‘Mine’…?

Am I his…?

I think I am….

He waits, saying nothing.

Waiting for my reaction?

Yes, I think so.

Biting my lower lip, I cup my breasts in my hands, lifting them, thumbing my nipples, pressing them together to exhibit my cleavage.

His eyes follow my movements. He’s keeping his cool, but I think I see the press of his erection showing. As I circle the darker halos of the areolae, the skin crinkles tighter and his pupils, widening, turn his already shadowed eyes all but black.

“Enough,” he says. My hands freeze in mid-movement.

His eyes lock with mine, then indicate down.

“You want me to….?”

“Show me.”

my panties, his eyes tracking the movement. “Take them off,” he says. “I

too happy to take them off. My pussy is running hot, streaming and my panties are hideously uncomfortable. I strip them away to reveal my dark curls, glistening wet. Uncertainly, I run my fingers through the moist hair. I can

course,

leaving my body, he picks up his glass from the side

that. Lie back. Open your

My breath catches again.

but laid out so flat, I’m

“I

to the coarse words. They should offend

eye again. Perspiration runs down my

me what you want me to do to you; where you want me to touch you, how you want

hand. He sips at it, watching me with his midnight

being shy? I want to know you.

parted, but he nudges at first one, then the other with the glass,

close enough that I scent him. He

my thighs wide, as wide as I am able. His lips don’t move, but his eyes smile as they travel from my face

give you everything you ask for. Everything

excitement, wantonness and desire, I trace the line of my swollen, almost melting folds with fingers that glide,

you

away the

see that you’re embarrassed, but please don’t be timid with me. Give yourself to me. Show me what

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