Secreterial Sin, and Red Knickers – Part 2
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The smell of her perfume overpowered me a little bit, as I rainedkisses down her long neck. The cold end of the glistening diamond that hung from her ears stroked my fiery skin, as my hands stroked upwards, circling her waist through her silk dress. I stroked her lower back, along her spinal cord, and she shivered in delight, arching backwards. My hands, my hard hands travelled lower, and I found her silk clad ass cheeks, that yielded softly to my touch. I took one in each hand, and squeezed longingly. I dug my fingers along with her dress into the wedge in between them, and squeezed harder. Her ass cheeks, marvelously taut flexed and expanded as I molded them, vibrating from the escort rough slap that I landed on them. Kiara Mital whimpered, twice. I caught her second whimper with my mouth; and the third, as my left hand hit her again. With my right hand, I bunched the water silk of her morning dress, and felt the smoothness of her thighs. Slowly, I traced my hand upwards, feeling her waist, and how it dipped in the middle. I circled her naval and then, unable to resist in one smooth motion, I shucked off her dress. There before me stood a woman of forty, in the throes of pleasure, writhing for more. There before me in a white lace bra (that hid mouth-watering escort bayan nipples, large and puffy behind their net) was five-feet-eight-inches of creamy spa-kept skin; and an experienced rosebud, fully waxed sans underwear, just as I liked it. I couldn’t help myself. I bent down: the smell of her sweet vagina was intoxicating, but it would have to wait. I knelt before her, and rubbed my day old stubble on her soft tummy. She moaned. Turning, I liked her naval, and blew bubbles into it. Then, I kissed my way above to the junction of her breasts. Kiara, reached back to unfasten her brassiere, but I grabbed her hands, swept them high over bayan escort her head, turned her around and rammed her against the wall. She could feel my enlarged member against her buttocks now, as it rubbed against her ass crack through my Armani. I filled her in my arms, and pressed her to me, trying to feel, touch and stroke every part of her body as if she would burst into flames any minute. I reached up then, and held her breasts in my arms. Slowly, excruciatingly, I kneaded them – as if my life depended on the motion. I pressed them between my warm palm and the cold wall, and squeezed them against eachother. I took them in my hands, and weighed them. I stroked them, hit them hard. Slowly, I circled each nipple through the lace with my finger. Her glorious nipples stood then, like milk bottle nipples, inviting me into their chewy ecstasy. I pushed her onto the sofa nearby so that her ass rested on the arm rest, and her head rested inches above the floor.