You drop your coat on the back of the couch, and kick out of your heels. Dinner was divine, and the show was fabulous... but you are tired. I had a fabulous time in your company tonight, but I admit I am tired, too. And yet, your simple, easy grace with the simplest gesture - letting your hair down - catches my eye, and I catch my breath: you happen to be facing away, silhouetted by the dim light from the kitchen, and as you reach up with both hands to unfasten your hair clip, you are momentarily statuesque. A goddess. My Venus. And my fatigue dissipates, and my desire takes root...
I step up behind you, and place my hands on your hips, smoothing out the soft wool of your pencil skirt. You lean back slightly, and the cool silk of your blouse grazes my chest. I hug you from behind, and you cling to my arms and pull them around you firmly, as if you have a chill and need my warmth... but as I start to nuzzle the nape of your neck, and my hand lightly caresses your breasts, I feel your warmth... and know that you crave my touch as much as I crave to touch you.
Up to your collar then traveling down the placket of your blouse, my fingers in turn release each button - you still facing away from me. When you reach to help, I catch your hands, and wordlessly implore: "allow me this tender treat... to undress you slowly... and to reveal your body to the cool air, and to the warmth of my strong hands." Understanding fully, you wordlessly grant my request.
I unzip your skirt, and as it and your blouse fall away, you turn to kiss me. We drink deeply of each other's lips, and we are lost in each other. Lost, in a moment of bliss, of complete connection, of passion. I feel your breasts pressed in to me through the thin fabric of your lacy bra, my hands cup your ass through the lace of the matching panties, and I guide your hips into mine. Your hands furiously undo my shirt and belt, as our lovely tender kiss morphs into something lusty... and hungry. I squeeze your ass cheeks as our tongue continue to dance and dart after each other... your hand soon slips to my crotch where you find my member, full, and straining against the fabric of my shorts.