow real. He could still feel her kiss on his lips from the bar. He could smell her on his hands. But all of this could just be his mind fucking with him after six months of drugs and doctors telling him it's some long-lost mommy issue.
He exited the bathroom and walked back to his living room, only to freeze in place. The scene before him was some erotic set placement or his mind was really fucking with him.
Drew found Priss wrapped in a huge white robe, stockinged feet sticking out the bottom, reclined back on the couch. All he could think to say was, "You're naked?"
"Of course, well except for this very warm robe, thank the gods," Priss stated, "How I hate to wear all those clothes, just because of a bunch of prudes."
Drew's brain finally engaged, and he started gaping at the scene around him. The living room was transformed into a sensual, romantic playground. The lights were out, and a log burned in the fireplace. Candles were lit in various portions of the room and a bottle of wine was opened with two glasses already poured. The light from the burning log reflected through the wine in the glasses and made it look like the glasses were dancing to some unknown tune. Soft music played in the background from a collection and artist he did not recognize.
Priss was laid back on the corner of the couch still curled in her large white robe, her stockinged feet curled under her. "Come sit with me, me Drew," she said softly while patting the sofa next to her.
Even if he had not wanted her, he was drawn. She slowly untied her sash, and as he approached, she opened the robe to show her sexy naked body.
As the robe opened, Drew stared hopelessly at her unflawed body. She was the epitome of a man's fantasy, all feminine curves with sculpted muscle underneath. Her long hair was intertwined with the couch pillows she had piled behind her. The hair seemed to move and caress the pillows, stroking them like it would caress a lover. He became trapped in her eyes, so beautiful and with such lust and fire behind them.
His eyes traveled down her sculpted neck to the valley between her large breasts. She was holding a wine glass between them and it seemed to be just the perfect place for it to rest. Her large nipples, pierced with golden circles, topped by red gems, seemed to call out to him to suckle and tease. He traveled down to her stomach, all soft curves, something he would love to sculpt one day.
Her long legs stretched out and slowly spread. The only clothing, she wore were black thigh high sheer stockings and her favorite black pearl panties. Her sexy show of spreading her legs showed the engorged lips of her very moist and lovely smooth pussy kissing the strands of pearls attached to her panties. Her stocking tops, strands of pearls and her swollen wet pussy, pulled Drew's eyes and soul.
"God, you are beautiful," he said in almost a whisper.
"Aww, thank you, me boyo. Come sit now and kiss me."
Drew was drawn to her. He could not stop if he wanted to. He leaned over as she tilted her head back and gave her a soft kiss. It was electrifying.
"How do you do that?" Drew questioned. She looked back at him with the most 'how stupid are you look.'
"Magic," he said, and he knew it was real.
***
Drew stepped back trying to clear his head and get some semblance of thought back. The deeper emotions of lust, sexual hunger and desire were inflaming all his being. His cock was so hard it hurt, but he straightened himself and slowly started to undress.
They both knew she controlled this situation, but he wanted to be more than just a "typical male" with a hard cock. She on the other hand knew the adage, "I have the pussy, so I make the rules," and he was staring at that beautiful pussy the whole time he was stripping his clothes.
"Aww, I love when you go... 'commando,' isn't it?... when you wear dungarees," she said with a large smile as he unbuttoned his jeans. Her hair flared out and caressed his leg as her hand traveled to his jeans and helped push them to the ground.
He smiled at the use of the older phrase 'dungarees,' something his grandfather used to say.
Drew stepped out his jeans, then tossed them in the middle of the living room to land in the pile of his clothes. He stood naked before her and for the first time felt self-conscious. His older body did not exude the same sensuality of the feminine form in front of him.