We Agreed

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I sit at the bar of the Renaissance hotel nursing my ginger ale. Something stronger would be nice, but it’s a lunch date. I need to be back at work in two hours tops, so ginger ale it is. Stirring my tame drink, I look around the bar area, not really seeking anything specific. You would be there eventually. As I lift my drink to take a sip, a strong hand wraps tenderly around my shoulder. On a slow breath, I look up and find your eyes. I had no idea you would be so gorgeous. Dark hair, tan skin, strong jaw. Your charcoal suit is perfectly fitted over your well proportioned shoulders, crisp, white shirt peeking out from underneath to create a stark contrast. Your tie is beautifully done and draws attention to your neck. I feel a little flutter in my belly as I realize how enticing the entire ensemble is on you. You smile as you take the stool next to mine. “I’m so glad you could make it. I don’t have a whole lot of time but I wanted to get together and at least have lunch.” God, your smile is infectious. I feel my own lips spreading wider into a grin. “Well, I’m glad you called. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” I say. Swiveling my stool, I turn to face you more directly, crossing my stocking-clad legs as I settle against the back rest. My short pencil skirt slides higher up my thighs, and I self-consciously tug it back down. “Yeah, tell me about it.” You hold my eyes with your gaze a little longer than is comfortable, and I look shyly away. I can feel a soft blush creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. Mentally chiding myself for my bashfulness, I look back at you, only to find you eying the line of my skirt, a speculative look in your eyes. Your open study sends the butterflies in my stomach flapping harder, the blush heating my face further as I clear my throat. Your eyes snap back up and I see the devilish glint there. I feel a giggle stuck in my throat, wanting to burst out and break some of the tension gathering in my chest. So I let it, feeling like a teenage girl tittering over a boy she’s got a crush on. I almost snort indelicately, but catch myself, placing a hand over my mouth and laughing. The mirth in your eyes is a relief. You catch the bartender and request a Coke and some lunch menus. After that initial moment of sexual tension, our conversation flows beautifully. I’d been so afraid that it would be different from our conversations online, more awkward, but it’s just the same, if not even more enjoyable. You are so engaging with your anecdotes and opinions about current events. I’m a rapt audience, responding eagerly to your easy charm. Lunch is delicious, much more so for the company, though the food is superb. When it’s time to pay the tab, I reach for my wallet, but your fingers wrap around my forearm. You smile, your eyes crinkling at the corners. You say, “I don’t let a lady pay.” Your thumb rubs slowly along the inside of my arm, the soft contact lighting up the nerve endings from my fingers clear down to my toes. My entire body is tingling as I look up at you, eyes wide. You’re looking at my lips, and your stare feels like a caress. I draw my lower lip between my teeth and bite down gently, the sensation easing the sudden and reckless desire to feel your lips on mine. Your lips part on a soft intake of breath, the grip you have on my arm tightening just slightly. We stay that way for Erzurum Escort a beat, and I wonder if you’ll lean forward and simply take what you so obviously want. But… we’d agreed. I pull my arm back from your hand, and the spell breaks. You lean back in your stool, momentarily at a loss for words while I rummage in my purse for nothing in particular. I watch out of the corner of my eye as you pull your wallet out, place a few bills with the tab. You still look distracted, lost in your own thoughts, when I sit back up from my search for some self-control. I feel somewhat deflated as I note the slight frown between your eyes, and prepare to go back to my office, even though we’ve only been there for an hour. I swivel my stool so that I can stand, straightening my skirt as I go. The stilletos I’d worn precisely for this lunch meeting now feel silly and uncomfortable on my feet, even if they do make my legs look amazing. I grab up the handles of my purse and prepare to say goodbye. “Well, this has been nice! We should do it again, next time you’re in town.” I hold my hand out to you, waiting for you to shake it so that I can take my growing embarrassment away with me. You look at my hand, then stand up. I drop my hand and take a step back to avoid colliding with you as you straighten to your full, impressive height. “Let me walk you out,” you say, an odd inflection in your tone. You clear your throat, then place a hand at the small of my back and stretch the other one out, inviting me to precede you. The touch at my back is innocent, and yet it burns right through the thin fabric of my silk blouse. My heartbeat kicks up and I take a deep breath as I begin moving to the narrow hall that leads to the lobby and the exit, praying the whole time that I won’t trip in my uber high heels. Your hand stays at my back, and when we get to the deserted hall, I’m forced to move a step or two ahead of you. I feel your fingers trail to my elbow, where you grip and pull me to a stop. The next thing I know, you’ve spun me so my back is against the wall. The hand at my elbow is a strong shackle, while your other hand wraps surely at the flare of my hip, your thumb sliding rhythmically over the waist band of my skirt. My whole body vibrates in arousal as you lean in and hover your lips over mine. I can feel your quick breaths and I sense your internal war as you hold your position. You’re exuding sexual energy, and my body is not immune to it. An involuntary whimper escapes my mouth as you lean your forehead against mine. “I can’t let you go like this. I just can’t,” you say. Your voice is rough, the gravel edge sending shivers down my spine. I swallow involuntarily, trying to work enough saliva into my suddenly dry mouth to respond. “But… we agreed.” My words sound like a lie, as I drop my purse and my hands come up to your chest, crushing the lapels of your beautiful suit. “I know!” The response is explosive, and my body aches to feel you pressed against it. You take several harsh breaths, then continue, “I know, but I can’t let you go. Come up to my room. Please.” This last bit you whisper with your lips at my ear, your moist breath fanning over my sensitive lobe. I don’t have to think about it twice, although perhaps I should. I nod my consent, and my lips brush against that spot beneath your ear that you Erzurum Escort Bayan told me about. The one that devastates you. You moan and I want to wrap myself around you right there. I would have, too, if you hadn’t pulled away. I’m well and truly out of my senses as you bend over to pick up my forgotten purse, then usher me quickly through the lobby and to the elevators. We luck into a waiting car, then stand in silence through the short trip to the 23 rd floor. You still hold my elbow, your fingers tight around the joint. It feels like the most erotic touch anyone has ever laid upon me. When the elevator doors open, you tug me out and down the hall, to a room marked 2314. The key card you produce shakes in your hand slightly as you introduce it into the lock and gain entry. You push the door open, pull me inside, and as the door closes, you turn and press me back against it. You hold yourself away from me, but lean in, your lips again only a breath from mine. I find your tie and wrap it around my hand; you’re now only a tug away from my greedy lips. My conscience gives one last try at stopping the madness, the words tripping over each other as they rush out, “We shouldn’t do this. We can’t do this! My husband, your wife!” Your growl is low, menacing. The sound shoots straight to my core, where a tight ball of need has begun pulsing. Then you become very still, your body vibrating in taught restraint. Your beautiful, desire-darkened eyes look into mine and I feel speared through. I hold my breath as you speak. “Then we’ll just watch.” You lean away from me, then walk backward into the room, your hand finding mine and pulling me with you. I follow where you lead, stopping when you tell me to. The room is well appointed, with a king sized bed, a desk and rolling chair and an upholstered lounge chair. On the opposite wall from the bed is a short bureau with a large, flat screen T.V. on it. You leave me standing at the lower corner of the bed, then walk to the lounge chair. With careless strength, you drag the chair and place it so that it sits between the bed and the bureau, facing the bed. Then you turn back to me, your eyes brazenly raking over my entire form, that hot gaze making me feel self-conscious under your examination. I rub my hands over my pencil skirt, nervous little butterflies flapping their little wings in my stomach again. You say, “Take your clothes off. Slowly.” I’m mortified. I’d never considered doing this for real, letting you actually see my body outside of a chat room window. Our flirting and teasing always had boundaries that we were both careful not to cross, and yet here we are, about to embark on a new and forbidden journey. What if you don’t like my body? What if I fail to please you? Even as I worry over the questions, my fingers go to the first of the buttons on my blouse, your eyes following my movements as if your life depends on it. I grip the little button between thumb and forefinger, then bring my other hand up to hold the silk as I pass the button through the hole. I focus my eyes on my task, unwilling to see even a hint of disappointment in your eyes. Button after button, I finally get to the waist of my skirt. I pull the tails out slowly, then undo the last two buttons. My blouse falls open, revealing a strip of torso from neck to waist, interrupted Escort Erzurum by the forest green lace of my bra. I undo the tiny buttons at my wrists, releasing the fitted long sleeves. As I go to pull the blouse open, you speak. “Stop.” I do and wait, my body trembling with anxiety and arousal. You say, “Look at me as you slide it off. I want to see your eyes.” I take a breath of courage and raise my eyes to yours. My fingers tremble badly as I hold the silk, then slowly pull it off my shoulders and let it fall, to pool in a cloud at my shoes. I watch your eyes go wide as you take in my lace clad breasts, the pretty whorling pattern casting erotic shades over the points of my erect nipples. They aren’t big, or pert, but they ache to be held, and I oblige myself, cupping them in my palms and pinching the stiff nipples between my fingers. Your groan is intoxicating, and I gasp as the manipulation of my fingers sends me spiraling higher than I’ve ever experienced from such a simple caress. You take a step toward me, then stop, your hands curling into tight fists at your sides. “Keep going.” The strain in your voice is evident. I think I’ve figured out what you want. My hands leave my breasts, trailing slowly over the skin of my belly, to the waist of my skirt. The button is in the back, and I make a show of following the thin band to it. I’m enjoying this now, as I feel the heady power of your desire. Before you can even tell me to, I turn to face away from you, so that you can watch as my fingers slowly undo the catch, then the button inside. My body is humming as I slide the zipper quietly down, then my thumbs curl over the band and I bend over at the waist. I slowly pull the skirt over my hips, down my thighs, past my calves, to my heels. I hear you gasp and it makes my insides clench. I guess you weren’t expecting the garter belt. “Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful…” your voice is raw need, and I wonder if we’ll be able to play this game out to the end. I stand up straight again, my hands sliding up the sides of my thighs. I turn to face you, and I know exactly what you see, because I picked it out expressly thinking of you. The little green lace thong I’m wearing doesn’t do very much for modesty, but rather entices the imagination. The stockings and the garter belt are not something I wear regularly, but the fantasy of you enjoying them made me put them on this morning. I finger one of the clasps as I stare back at you, realizing that my fantasy is right here. I step out of my skirt and proceed to take slow, measured steps toward you, loving the way your eyes widen. This is dangerous. At the chair you have repositioned, that you are now standing on the other side of, I step out of first one heel, then the other. My fingers unsnap the clasps on the right stocking, and I use the arm of the chair to prop my foot up. I slowly slide the stocking over my skin, gathering it at my ankle, then pulling it off my foot. I drop it on my shoes, then repeat the process with the left. Finally, I grip the garter belt and tug it past my hips and down my legs, letting it fall to the floor and stepping out of it. I stand there waiting, my entire body silently screaming for me to end this charade and give it what it wants. Your eyes scorch me on their path over my curves, your intent clear in the way you bite your lower lip. You say, “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees, facing away from me.” I obey, looking at you the entire time as I crawl onto the bed, baring my ass to your hungry eyes. You tell me to stop, then to spread my legs out wide. I comply, keenly aware of the soaking wet gusset of my thong.

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