I wanted to stand before him in my lacy bra and black panties, but since standing wasn’t an option I knelt before him. My nipples were taut, and my breasts were ripe for the taking. And my God, how I wanted him to take them.
He unclasped my bra, and my full breasts partially bounded out of their constraints. Lace lingered just along the edge of my nipple. I looked at my half-exposed breast and back up at him and smiled. He rolled the straps off each shoulder until the bra fell to the ground behind me.
His calloused hands slowly moved down the sides of my body grazing my breasts and peaked nipples. His hands cupped their shaped, while his thumb traced my areola and gently rubbed my nipple. It was an intoxicating combination and a hypotonic hit to the senses. I tilted my head back lost in the moment, but just as soon as I was in euphoric bliss he moved further down my body. He seemed to be physically memorizing the outline of my body, the contours of my curves, the low dip that led to the promise of fulfillment we hadn’t been able to enjoy the other night. I wanted him to stake it, claim it, and own it.
My clit was peaked, ready to be touched, sucked, or whatever he wanted to do. I had to have him inside me, and the longer he made me wait the more my hunger for him grew.