I had teased him for a little over two weeks before arriving. I teased him on my time, always inconveniently, and usually with intentionally terrible public timing. He got to pick one outfit, you see. One sexy lingerie set I was bringing to wear for him. His choice, out of the many mix and match options I own. Stockings, body stockings, thigh high socks, a few different colors, different patterns, with teddies or a body suit, or … or… or… It was a joy to tease him. It stroked my ego and on occasion a rare moment of vanity to play upon his fetishes, his yearnings, his need, his desire… and yet it was a delicate dance that never devolved into sexting and passion and his explosion which alternately fascinated me and baffled me. He doesn’t understand these games, and I don’t want to consider them games with him. I stepped gingerly, and came away from each teasing session affectionately pleased yet restless.
I saved the best for last only a couple of days before leaving. I was setting up my packing list so he’d need to choose. I had taken new lewd photo sets in the worshipping sun and the last set my lingerie kept “slipping” as knowing I was going to be teasing him turned me on. I made him sweat at work. Whimper. Squirm. I made him admit he was hard for me as he looked at the images at his desk while anyone could walk by. Imagining his blush was my reward, and I let him continue on about his day. I pounced later on that evening and made him be specific about his choice from the plethora of naughty he’d received. He wasn’t specific enough in total, so I spent some time in my closet adding to the outfit I was packing. Knowing that I was going to be wearing it for him I fussed, and mentally berated myself for not repairing an older slip that would have been perfect but the shoulder strap had broken going through the wash and – overthinking again I just set aside my choices and his and resolutely told myself that I finalized the outfit and the packing list.
I look him in the eye and tell him I am going to put on the lingerie he’d chosen, then banish him to the bathroom where he is to wait until called. Taking a deep breath I strip and slide my thigh high stockings on very carefully so as not to snag them. I straighten the seams and eye the results in the mirror over my shoulder, fussing a little more. I slide the garter belt on and settle it up over my hips, checking how the clips line up and then easing them onto the wide band of the thigh highs to help them stay during movement. Of course, doing up the rear clips one of the front ones pops free and I curse under my breath and sigh. Finally finished with the underthings I smooth everything carefully and check the framing of my ass with the garter straps, the real reason to wear the belt and clips. Realizing that while it doesn’t look quite right, that’s because I’m missing my heels and I step into them and secure the buckles. Feminine rituals for a lover, and why they can’t be rushed… especially when you are a perfectionist. Frowning, I find I dislike the way my thigh stretch marks are made rather obvious by the front straps as I wiggle the grey slip over my head. I keep the grumbling in my head and try to think sexy thoughts as I clip the built in shelf bra and everything above the waist comes up cleavage. That doesn’t stop me from tugging down the slip band to cover the imperfection I know is there to make sure it rests covering the top of my thigh highs to start.
I stalk over to the desk and slide the chair away from it, an idea forming hazily in my head. I also snag his bag from the ottoman at the bottom of the bed and tuck it away for more surface area just in case. Cocking my head I stare at the door and realize that we didn’t discuss a scene. Wicked ideas swirl in my head but nerves actually race too close to the surface and I can’t clutch at any one thing firmly to settle. Biting my bottom lip I square my shoulders and call out to him that he can come out now. I embellished the outfit: why did I think that was a good idea, again? I just barely keep my arms from crossing my body, and my hands from curling into fists and I stand there, waiting. I don’t think he knows what it costs me to wait there. Exposed, but not. Confidence in pose and stride, chin up, and nothing but swirling chaos inside.
His face is lit up. Like a kid in a candy store. He’s so happy that it breaks me just a little. “You look so hot!” He looks me over and steps forward.
“You like it?” The words sound wry as I gesture grandly and walk to meet him, but I’m pretty sure that’s the constriction in my throat and he wraps his arms around my waist, his grin almost goofy as he rushes a series of assuring statements.
“I love it! It’s beautiful! You look so pretty in it! It’s so sexy!”
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him, appreciative and soft and then back up to the desk and turn around. “You have to see the rear view, too.” I bend over just a bit in the heels and wiggle. I know he loves my ass, so hearing him say it is expected and makes me grin but I am not prepared for him to drop to his knees, as flat as he can make himself and touch and nuzzle my legs covered in the patterned fabric. He murmurs and strokes and pets and hugs my legs and I don’t quite know what to do. I was not ready for the feeling of this… this worship. I gingerly reach down and back and caress his hair, rubbing and threading my fingers through it as he detours to breathe in the scent of my pussy from behind and I feel a deep pull of arousal, yet he just caresses me and I wonder how long he would kneel here just like this. All… disbelief and appreciation like I’m his personal goddess.
If time weren’t always our enemy I would find out. Maybe sit down and relax with him just like this. Maybe have him press up between my stocking covered calves and caress and enjoy the fabric until I want to order him to hump them. His nose bumps into my ass cheek as he nuzzles the back of my thigh and my mind flashes to order him to spread those globes and lick. I could… I could do that, but his appreciation and subservience and my spinning brain can’t quite bring my lips to form cracking or cooing demands. I just… want what he wants. Does he know? Does he know what he wants? I can’t fucking tell and so I slowly, so he isn’t surprised and can shuffle back a little, turn into his body.
His face is right at the juncture of my thighs. I look down at him and caress his pretty face. I put my hand on the top of his head and angle him so he’s looking right at my pussy and then I edge up the slip. No panties. Just the thigh highs and garters. I pet his hair and then drag his face close enough that his nose is buried up against me and then pull him back. He’s waiting for orders, I think. I’m teasing him, inadvertently, by being indecisive. I don’t want to talk, though. The words don’t want to spill free. I struggle a moment longer, my hips swaying before him, my grip firming before I lean down to kiss him, my tongue delving deep and his hands find and grab my ass. I moan into the kiss when he does that and there’s only a brief hesitation before he grips a bit more firmly and gropes my ass. I pull back and look at him there, on his knees, his mouth hanging open and glistening from my kiss and I turn and face the desk again.
I ruck up the slip fully, my ass exposed entirely and framed by the garter straps and I lean forward. His hands fill with the meat of both cheeks again almost immediately. He may be tentative, but he’s a very smart boy. He caresses and rubs and then carefully, one hand draws back and he gives a very weak smack to my right cheek. My breath still catches, though. He’s spanking me. He’s on his knees but he’s spanking me. He wants to watch my ass jiggle and bounce for him. Those two things pull at me. Call out to different parts of me and don’t help me sort out everything I’m feeling. We both wait a very tense moment, and then he does it again. He doesn’t ramp up the weight behind his smack. It’s almost like a brushing off of lint for me and my legs shift restless as I think we both wonder if he can bring himself to do what he wants, and in a way that will speak to the masochist in me. My hips roll, my body asking for more and I manage to tell him, “Watch.”, before taking my own hand to my ass for three sharp slaps in a row, pinking the skin nicely letting him know that I can definitely take more.
He carefully massages my ass where I just spanked myself and I moan softly at the tenderness and then he draws back and comes back harder. And then again, harder still and I moan like a whore, my hips pushing back and my back arching to give him a better target immediately. I wish there was a mirror. I desperately want to see his face as he watches my body yield before him. Is it confusing? Arousing? I feel his cheek nuzzle my thigh and he pets my ass and then smacks it again and I moan and I need to see him. I need him to know that it’s okay. I still am having trouble communicating but I need to see his face.
I turn quickly, my thighs spreading, “Touch me, feel what you did to me.” He takes only one finger and slides it along my slit and his pupils are blown with arousal. He starts to slide that finger into his gorgeous mouth and I crouch before him, my knees wide on either side of his kneeling form, my tongue dipping into his mouth right beside his finger and we both lick around it and then kiss passionately. All I can manage is, “Okay?” and he gets what I’m asking thank goodness.
“Yeah, it’s… your reaction.” I nod hurriedly and kiss him again and then stand and take back up the position as though if I wait too long or let him talk too much or think too much I fear he’ll stop. His hands alternate now. Both spanking me and then grabbing and I think at one point I feel him kiss my ass cheek but I’m crying out his name and moaning and writhing and bucking back into him and if we were further along I’d order or beg him to fuck me now now now right now, but we aren’t and I can’t and I just need him so much and I manage to turn around and point at the ottoman and tell him to sit and I mount him there. I mount his lap, straddling him and I drool directly into his mouth and he fucking loses his mind and he’s smacking my ass until I feel a sting and then his mouth latches onto my throat and pulls and pulls and it’s just this side of pain perfection and who the fuck do those high pitched little shrieking moans belong to???!?!?! and he doesn’t stop and I don’t want him to and my hand is on his cock all hard and thick as I burn alive in his arms and jerk him off and he makes these grunting groans and at some point I realize I just keep asking him if he wants to fuck me and he can’t answer because either he’s got his mouth on my throat or is making those helpless grunts because my hand is tugging ferociously on his cock and his hands haven’t fucking stopped spanking me and holy FUCK–
snowghoul
tangentwithtanner
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
