Sexuality Happens

I thanked whatever deity there was that this gorgeous woman had seen fit to wear a knee length skirt. Granted, the boots she had on were incredibly sexy, but they didn’t give me the same easy access that her skirt did. Bending down, I ran my hands up and down her thighs, caressing her everywhere but where she wanted to be touched. She gyrated her hips into me, her eyes meeting mine, pleading. She reached down to encourage my hands inwards, but I pushed them up. By now, she should have discovered that I was in charge here. This continued, my hands making their way over her entire body, pinching her nipples and tickling her thighs.

Her skin was smooth, and she smelled faintly of lilacs. Chalk that up to one more reason I love Femmes – they always smell perfectly, almost without even trying. Why the hell was I thinking about that now? I had this beautiful, sexy and partially naked woman in front of me, and all I could think about was how she smelled like the lilac bush on a warm spring day after the rain. Shaking my head, I returned to the moment, and let me hands continue their determined path all over her flawless skin.

Finally, when I thought I might have teased her enough, I moved my hands to where she was dying for me to touch. I slid both of them around her and up under the edge of her skirt. Brushing them lightly over her, I felt my insides jump when I felt lace under my fingertips. I didn’t need to lift her skirt up to know that they were lacey boy shorts. I lifted just the edge and saw the black lace – they made her already delicious ass look simply divine. Her wearing them meant she had planned at least part of this, and I stopped to think whether I really was in control of the situation.

A slight gasp of pleasure coming from her brought me back to reality. My fingers gently danced over her underwear, enough to cause her to breathe faster, but not quite enough to give her the pressure she craved. I could be devious when I wanted to be. Surreptitiously, I slipped my fingers into the top of her waistband, allowing them to slowly creep down on their treasure hunt. She was dripping wet. Simply drenched. I almost groaned out loud – I wonder if she knew what she was doing to me. She was just as turned on as I was, and that’s saying a lot. Just as my middle finger began to encircle her clit, the elevator doors dinged open again.