The moon lit up the snow-covered peaks and streamed through the curtains and the night was still. They stood facing each other when she stepped out of her dress. Her pencil skirt lay around her black heels. He started to untuck his starched white shirt when she grabbed his worn hands.
Let me.
She pulled his shirt out and pushed her hands under. Running her painted nails up over his stomach. Up his chest. Up to his neckline. Gently scratching him on the way back. She unbuckled his belt, looking through him as she knelt.
She removed her silk blouse, and he gasped as he saw her tiny, strong shoulders. The dip in her neck. Her collarbone. Her long throat exposed as she undid her hair. Letting it fall, still curled up at the ends. Her bra was sheer, and he could make out her erect nipples pushing through – aching to be let out.
He reached down to touch. She grabbed his thick fingers and guided them into her mouth, sucking gently. Gazing at him. He couldn’t blink. His throat was so dry. She pushed her tongue between them. It sounded delicious.
She unzipped him and pulled everything down slowly, running her hands up his strong legs, behind his thighs. She looked up at him and wrapped her tiny hand around him. He was already very hard. She licked off the clear liquid coming out of the tip. His mouth was opened in awe. The salty moisture followed from him back to her lips as she drew back to see his face. She put both of her hands around his hips and moved him back and forth to enter her mouth and then retreat. Back and forth. She squeezed him harder, motivating him to move automatically. She let him continue while she undid her bra.
He watched as she exposed her perfectly full breasts, the nipples dark and erect. He had no idea. She never wore anything to reveal this fact. She pinched her nipples and gasped while he was still in her. She ran her hand under him, caressing, then running her nails and pulling a bit. He gasped. She took both hands and worked on him. Gliding up and the wetness she created on him.
I’m close. He shuttered.
She stood and stepped out of her dress.
Sit.
He sat on the edge of bed. She untied his shoes and pulled off his socks then slid off his dress pants. Her hair smelled like incense and her breath, like the Manhattan’s she drank.
She stood with her heels and hose, curling her hair between her painted nails. Deciding what to do next with him.
You’re beautiful.
I know. Smiling back at him
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