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On Friday morning Stephen awoke very early. He was excited about seeing the girl again. Would she really keep her promise and allow him to have sex with her? She had said she wanted his cock inside her. Stephen had a huge erection the whole time he was taking his morning shower. He was glad to be in the shower before the nurse had arrived. She often assisted him but today he would have been mortified had she seen the state he was in. He would have had no explanation. Plus the obvious improvement in his health and wellbeing may have prompted her to curtail his assistance.

He wondered if he could ask for the day help girl to be changed. Mary was a great house-keeper, but the new girl was exciting and he wanted to see as much of her as possible.

The nurse arrived around eight thirty and Stephen was already breakfasted and sitting in his chair.

‘You’re up bright and early today, Stephen, dear,’ she commented as she came in.

‘I was just awake early.’

‘Couldn’t you sleep? Did you feel unwell?’ typically her enquiry assumed the worst.

‘No. I mean it’s not that. I just felt rested and wanted to get up.’

‘Well that’s good. But if you can’t sleep let me know and we can get you something to help.’

Stephen smiled and nodded. He didn’t want anything to help him sleep. If today went as he hoped it would he’d have no trouble sleeping tonight. The nurse went about her routine and he waited patiently for the girl’s arrival. Eventually, at about ten to ten he heard the back door open and the voices of the nurse and the girl in the kitchen. Minutes went by but there was no sign of her coming in to say hello. At last he heard her enter and looked around from his chair.

His heart sank. It was Mary. She was obviously well and had returned to her normal job. The realisation dawned that the girl wouldn’t be coming today. Somehow he managed to smile and greet her, ‘Hello, Mary. Feeling better? It’s good to see you,’ he lied.

Mary chatted as normal and immediately began her duties. She was a good worker but there was no frisson between them. Stephen found himself looking at her differently. For the first time he saw her as a woman, rather than simply a housekeeper. She was taller than the girl. Nowhere close to his six-three, obviously, but perhaps a good head taller than the girl. He noticed her figure. It was more buxom than the girl’s, with bigger breasts and a shapely ass. He tried to imagine fucking Mary and even wondered if he could get her to look at his porn magazines. Maybe the same thing would happen?

Somehow, though, he knew it couldn’t happen. He knew yesterday had been a fluke that could not be repeated. In frustration he watched Mary throughout the day, remaining polite but disengaged. Before she departed he asked Mary who had been her replacement the day before.

‘Oh, I don’t know. It was a new girl, I think. Was there a problem? I can find out who he was and…’

‘No. No really. There was no problem. She did a good job; nice friendly girl.’

At last the evening came and he was alone. He decided to forget the girl and tried to watch TV for a couple of hours. But it was useless. He had so wanted to see the girl. He’d pinned so much on it that he now felt angry with her. He decided to throw her panties in the bin. After all they would simply be a reminder of something that he couldn’t have. He went to his room and took them from his bedside drawer. He turned to go to the back door and out to the bin but something stopped him. He looked at the small black garment in his large hand and slowly brought it to his face. The material was heavy with her scent. The clean, perfumed, musky scent of her body. There was also the smallest trace of a sexual aroma. The smell of her privates, what had she called it? Her cunny.

Stephen held the pants to his nose and inhaled deeply. He felt his cock twitch. He slowly undressed and still holding the pants he lay back on his bed. Naked and on his back, his cock stood straight up in the air. She had been impressed by it. It was a magnificent specimen; thick and straight, with a large domed head. He clasped the panties to it in his fist and started to slowly masturbate. He tried to imagine her small hand stroking him like she did the day before. He tried to imagine her next to him; the heat of her body and her scent. He wanted her so much. He lifted the panties back to his face and smelled them again. The scent brought her to him more vividly and he could see her pretty face and her delectable little body. He could imagine her heat and the feel of her body against him. He could even recall the odd sensation of the metal hoop on her lip as she had pressed her face to his. He wanted to kiss her, he wanted to lick her body, suckle her beautiful little tits. He imagined licking her smooth little pussy. He had hardly ever done that. His wife had thought it disgusting and so oral sex was still virtually a fantasy for Stephen. Would the girl have sucked his cock? He started to imagine her small hot mouth sliding suadiye escort over his large erection. The image expanded in his mind and he felt his semen welling up and spurting from his cockhead. Gawd how he wished he was cumming into her sweet mouth. She had said she loved cum on her face. Was that real or just bravado?

Stephen lay panting on top of his bed. Naked and with his spunk splattered over his stomach. He slowly drifted off to sleep with his head full of images of the amazing girl that had so briefly passed though his life. He yearned to see her again.

He awoke with a start. A couple of hours had passed. With an effort Stephen got up and made his way around his home turning off the TV and lights. He dressed in his pyjamas and rolled into bed. He held the girl’s panties to his face. Their aroma aroused him once more and in the darkness of his bed he again fisted his thick erection until it spewed its load once more. He was no longer angry with the girl. He wanted her like he had never wanted any other woman. He had to find out who she is. He had to see her again. He had to see her again… he had to… Soon he was asleep.

On Saturdays and Sundays there is no home support. There had been at the beginning but as Stephen’s health improved it was scaled back to just weekdays. He found he now quite liked the peace and quiet and usually had a bit of a lie in. But by ten o’clock he was up and about, still dressed in his pyjamas he sat at his kitchen table and enjoyed some breakfast. He realised that his pyjama bottoms were crusty and stained from the previous night so he dumped them in the wash and headed for the shower.

An hour later Stephen was ready to go out for his usual Saturday walk to the shops. Since his illness he hasn’t strayed too far, but today he decided to go into town and to visit the porn shop and top-up his magazine collection. He thought that if he can’t see the girl again, he may as well enjoy some good porn.

Some hours later he returned home with his shopping and an anonymous black plastic bag containing several new magazines. He decided that he will have a bath and retire to bed early to enjoy those, along with the girl’s panties.

By 7.30 pm he had eaten and was running his bath. He enjoyed and good soak and climbed out feeling warm and clean. Ready for a lovely session, he thought. Stephen was quite excited and thought that at least he has the girl to thank for re-awakening his sexual desire. Maybe he could even find a new partner?

After his bath Stephen prepared a drink and set his new magazines on the bed and checked that the girl’s panties were on his pillow. Soon he was just about to climb into bed when there was a knock at his front door. He was quite amazed as he hardly ever got callers, and certainly not at this time in the evening. He thought that it’s probably some kids or possibly someone lost. Nevertheless, he took the precaution of hiding the magazines in his bedside cupboard, just in case it’s a visitor who needed to come in. Putting on a dressing gown he went to the door.

On opening the door there was no one there. He stepped outside and looked left then right. To his shock and amazement the girl was leaning up against the wall.

‘Hey,’ she smiled at him, ‘missed me?’

For a moment he just looked at her, then his countenance changed and he grinned, ‘Yes I did miss you.’

‘You gonna ask me in then?’ she chirped.

‘Of course, come in,’ Stephen turned to enter but she didn’t follow. He looked back out, ‘You coming in?’

‘Yes. It’s just. Well my friend is here too.’

‘Oh’

‘So can she come in too?’

‘Yes, why ever not? Come in.’

Stephen entered his house and the girl followed. They entered the living room and Stephen turned to welcome her as he heard the front door close. A moment later the second girl entered the room. She was clearly the girl’s friend. They were very similar. They seemed to be similar in build and style; although the new girl was a fraction taller and possibly with a fuller figure and larger boobs. Under an overcoat she wore a waistcoat style garment on top of a more figure hugging black top with long sleeves. Even their hair styles were similar, but the new girl has a shock of white-blonde colouring in one thick strand on the left. Sort of like Cruella DeVille. Stephen smiled at both of them.

‘So who’s your friend?’

‘That’s G,’ the girl stated minimally.

‘And do I get to know your name now?’

The girl laughed, ‘Sure, it’s Bri.’ she grinned at him, ‘so were you going to bed?’

‘I was but that was before I had such wonderful company.’

‘You sure, we can just go if you like.’

‘No, please. Stay, you’re very welcome. Both of you.’ he looked between the two and smiled.

‘Great,’ Bri set down her large canvas bag, which made a distinct clink. They looked at each other and both girls snorted with laughter.

‘You young ladies been drinking?’

‘Absolutely,’ G spoke for the first time.

‘You yakacık escort drunk?’

‘No,’ Bri reassured him, ‘we just had one in the pub. So we’re not at all drunk.’

‘Yet,’ sniggered G.

They both laughed again and Bri took off her coat to reveal a very similar outfit to the one she wore the other day. Except this time both shoulders were bare. She fished in her bag and produced four large bottles of cider. She asked if she could get some glasses and she disappeared into the kitchen. Stephen looked at G and invited her to sit down. She dropped her coat and sat on the edge of the small sofa. Her bag clinked down too and she opened it to take out another four bottles. At that moment Bri returned and announced that she had found ice too. She poured three glasses of cider on ice and they all clinked cheers.

‘It’s a bit bright in here,’ Bri complained and moved around turning on the two table lamps and turning off the ceiling light. ‘That’s better,’ she affirmed.

Stephen moved his chair around to face the sofa and the two girls sat together on it. They chatted and drank and Bri explained that she was re-assigned on Friday and so couldn’t come to his house. She then asked him what he had done today. Stephen smiled to himself and the thought formed in his head to say – I wanked over you and bought some porn. Naturally, he didn’t and instead he gave her a brief account of his day. The girls told how they had spent the day shopping and hanging out with friends. As they talked Bri unfastened her boots and tossed them aside. She then swung her legs up over G’s lap. Stephen was amused once more by the oddly girlish socks she was wearing.

‘Don’t mind me, will you?’ G said in mock complaint.

‘Aww, rub my feet, babe. They’re tired from all the walking.’

‘And stinking, pooh,’ G exaggerated flapping her hand as if to wave away to stench.

Bri pulled her foot up to her nose and sniffed. ‘They’re not stinky at all,’ she defended herself with a smirk.

‘I know, just kidding, you know I think your feet are cute.’ G reassured her.

‘Give me yours too,’ Bri demanded. G now wriggled out of her boots and Stephen saw that she wore black nylons under the seemingly obligatory leggings. She then swung her legs up and crossed them over Bri’s.

As the conversation continued the girls gently massaged each other’s feet. Stephen was amazed at how un-self-conscious they seemed. The chat roamed from shopping to work and G asked Stephen about his illness. He thanked her and reassured her that he was getting well. G seemed to snigger at this. They talked about their boyfriends and told Stephen how they weren’t seeing them tonight as they both worked in bars in the town.

When their drinks were empty G volunteered to go out to the kitchen to make-up some more. When she left, Stephen stood and said that he would just go and change, as he felt a little self conscious in his dressing gown.

‘Why?’ Bri asked.

‘Well it would be more appropriate.’

‘Are you naked beneath that?’

‘Well, yes, so…’

Bri giggled,’Well it’s not like I haven’t seen it before. She bounced out of the sofa and scampered over to him. In an instant she hugged him and wormed her hand under his gown. He felt her fingers encircle is flaccid cock and she gave it a little squeeze, ‘There he is.’ Stephen smiled down at her and she rose up on her tiptoes and lightly kissed his chin.

Just then G’s voice interrupted them, ‘Oh get a room you two!’ Stephen stepped back away from Bri. He looked nervously at G, then at Bri.

‘She told me what happened between you two,’ G confirmed.

‘I see,’ Stephen wasn’t sure what that meant.

‘I thought it was a bit weird when she told me she fucked some old guy.’

‘I didn’t fuck him,’ Bri snapped quickly, ‘I told you that.’

‘Yeah but you would have if he had any rubbers, you said,’ G retorted.

‘Yeah,’ Bri giggled, ‘But I told you he was cool, didn’t I?’ Bri hugged him again.

‘Well you told me he had a huge dick,’ G announced mockingly.

‘You slag. You weren’t supposed to say that,’ Bri seemed a little annoyed and looked sheepishly at Stephen. He smiled and she seemed to relax again.

But then G spoke again, ‘So you still gonna fuck him?’

‘Shit, G!’ Bri seemed upset.

‘Well you brought rubbers, for fuck’s sake. You said you were going to.’

‘That’s not fair. I haven’t decided. Sorry,’ she added to Stephen as an afterthought.

‘That’s OK, Bri. I wouldn’t expect…’

‘You fucking ruin everything,’ Bri snapped at G.

‘Fuck off!’ G spat back, ‘Why are we here if you’re not going to fuck him?

They looked like they might fight and so Stephen said, ‘Now girls, let’s be nice. We were having a nice drink and a chat, let’s get back to that, OK?’

The two girls looked at one another’

‘Bitch.’

‘Slag.’

But they were smiling and then laughing so the feud seemed to be over. Bri led Stephen to the sofa şerifali escort and sat next to him.

G pertched on the armrest behind Bri. Her arm slunk around Bri’s neck and she bent to kiss her cheek, ‘Sorry, Babe.’

‘S’OK,’ Bri kissed her back. The kiss lingered a moment on her cheek then Bri glanced sideways at Stephen, ‘C’mere,’ she said to G. G leaned down and Bri kissed her full on the mouth. As Stephen watched their lips pressed together and then parted slightly. He saw their tongues cross over to tease one another. G’s eyes were closed but Bri kept hers fixed on Stephen. This was incredible. Stephen had never actually witnessed two women kiss as lovers. He didn’t know if this was real or just a show for him. But he liked it and his cock started to respond.

Then G leaned over to whisper to Bri.

‘You ask him,’ Bri said aloud.

‘Ask me what?’ Stephen was curious.

Bri looked at G but she said nothing, ‘She wants to see your cock, but she’s too scared to ask. Fucking virgin.’ Bri mocked.

‘Shut up.’ Then looking at Stephen G asked, ‘Is it really big?’

‘Bri says it is. I don’t have much experience with cocks,’ Stephen joked.

‘Can I see?’ G asked coyly.

‘I suppose,’ Stephen looked at Bri who seemed to give a small nod and a smile.

Eyes fixed on Bri, Stephen untied the belt of his dressing gown and opened it to expose his semi-hard cock resting against his thigh.

G immediately commented, ‘How big does it get?’

‘I think I know how we can find out,’ Bri said quietly.

She pulled G down onto the seat beside her. G now had her back against the sofa and Bri quickly knelt over her lap, just the way she had done with Stephen. ‘He likes girls together,’ she said quietly as she leaned in to G. Their lips met in a soft kiss and their hands started to roam up and down one another’s body. G’s hands encircled Bri’s bottom and Bri fondled G’s boobs. Stephen watched fascinated as their mouths parted and he could see their tongues, tips lightly touching. They were so soft and gentle with one another it was beautiful to watch.

Bri kissed G’s neck as she started to unbutton the waistcoat. It was soon open and G wriggled to help her remove it. In one swift action Bri then pulled G’s top off over her head. She wore just her bra and Stephen could see her fulsome breasts bulging over the half cup. All of this had done wonders for his cock which was now at attention in his lap and Stephen gently stroked himself as he watched them.

‘You too,’ G spoke quietly. She then tugged Bri’s top out of the waistband of her small skirt and pulled it over her head. They both now sat in their bras. G lightly kissed Bri’s neck and shoulders before slipping her bra straps off and letting the bra fall away from her boobs.

Stephen relished seeing her pale pink nipples again and his cock twitched with excitement as G took them into her mouth one by one. As her friend suckled on her tits Bri looked over at Stephen. She smiled when she saw that his cock was fully erect and murmured something to G. G turned her face sideways to look and she too grinned and then turned back to suck on her friend’s nipple once more. As she did this Bri unsnapped her bra strap and drew it off her waist where it had slipped. She was now naked from the waist up. She wanted G to be the same and pulling her forward she opened her bra. Stephen stroked a little harder as the larger breasts were revealed, already topped with thick, erect brown nipples. Bri immediately dropped her head to suck one of them into her mouth, to which G gave a little gasp of pleasure. For the next few minutes the girls exchanged suckling kisses to one another’s breasts and Stephen slowly masturbated next to them.

Then G’s hand stole across to reach into Stephen’s lap. Her finger tips tickled his balls and then her hand rested on top of his. Bri noticed and looked at her friend who spoke in an exaggeratedly pouty voice, ‘I want to play with the nice man’s cock.’

Bri just climbed out of her lap and knelt by Stephen’s feet. G just seemed to loll sideways so that she was half lying across his lap. Both girls started to tickle and stroke Stephen’s erection and he let go to enjoy their touch. Bri then bent her head to plant tiny, soft kisses on his thighs and then his balls, while G did the same thing, kissing along his shaft. The kisses were just with lips and with a butterfly lightness of touch. Stephen’s head was swimming. From virtually never experiencing oral sex he now had two sexy young girls kissing his manhood. He put his head back and savoured every touch and caress of their hands and lips.

G moved up his shaft and the pressure of her kisses increased. A hot velvety softness encased his cockhead and Stephen glanced down to see G, eyes closed, sucking his cock into her mouth. An involuntary groan escaped his lips.

‘He likes that, babe.’ He heard Bri speak softly. Her head then disappeared behind and below G’s and Stephen felt her lips and tongue press into his shaft just below G’s mouth. This was intense and the sensations caused him to well-up. He felt he was going to cum. He didn’t want this experience to end but he had to regain control. Almost in a reflex he doubled-up and gently pushed the girls back, groaning as he did so.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Note: This story was inspired by Khachaturian’s Masquerade Waltz, so in an attempt to try something new, I’ve set it this piece to music. Though the music isn’t entirely period correct to New York’s Gilded Age where our story takes place, I hope you’ll enjoy it all the same. -AG

Suggested Playlist:

Jazz Suite No. 2: VI. Waltz — Dmitri Shostakovich (1938)

Frühlingsstimmen (Voices of Spring), Op. 410: Waltz — Johann Strauss II (1882)

Masquerade (Suite): I. Waltz — Aram Khachaturian (1941)

“The Lady Alexandra Greene!” announced the powdered attendant. I suppressed a groan beneath a taught, eyeless smile. It was 1908 already, and we were still acting like it was Louis’s court, and in New York City no less. Even for a masquerade, the powdered wig felt over the top.

Fuck, I hate these society do’s. It was an unladylike thought, but honesty was generally thought unladylike these days. I chastised myself. I could have chosen to stay at home and enjoy a quiet night in my study, but here I am.

Boredom is the best explanation, although in fairness a masquerade wasn’t such a tragic expense of time. The costumes, the color, the freedom to be a little less gentile, a little more reckless. And I do love to dance, so a night upon the ballroom floor should be no great ordeal, even if it means the usual pawing by drunken and cavalier men.

My coat was taken and I passed into the ballroom. I was no stranger to eliciting such reactions, but the hum as I entered still satisfied. Silver and blue velvet-trimmed satin clung close to my skin and a deep cowled collar revealed far more of my back and bust than was strictly fashionable. That might deter some of the older gentlemen, though it did tend to encourage the younger and brasher.

But I wished to dance, and I required partners with energy and endurance. Of course, life would be so much more straightforward if only I could find satisfaction among men off the dance floor too, but alas, that has never been my preference.

As expected, I didn’t have to wait long before a tall handsome young man offered his hand. I took it and we were off. John, he said his name was; I just smiled blankly. Men liked that.

The next was Edward, followed by another John. And so on for the first hour. I wore each out before passing on to the next. We danced to the Strausses and Rimsky-Korsakov, Chopin and Liszt, the ever-ubiquitous Tchaikovsky, music with beauty you did not parse detachedly, but could feel in your heart, in your bones.

Another hour passed with more Strauss and Dvorák, more Johns and Edwards. And while I delighted in the music and my own body, I grew more bored with each successive partner.

And just when I thought I could not take another, the crowds parted, and there she was. I would recognize that profile anywhere, that long neck, those lush curves; Lillian Grey, my roommate once in that little monastic French boarding school. Little Lillian Grey, awkward but pretty, of noble birth but questionable parentage and always reminded of it, sitting next to me on our hard, rough-linen beds, practicing our Latin, and then later once the matron had made her final rounds for the evening….I jolted myself; that was a decade ago and I was too old for nostalgic wistfulness.

Age had refined her beauty in the years since we were abruptly parted, though she still maintained that aristocratic bearing that she had used to defend herself from the world. Tonight she was radiant in a sleeveless emerald-green gown embroidered in black, cut low in the back, revealing the creamy olive hue of her skin that gave her so much trouble and those crisp shoulder blades that always gave me so much delight. She turned lightly on delicate feet, and though her face was obscured by a black filigree mask, it couldn’t hide the fine tapered jaw and petite chin that set off her piles of curling black hair.

Our eyes met from across the room, hers a perfect match for her emerald gown, locked onto my own slate grey blues. The corners of her full red lips curled upwards, suffusing my body with a carnal heat. Apparently, she saw through the silver of my mask and the years of separation, too.

She was surrounded by a circle of admirers and hangers-on, who while smiling and toadying to her face would likely whisper their feral accusations when they retreated to their various, vicious cliques. Well, this would shake those pretentious fools. I abandoned the latest John without a word and made an unwavering line for her, parting dancers and toadies alike.

“Miss Grey, may I have this dance?” I asked. She met my gaze and smiled, a subtle blush rising over her cheeks, as the wizened-haired woman she had been chatting with gasped and choked.

“It would be my pleasure,” she responded, “but only on one condition. I must be allowed to lead the first dance!”

I barked an unladylike laugh as the old maid grasped her pearls and huffed away. “I might be amenable to that,” I answered, “though you may find it a high price that I shall kaynarca escort extract for it,” I added with a wink. She took my hand and pulled me to the center of the floor, through a haze of murmurs and sidelong glances. A generation ago, no one would have given a second glance to two ladies dancing together, but now the whole reading world knew the words invert and lesbian, and something had been irretrievably lost. Mrs. Astor certainly would not approve, but our titles and money would keep her and her minions silent, at least for a little while.

We fell into a pleasing rhythm quickly and without effort. She led naturally, a change from our youth when she had been so content to follow me without question. I wondered if she now lead in other aspects of her life, too.

Her soft voice broke my reverie, “What are you thinking about, Alexandra?”

“You, Miss Grey.”

“If you call me Miss Grey again, I shall become very cross with you,” she playfully scolded.

“Lillian, since my eyes first had the privilege of your divine form tonight, I have thought of nothing else. At the moment though, I was wondering if you lead in all things these days.”

“I have found a tremendous amount of satisfaction in the flexibility to lead or follow, as the situation dictates.” At her words, I quickly moved my hand to her waist. She took my cue and switched effortlessly to follow me.

“This is more to my liking,” I said with a smile as another waltz fell upon us. The rhythm started slow but gained steam. A few moments more and the tempo became swift, forcing the less robust couples to retreat from the floor. We only smiled and lifted our skirts a touch higher. The music was a current, swift and tumbling. We turned and turned again, our feet light, the rhythm driving us, our energy rambunctious. It had been too long since we had held each other on a dance floor. We spun and slid effortlessly over the floor as the music crescendoed. We beamed at each other, our forms united in movement. It was only when I lifted her in a spin as the music crashed over us that I remembered that we were not in fact alone. The unified gasp of a hundred onlookers broke our perfect hypnosis.

Lillian spoke first as the tempo eased from its crest. “Everyone is staring at us. They must be absolutely scandalized!”

“No, my dear,” I responded, giving her another flamboyant twirl. “The word you’re looking for is ‘titillated.’ Now, if you were to shout ‘Votes for Women!,’ you would surely see scandalized. The truth is that they’re enjoying this as much as we are. Watch.” I gave her a gallant — and slightly provocative — dip, eliciting a robust round of applause the the gallery nearest and more than a little tittering from the corners.

We both broke into unrestrained and boisterous laughter. I cannot say for certain what those around us thought, but for that moment, it was the furthest thing from my mind. And as the music finally slowed and faded, I took Lillian by the hand and led her from the floor.

We fell into our seats still struggling for breath, even as our laughter slowly died down. “I have not danced nor laughed so freely in years, my dear,” Miss Grey gasped. “Not since my — our — youth. Oh, you could make me absolutely howl then. I’ve never found anyone who could match you for it since. Plus, you’ve positively ruined me for dancing.” Her eyes darkened suggestively. “Just as you ruined me for men in that little chapel at school. I might never forgive you for that.”

“I’d have never forgiven myself if I hadn’t,” I responded. “Anyway, I was ruined for men when my governess changed her torn stocking before me when I was 12. It was only fair I pass on the wisdom of a life free of the rougher sex.” Her hand rested on the table, and I placed mine over hers, my silver satin gloves sliding frictionless over hers of soft black velvet. I felt the heat rise from my belly until it colored my pale cheeks. “Come with me, love. I need a drink.” We both stood, and as we walked across the ballroom, I offered her my elbow, which she took, a telling grin playing across her lips.

From the main ballroom, we took our champagne down a back hall. It was dimmer there, the lights lower, and the walls were lined with little niches as one would see in the chapel of a grand cathedral. Chapels, I thought to myself.

“How well do you remember the chapel at school?” I asked, no small amount of suggestion implied.

“Every detail. It was the place where my whole world was shattered. I remember those years with you fondly, even if the ending was bitter. But that chapel, oh yes, the white marble altar that separated the apse from the knave. We’d lay down behind it, and look up at that high domed roof. And then one day you kissed me, and it felt like that whole ceiling was crashing down upon me.”

I took her glass and set it on a table along the wall before pulling her into the alcove. I turned her towards me and backed her against the panelled wall. “Lillian, I have tasted those lips küçükyalı escort in my dreams ever since. I cannot wait any longer to taste them again.”

“But we’ll be seen!” she protested.

“Perhaps, but do you care? I do not. Some will gossip and slander without any cause, so I see no difference whether the deed is done or not.” I might have pressed my case further, but she pulled my body towards hers and pressed her full lips to mine.

The sensation was dazzling, and my whole body smouldered. My hand slid up her smooth back, over her long pristine neck, and twined within her soft curls. My fingers closed around her pinned locks as my tongue prised her lips apart. Time had made her softer yet bolder, more generous, and more daring.

Her hands gripped my waist, and my stays creaked as she drew our bellies together. I could feel her heat through the layers of her gown, and my body responded in kind. Our tongues danced no less fiercely than our bodies had minutes before. If others passed and gaped at our cleaving bodies, we did not know it.

The entire world beyond that shadowed alcove was lost to us as we reacquainted ourselves with bodies grown fuller with time and womanhood. I could taste the champagne on her tongue as I imagined she could taste it upon mine. The scent of lilies — always, and without irony, her favorite scent — filled my nostrils. My hand that was not lost in her hair descended down over her narrow waist to her full hip and around to the generous curve beyond, cupping it, easing her leg up and away, allowing me to slide my thigh between hers.

Her head fell back, breaking our kiss with a gasp and a sigh, allowing me to press my lips down her petite jaw to her soft, smooth neck. I trailed kisses over the crease between muscle and throat, over the thin little ribbon from which a single pearl hung, until I reached that glorious hollow at the base of her neck. My hand gathered her skirt inch by inch until I found the hem, and beneath it, her silk-clad leg. I rounded her thigh with my gloved hand until I found what I sought. Cool satin found hot wet flesh, and she sighed, low and long. I traced her bare collarbone with my lips, my fingers doing the same to her warm sex below.

“Take me home, Alex. Now.” She needed not ask again. I released her skirts, allowing them to drape between us. I lifted my hand to my face and held my soaked fingers beneath my nose, savoring her long-missed scent before running the ruined satin over my lips.

“You still taste delightful. Time has not dulled your flavor in the least,” I purred.

Her eyes flashed darkly as she took my gloved fingers in hers and placed them in her mouth. “Mmm…it has always tasted better from your fingers. Now, let’s get our coats. I wish to taste you as well.” We traced the outline of each other’s lips, wiping away smears of carmine in the dim light. It would do to get us to the door.

We called both carriages. I ascended into mine while Lilian slipped in one side of hers and out the other to join me, giggling at our simple little subterfuge. Once in the door, she wasted no time, moving her skirts deftly within the small space to sit upon my lap, pressing her lips to mine, seeking my tongue with hers.

I desperately groped at her waist to pull her closer still, but when the angles of our bodies and necks became too much a burden, I threw her to the opposite bench, rattling the carriage, and fell to my knees before her. I splayed her legs and placed myself between them, taking her neck once more into my mouth, kissing with all the longing my lips could employ.

My hands again slithered amongst the curls of her hair; I kissed and nipped downwards until I could bury my face amongst her generous bosom. She gripped the back of my head and held me there, my breath cut short. I bit and sucked at her breasts, leaving little purple welts and pale lip color upon them.

My hands were travelling over her curves and down her thighs as the carriage came to a sudden halt. The trip had been entirely too short, but no matter, our journey was only beginning. We righted ourselves just enough as the coachman opened the door, allowing us to tumble from it, giggling and shushing each other. We hurried through the door held by the footman and clumsily ran up the stairs, discarding our masks, myself leading Lillian by the hand as fast as heels and skirts allowed. Then we were through my chamber door, and shut it fast behind us. And there we stood, hearts pounding, hands entwined, only a sliver of space between us, simply gazing into each other’s expectant eyes.

Once the realization had set in that here we were finally and at long last in private, the dizzying, desperate pace of our fumblings at the ball and in the carriage gave way. We now had as much time as we wished to savor each other; unsaid understanding passing between us that we would make the most of it.

Slowly, I drew Lillian to me, our skirts rustling as our thighs and bellies met, then our lips. Softly sancaktepe escort this time, just a grazing touch. Then another, almost chaste if not for the promise implicit. We lifted our joined hands away from us, an echo of our dances earlier, pulling us even nearer until our outstretched hands collapsed onto each other’s bodies. Hers rose to my face, cupping my jaw, while mine slid around her back to cup the full curve of her bottom.

Our kiss deepened, tongues exploring, sliding over one another, tasting, our hearts once again surging in tempo. The kiss crested and our lips broke, arousal blooming across our skin from breast to cheek, our hearts pounding and breath ragged. I took Lillian’s hand once more and led her through my sitting room and into my bedroom, the gauze-draped four-poster looming with promise. I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed each finger, slowly, deliberately; my lips parting just enough for her fingertips to settle on my tongue before my teeth gently closed and pulled the wet tips of her gloves from her fingers. Once all were loose, I unbuttoned the wrist and slowly slid the soft velvet over her skin, watching the little hairs rise on her forearms with each inch exposed. How delightful were her responses, her taught goose-pimpled skin, her shaky breaths and tiny gasps.

Her arms finally bare, I allowed my fingers to graze over them, take in their full length and smooth, silky surface. She shuddered when my touch crossed her wrists and passed the final few inches of her long, delicate fingers.

“My turn,” she said. She spoke softly, her voice barely a breathy murmur. In the quiet of my bed chamber, those words held a strange and startling power. Though she spoke in a whisper, the words ripped through me like lightning. She touched my wrists, nimbly unhooking the buttons without once breaking her eyes from mine, and once undone, she simply pulled by the middle finger, each glove releasing as if by divine fiat.

My heart pounded as she lifted the silver satin to her face, passing the limp fingers beneath her nose. “I love this smell, the arousal of a woman. I’m going to enjoy greatly the scent of you upon my own fingers.”

Warmth pooled at my center at her words, the racing of my imagination matched only by that of my heart. But I would take my time, delay that sweet satisfaction and revel in the delightful pain of longing.

I slipped a single slender finger beneath the black ribbon around her neck. Her understanding was instant. I stepped backwards and she followed, her feet once again in perfect harmony with mine. I needed no force, no words; she complied without question. She would allow me to lead after all.

We stopped inches from my bed, the sheer drapes tickling our skin. My hands slid over her shoulders and under her arms, which she lifted gracefully out to her sides. She was no doubt accustomed to being undressed by another, but her maid likely never saw Lillian’s chest heaving and blushing when she touched her mistress.

I took my time, following her curves with my hands gently down her silk-clad legs to remove her shoes, and then up her soft sides. I unhooked her gown and drew it off before teasing her with the satin ribbons of her stays as I unlaced them.

When she was in nothing but her Parisian knickers, stockings, and chemise, I stood back to admire her incredible figure. He body was stately, lush. She stood still, her chin raised, her arms still out, once again a dancer holding her position, elegant, ready. It was only when I kissed her again that she moved, and then only to embrace me in response.

Our lips and tongues melded together once again, and I felt her fingers work the hooks of my gown. She teased it from my body and slid around to my back, her legs pressed against mine as she unlaced and removed my stays. She worked quietly and deftly as she undressed me, removing my undergarments and stockings without another word.

When she had removed the last of my clothing, she wrapped her arms around me from behind and pressed herself into my back, kissing up my spine to my neck. Her hands wandered over my belly before splitting, one rising to cup my breast, the other sliding down over my navel to rest amongst the dark hairs at the cleft of my thighs. Only inches lower she would find a pool at her fingers.

I turned in her arms to face her, my bare breasts and taught nipples grazing across the fabric of her chemise. My hand found her breastbone and I softly pressed her backwards until she fell with a sigh through the gauze onto the waiting counterpane. With her on her back, I could slide the soft silk of her stockings down her long olive legs, kissing every inch in sensual delight.

Her bare legs fell apart when I released them, revealing a dark, wet stain on her silk knickers where her thighs met. I traced my hands up her legs and climbed between them. I lifted the hem of her chemise to lay small kisses on her exposed belly, her skin going taught immediately, a low moan escaping her parted lips.

I lifted the chemise up over her breasts and took each nipple into my mouth in turn. Her moan echoed above me as her hips pressed upwards, her sweet slickness sliding over my belly. Heat flashed upwards from my center, so close to hers, and was almost too much to endure.

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Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Note: This story was inspired by Khachaturian’s Masquerade Waltz, so in an attempt to try something new, I’ve set it this piece to music. Though the music isn’t entirely period correct to New York’s Gilded Age where our story takes place, I hope you’ll enjoy it all the same. -AG

Suggested Playlist:

Jazz Suite No. 2: VI. Waltz — Dmitri Shostakovich (1938)

Frühlingsstimmen (Voices of Spring), Op. 410: Waltz — Johann Strauss II (1882)

Masquerade (Suite): I. Waltz — Aram Khachaturian (1941)

“The Lady Alexandra Greene!” announced the powdered attendant. I suppressed a groan beneath a taught, eyeless smile. It was 1908 already, and we were still acting like it was Louis’s court, and in New York City no less. Even for a masquerade, the powdered wig felt over the top.

Fuck, I hate these society do’s. It was an unladylike thought, but honesty was generally thought unladylike these days. I chastised myself. I could have chosen to stay at home and enjoy a quiet night in my study, but here I am.

Boredom is the best explanation, although in fairness a masquerade wasn’t such a tragic expense of time. The costumes, the color, the freedom to be a little less gentile, a little more reckless. And I do love to dance, so a night upon the ballroom floor should be no great ordeal, even if it means the usual pawing by drunken and cavalier men.

My coat was taken and I passed into the ballroom. I was no stranger to eliciting such reactions, but the hum as I entered still satisfied. Silver and blue velvet-trimmed satin clung close to my skin and a deep cowled collar revealed far more of my back and bust than was strictly fashionable. That might deter some of the older gentlemen, though it did tend to encourage the younger and brasher.

But I wished to dance, and I required partners with energy and endurance. Of course, life would be so much more straightforward if only I could find satisfaction among men off the dance floor too, but alas, that has never been my preference.

As expected, I didn’t have to wait long before a tall handsome young man offered his hand. I took it and we were off. John, he said his name was; I just smiled blankly. Men liked that.

The next was Edward, followed by another John. And so on for the first hour. I wore each out before passing on to the next. We danced to the Strausses and Rimsky-Korsakov, Chopin and Liszt, the ever-ubiquitous Tchaikovsky, music with beauty you did not parse detachedly, but could feel in your heart, in your bones.

Another hour passed with more Strauss and Dvorák, more Johns and Edwards. And while I delighted in the music and my own body, I grew more bored with each successive partner.

And just when I thought I could not take another, the crowds parted, and there she was. I would recognize that profile anywhere, that long neck, those lush curves; Lillian Grey, my roommate once in that little monastic French boarding school. Little Lillian Grey, awkward but pretty, of noble birth but questionable parentage and always reminded of it, sitting next to me on our hard, rough-linen beds, practicing our Latin, and then later once the matron had made her final rounds for the evening….I jolted myself; that was a decade ago and I was too old for nostalgic wistfulness.

Age had refined her beauty in the years since we were abruptly parted, though she still maintained that aristocratic bearing that she had used to defend herself from the world. Tonight she was radiant in a sleeveless emerald-green gown embroidered in black, cut low in the back, revealing the creamy olive hue of her skin that gave her so much trouble and those crisp shoulder blades that always gave me so much delight. She turned lightly on delicate feet, and though her face was obscured by a black filigree mask, it couldn’t hide the fine tapered jaw and petite chin that set off her piles of curling black hair.

Our eyes met from across the room, hers a perfect match for her emerald gown, locked onto my own slate grey blues. The corners of her full red lips curled upwards, suffusing my body with a carnal heat. Apparently, she saw through the silver of my mask and the years of separation, too.

She was surrounded by a circle of admirers and hangers-on, who while smiling and toadying to her face would likely whisper their feral accusations when they retreated to their various, vicious cliques. Well, this would shake those pretentious fools. I abandoned the latest John without a word and made an unwavering line for her, parting dancers and toadies alike.

“Miss Grey, may I have this dance?” I asked. She met my gaze and smiled, a subtle blush rising over her cheeks, as the wizened-haired woman she had been chatting with gasped and choked.

“It would be my pleasure,” she responded, “but only on one condition. I must be allowed to lead the first dance!”

I barked an unladylike laugh as the old maid grasped her pearls and huffed away. “I might be amenable to that,” I answered, “though you may find it a high price that I shall kaynarca escort extract for it,” I added with a wink. She took my hand and pulled me to the center of the floor, through a haze of murmurs and sidelong glances. A generation ago, no one would have given a second glance to two ladies dancing together, but now the whole reading world knew the words invert and lesbian, and something had been irretrievably lost. Mrs. Astor certainly would not approve, but our titles and money would keep her and her minions silent, at least for a little while.

We fell into a pleasing rhythm quickly and without effort. She led naturally, a change from our youth when she had been so content to follow me without question. I wondered if she now lead in other aspects of her life, too.

Her soft voice broke my reverie, “What are you thinking about, Alexandra?”

“You, Miss Grey.”

“If you call me Miss Grey again, I shall become very cross with you,” she playfully scolded.

“Lillian, since my eyes first had the privilege of your divine form tonight, I have thought of nothing else. At the moment though, I was wondering if you lead in all things these days.”

“I have found a tremendous amount of satisfaction in the flexibility to lead or follow, as the situation dictates.” At her words, I quickly moved my hand to her waist. She took my cue and switched effortlessly to follow me.

“This is more to my liking,” I said with a smile as another waltz fell upon us. The rhythm started slow but gained steam. A few moments more and the tempo became swift, forcing the less robust couples to retreat from the floor. We only smiled and lifted our skirts a touch higher. The music was a current, swift and tumbling. We turned and turned again, our feet light, the rhythm driving us, our energy rambunctious. It had been too long since we had held each other on a dance floor. We spun and slid effortlessly over the floor as the music crescendoed. We beamed at each other, our forms united in movement. It was only when I lifted her in a spin as the music crashed over us that I remembered that we were not in fact alone. The unified gasp of a hundred onlookers broke our perfect hypnosis.

Lillian spoke first as the tempo eased from its crest. “Everyone is staring at us. They must be absolutely scandalized!”

“No, my dear,” I responded, giving her another flamboyant twirl. “The word you’re looking for is ‘titillated.’ Now, if you were to shout ‘Votes for Women!,’ you would surely see scandalized. The truth is that they’re enjoying this as much as we are. Watch.” I gave her a gallant — and slightly provocative — dip, eliciting a robust round of applause the the gallery nearest and more than a little tittering from the corners.

We both broke into unrestrained and boisterous laughter. I cannot say for certain what those around us thought, but for that moment, it was the furthest thing from my mind. And as the music finally slowed and faded, I took Lillian by the hand and led her from the floor.

We fell into our seats still struggling for breath, even as our laughter slowly died down. “I have not danced nor laughed so freely in years, my dear,” Miss Grey gasped. “Not since my — our — youth. Oh, you could make me absolutely howl then. I’ve never found anyone who could match you for it since. Plus, you’ve positively ruined me for dancing.” Her eyes darkened suggestively. “Just as you ruined me for men in that little chapel at school. I might never forgive you for that.”

“I’d have never forgiven myself if I hadn’t,” I responded. “Anyway, I was ruined for men when my governess changed her torn stocking before me when I was 12. It was only fair I pass on the wisdom of a life free of the rougher sex.” Her hand rested on the table, and I placed mine over hers, my silver satin gloves sliding frictionless over hers of soft black velvet. I felt the heat rise from my belly until it colored my pale cheeks. “Come with me, love. I need a drink.” We both stood, and as we walked across the ballroom, I offered her my elbow, which she took, a telling grin playing across her lips.

From the main ballroom, we took our champagne down a back hall. It was dimmer there, the lights lower, and the walls were lined with little niches as one would see in the chapel of a grand cathedral. Chapels, I thought to myself.

“How well do you remember the chapel at school?” I asked, no small amount of suggestion implied.

“Every detail. It was the place where my whole world was shattered. I remember those years with you fondly, even if the ending was bitter. But that chapel, oh yes, the white marble altar that separated the apse from the knave. We’d lay down behind it, and look up at that high domed roof. And then one day you kissed me, and it felt like that whole ceiling was crashing down upon me.”

I took her glass and set it on a table along the wall before pulling her into the alcove. I turned her towards me and backed her against the panelled wall. “Lillian, I have tasted those lips küçükyalı escort in my dreams ever since. I cannot wait any longer to taste them again.”

“But we’ll be seen!” she protested.

“Perhaps, but do you care? I do not. Some will gossip and slander without any cause, so I see no difference whether the deed is done or not.” I might have pressed my case further, but she pulled my body towards hers and pressed her full lips to mine.

The sensation was dazzling, and my whole body smouldered. My hand slid up her smooth back, over her long pristine neck, and twined within her soft curls. My fingers closed around her pinned locks as my tongue prised her lips apart. Time had made her softer yet bolder, more generous, and more daring.

Her hands gripped my waist, and my stays creaked as she drew our bellies together. I could feel her heat through the layers of her gown, and my body responded in kind. Our tongues danced no less fiercely than our bodies had minutes before. If others passed and gaped at our cleaving bodies, we did not know it.

The entire world beyond that shadowed alcove was lost to us as we reacquainted ourselves with bodies grown fuller with time and womanhood. I could taste the champagne on her tongue as I imagined she could taste it upon mine. The scent of lilies — always, and without irony, her favorite scent — filled my nostrils. My hand that was not lost in her hair descended down over her narrow waist to her full hip and around to the generous curve beyond, cupping it, easing her leg up and away, allowing me to slide my thigh between hers.

Her head fell back, breaking our kiss with a gasp and a sigh, allowing me to press my lips down her petite jaw to her soft, smooth neck. I trailed kisses over the crease between muscle and throat, over the thin little ribbon from which a single pearl hung, until I reached that glorious hollow at the base of her neck. My hand gathered her skirt inch by inch until I found the hem, and beneath it, her silk-clad leg. I rounded her thigh with my gloved hand until I found what I sought. Cool satin found hot wet flesh, and she sighed, low and long. I traced her bare collarbone with my lips, my fingers doing the same to her warm sex below.

“Take me home, Alex. Now.” She needed not ask again. I released her skirts, allowing them to drape between us. I lifted my hand to my face and held my soaked fingers beneath my nose, savoring her long-missed scent before running the ruined satin over my lips.

“You still taste delightful. Time has not dulled your flavor in the least,” I purred.

Her eyes flashed darkly as she took my gloved fingers in hers and placed them in her mouth. “Mmm…it has always tasted better from your fingers. Now, let’s get our coats. I wish to taste you as well.” We traced the outline of each other’s lips, wiping away smears of carmine in the dim light. It would do to get us to the door.

We called both carriages. I ascended into mine while Lilian slipped in one side of hers and out the other to join me, giggling at our simple little subterfuge. Once in the door, she wasted no time, moving her skirts deftly within the small space to sit upon my lap, pressing her lips to mine, seeking my tongue with hers.

I desperately groped at her waist to pull her closer still, but when the angles of our bodies and necks became too much a burden, I threw her to the opposite bench, rattling the carriage, and fell to my knees before her. I splayed her legs and placed myself between them, taking her neck once more into my mouth, kissing with all the longing my lips could employ.

My hands again slithered amongst the curls of her hair; I kissed and nipped downwards until I could bury my face amongst her generous bosom. She gripped the back of my head and held me there, my breath cut short. I bit and sucked at her breasts, leaving little purple welts and pale lip color upon them.

My hands were travelling over her curves and down her thighs as the carriage came to a sudden halt. The trip had been entirely too short, but no matter, our journey was only beginning. We righted ourselves just enough as the coachman opened the door, allowing us to tumble from it, giggling and shushing each other. We hurried through the door held by the footman and clumsily ran up the stairs, discarding our masks, myself leading Lillian by the hand as fast as heels and skirts allowed. Then we were through my chamber door, and shut it fast behind us. And there we stood, hearts pounding, hands entwined, only a sliver of space between us, simply gazing into each other’s expectant eyes.

Once the realization had set in that here we were finally and at long last in private, the dizzying, desperate pace of our fumblings at the ball and in the carriage gave way. We now had as much time as we wished to savor each other; unsaid understanding passing between us that we would make the most of it.

Slowly, I drew Lillian to me, our skirts rustling as our thighs and bellies met, then our lips. Softly sancaktepe escort this time, just a grazing touch. Then another, almost chaste if not for the promise implicit. We lifted our joined hands away from us, an echo of our dances earlier, pulling us even nearer until our outstretched hands collapsed onto each other’s bodies. Hers rose to my face, cupping my jaw, while mine slid around her back to cup the full curve of her bottom.

Our kiss deepened, tongues exploring, sliding over one another, tasting, our hearts once again surging in tempo. The kiss crested and our lips broke, arousal blooming across our skin from breast to cheek, our hearts pounding and breath ragged. I took Lillian’s hand once more and led her through my sitting room and into my bedroom, the gauze-draped four-poster looming with promise. I lifted her hand to my mouth and kissed each finger, slowly, deliberately; my lips parting just enough for her fingertips to settle on my tongue before my teeth gently closed and pulled the wet tips of her gloves from her fingers. Once all were loose, I unbuttoned the wrist and slowly slid the soft velvet over her skin, watching the little hairs rise on her forearms with each inch exposed. How delightful were her responses, her taught goose-pimpled skin, her shaky breaths and tiny gasps.

Her arms finally bare, I allowed my fingers to graze over them, take in their full length and smooth, silky surface. She shuddered when my touch crossed her wrists and passed the final few inches of her long, delicate fingers.

“My turn,” she said. She spoke softly, her voice barely a breathy murmur. In the quiet of my bed chamber, those words held a strange and startling power. Though she spoke in a whisper, the words ripped through me like lightning. She touched my wrists, nimbly unhooking the buttons without once breaking her eyes from mine, and once undone, she simply pulled by the middle finger, each glove releasing as if by divine fiat.

My heart pounded as she lifted the silver satin to her face, passing the limp fingers beneath her nose. “I love this smell, the arousal of a woman. I’m going to enjoy greatly the scent of you upon my own fingers.”

Warmth pooled at my center at her words, the racing of my imagination matched only by that of my heart. But I would take my time, delay that sweet satisfaction and revel in the delightful pain of longing.

I slipped a single slender finger beneath the black ribbon around her neck. Her understanding was instant. I stepped backwards and she followed, her feet once again in perfect harmony with mine. I needed no force, no words; she complied without question. She would allow me to lead after all.

We stopped inches from my bed, the sheer drapes tickling our skin. My hands slid over her shoulders and under her arms, which she lifted gracefully out to her sides. She was no doubt accustomed to being undressed by another, but her maid likely never saw Lillian’s chest heaving and blushing when she touched her mistress.

I took my time, following her curves with my hands gently down her silk-clad legs to remove her shoes, and then up her soft sides. I unhooked her gown and drew it off before teasing her with the satin ribbons of her stays as I unlaced them.

When she was in nothing but her Parisian knickers, stockings, and chemise, I stood back to admire her incredible figure. He body was stately, lush. She stood still, her chin raised, her arms still out, once again a dancer holding her position, elegant, ready. It was only when I kissed her again that she moved, and then only to embrace me in response.

Our lips and tongues melded together once again, and I felt her fingers work the hooks of my gown. She teased it from my body and slid around to my back, her legs pressed against mine as she unlaced and removed my stays. She worked quietly and deftly as she undressed me, removing my undergarments and stockings without another word.

When she had removed the last of my clothing, she wrapped her arms around me from behind and pressed herself into my back, kissing up my spine to my neck. Her hands wandered over my belly before splitting, one rising to cup my breast, the other sliding down over my navel to rest amongst the dark hairs at the cleft of my thighs. Only inches lower she would find a pool at her fingers.

I turned in her arms to face her, my bare breasts and taught nipples grazing across the fabric of her chemise. My hand found her breastbone and I softly pressed her backwards until she fell with a sigh through the gauze onto the waiting counterpane. With her on her back, I could slide the soft silk of her stockings down her long olive legs, kissing every inch in sensual delight.

Her bare legs fell apart when I released them, revealing a dark, wet stain on her silk knickers where her thighs met. I traced my hands up her legs and climbed between them. I lifted the hem of her chemise to lay small kisses on her exposed belly, her skin going taught immediately, a low moan escaping her parted lips.

I lifted the chemise up over her breasts and took each nipple into my mouth in turn. Her moan echoed above me as her hips pressed upwards, her sweet slickness sliding over my belly. Heat flashed upwards from my center, so close to hers, and was almost too much to endure.

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