“Spread them open, baby. ”
So I spread my legs a little wider, leaned back and sucked on my pearls.
It is one of those evenings, when the day has been long, when the grass is hot and long, needs cutting, when I know you have poured me a glass of wine as my car pulls up, see you tucking in your shirt, standing straighter, trying to tame yourself quickly, trying not to let your prick betray you before I even get in the door.
You kiss me, that sort of kiss, you know, when you are pressing in to me, but trying not to ask for too much, trying to pull me away from the day and into the grass, but gently, a sip, a gentle hand through my hair first. Yes, yes, you love me, want to fuck me more right now.
You made dinner, I know, caught the herbs and wine as I walked up the path toward you, anticipating. My god, how lucky, how rare to be lusted after, fed well. How rare to be loved.
I wore the stockings, love, the garters, damned impractical, make me think fuck all day, make me think forever of you, of why, think all the way back here, think of your hum, your dazed anticipation when you kiss me, your hand hitting the fastener, your cock pressing into me, so hard, so big, I see it when I close my eyes, take another drink. You tip the glass toward my lips, and I look up at you, that glance you like, don’t mean to, look sideways at you then, turning, and slip off my shoes, slide back onto the couch, not like a lady, but like yours.
“Yes, just like that,” you say, stroking your cock now, biting your lip.
I have worn the silk blouse, the navy fitted blouse and the circle-patterned skirt. It was a public day, you know, my lingerie for you, though, slut I am, want, slick slit now betraying me, scent heady as the wine as you bow before me, lap at my pussy, swollen, it’s all swollen, ripe, wanting.
The clothes are irrelevant now, take them, rip them if your want, spread me, skin please me, please now.