here it is folks, a sunday morning tease...
He took my phone, and I frowned.
“Look at you,” he said. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, and yet you don’t believe it.”
“Come off it!” I reached for the phone, trying to snatch it out of his hands, but he held it further away, laughing. With one hand firmly on my chest he stepped closer, pushing me back.
“Fuck you!” I yelled.
“I very much hope so,” he said, in that clean cut English accent of his that I adored.
Still holding me away, he touched my phone with his other hand, rolling his thumb over the screen. I struggled to get to it, but a flash surprised my eyes and I blinked.
He laughed, again. “See?” he said. He showed me the picture. A wild haired me was pushing myself forward, and the angle of the camera had been looking right down my top. The loose white cotton of my t-shirt had fallen away and the camera flash had caught the dark nub of my nipple behind my white lace bra.
“Give me the phone,” I said, reaching for it.
He stepped back, and took another picture.
“Take off your jeans,” he said.
“No!” I started to turn around, but he leant toward me.
“Please,” he said. “It’s your phone. You can delete the pictures after. Just look at them, first.”
“Or you can send them to me, when I’m in the middle of an important meeting.” He raised one eyebrow. “Or send them to me, when we’re at dinner, somewhere nice. Or when I’m alone, when I’m waiting for you.”
He was rock hard, his swollen cock pushing against the expensive fabric of his suit trousers. As I watched, he put a hand over his crotch and gripped himself, but he never took his eyes from mine.
“I could look at you forever,” he said.
He moved the phone, pointing it at me. I hesitated, but my fingers were already on my zip. Without looking up, I kicked off my shoes and slid the tight denim down my legs. The flash burst into life, twice, then three times, and as I started to straighten up again, he let out a soft moan.
I moved my shoulder, well aware, this time, of the view down my open top. His breathing quickened and I looked up, into the lens. As the light flashed, I licked my lips, and slowly brought my hands over my hips.
I stood up straight.
“Take off your shirt,” he said.
I took hold of the thin cotton, but I didn’t pull it over my head. Instead, I wrapped it around my wrist, pulling the fabric tight over my breast, knowing how it caught on my nipples, how they pushed out, under the thin fabric.
I held the t-shirt wrapped tightly around my body and with my other hand, I started to mold my breast with my fingers. I squeezed my nipples, and I watched as he took photo after photo of them. Then I turned. I slipped my feet back into my high heels and I pulled the thin t shirt up and over my head.
I looked back.
He turned the phone to show me, but I shook my head.
“No, look,” he said. “See what I see.”
“I don’t want –” I started to say, but he pushed the camera right up to me.
I looked good.
Sure, my hair was a bit messy but I looked… I searched for the word.
Yeah, I looked real sexy.
The thin cotton caught every inch of my curves and as I gazed at the photo, I wanted to pull back the slip of lace that covered me. I wanted more.
I looked into his eyes.
“Take it again,” I said.
I turned for him and spun, slowly, letting my fingers stroke my body.
I ran my hands over my hips, over my waist, cupping my breasts, pinching my nipples –
I put my hands in my hair. I spread my legs wide. Leaning down, down, following my legs, gripping my ankles, I looked back.
I beckoned him closer, moving my ass.
I beckoned him closer still, and with one finger in the edge of my panties I began to draw them down.
I didn’t need to see the picture; I knew I was glistening wet. With my panties half way down, I reached back, tracing that one finger around my cunt.
In a quick spin I stood and turned on my heels, stepping out of my panties. I undid my bra and leaned back, knowing the arch of my waist would complement my full breasts, knowing my skin looked amazing under the flash light – knowing that as I dipped my finger inside my cunt then drew it over my thigh, over my belly, that I left a trail of honey, a tell tale show that yeah, I was there. I was so, so there.
I leaned back against the couch and crooked my finger toward him. Slowly, moving inch by inch, I opened my legs.