Red Lips…
We search out quite places to whisper dirty thoughts and kiss. I watch as she raises the wine glass to red lips and find the imprint she leaves erotic.
We search out quite places to whisper dirty thoughts and kiss. I watch as she raises the wine glass to red lips and find the imprint she leaves, erotic.
She asks me if I like the colour and smiles knowingly when I say I do. She says it is from a make-up artist to the stars, and she likes this particular shade — she then asks if she can mark me and kisses my cheek. In response, I raise my glass and make a toast to her new colour. We laugh to the sound of crystal.
She carries a lipstick case and mirror she picked up at a vintage store and is always quick to check that her lips are perfect— that is, until she kisses me on the cheek.
I shift closer and move to taste her lips. As I pull back, her taste is on my lips and I ask how I look — she laughs, says something about sexy, and we passionately come together. Our tongues explore each other’s mouths and she playfully shares her lipstick which I hungrily accept. She pulls away slightly and looks at me and shifts to kiss my neck; her kisses are soft and gentle, and I can feel the red.
I whisper, “More”.
She breaks away and reaches for her vintage case. As I sip my wine, I watch her apply lipstick without any care. She takes a sip of her wine and moves to kiss me hard. I place my hands on each side of her head and hold her in place as we lose ourselves in the kiss.
When our lips part, she says she wants to look; after a moment, she whispers how it’s perfect — like a work of art. She tells me she has no panties on and wants me to make her lips red.
In this quiet place, she moves to the next able, sits on it, and while shifting her skirt, spreads her legs.
W
As much a matter of fantasy as fact…
Although you are by no means inhibited, your amorous adventures are as much a matter of fantasy as fact.
You claim to be a realist or even a cynic, but you are more emotional, romantic, and truthful. Although you are by no means inhibited, your amorous adventures are as much a matter of fantasy as fact.
She laughs as she reads the results of the quiz I’d just taken; more from the look on my face than the answer itself. Leaving no room for discussion, she asks me to share a fantasy —
“You would be relaxing and engrossed in one of your trashy erotic novels when I interrupt and ask if I could paint your nails red, and then with our favourite lube, have you slowly and agonizingly caress my cock until I cum. I want to beg for you to release me and watch my cum spill over your freshly painted red nails — I don’t want to be released from my ecstasy and agony until you are satisfied I have given you all my cum.”
W
Image Carol Oliver Unsplash
harder; softer; slower; faster
I would slowly make my way around your panties, eventually remove them, until there was nothing between my tongue and your clit. With only those words to guide me and my desire to pleasure you, I would have my way.
Eventually the curiosity got the better of her and she asked what was in the paper bag. She had resisted the temptation for a while but we both know she likes my gifts. I reached down and lifted the bag by its handles and set it on the table; reaching inside, I pulled out a box wrapped with a red paper and accented with a white bow. I moved the bag off the table and placed the gift beside the bottle of wine we had opened earlier.The light from the small candle reflected off the paper as she reached for it; she silently mouthed thank you. I encouraged her to open it as I reached for my wine and sat back to watch.
Disregarding my encouragement she studied the bow, the tight corners of the wrapping and the seams; her eyes tightened ever so slightly with curiosity. I watched her bring her glass to her lips, hesitate for a moment, and then take a sip. Setting the glass back down and leaving another soft lipstick impression, she reached for the package. She methodically removed the bow and with great concentration removed the tape without ripping the paper; there was a grace in her methodical approach. With the paper carefully folded on the table, she opened the box and pulled out an hourglass with black sand. She inspected it carefully with bright eyes and waited for an explanation.
“It’s for a game we can play. It’s called harder, softer, slower, faster. The game starts when you flip the hourglass.”
Her eyes shifted from the hourglass, and as she started to smile, she whispered, “Go on.”
“Well; you would be in a very comfortable position with only your favourite panties on surrounded and propped up with all those pillows you seem to like; you can even have a glass of wine in hand. You can only say four words until the sands run out; harder; softer; slower; faster”.
There was a hint of anxiousness as she raised the glass to her mouth and whispered, “Please continue.”
“For my part, I would start with a simple kiss on your lips and then slowly and methodically make my way over your breasts, your stomach and would part your legs every so gently until my tongue gently caressed your pussy through the fabric of your panties. I would slowly make my way around your panties and eventually remove them until there was nothing between my tongue and your clit. With only those words to guide me and a desire to pleasure you, I would have my way”.
When I looked at her, she was staring at me with glass in hand and said, “That’s a fucking great game; we should try out my new hourglass”
She stood up, picked up the hourglass and moved to the bedroom motioning me to follow. As I stood, I realized there was also a symbolism in the hourglass; I knew it was soon time for her to find her way, and sadly, knew her way would not include me.
Until that day, I would enjoy savouring her taste with hopes she remembers me with fondness.
W