She waited for Him by the door that bitterly cold winter evening, dressed only in black lace–top thigh–high stockings, a black lace balcony bra two cup sizes too small for her DDs, and the robe to her black lace peignoir. She stood at the window, fidgeting as she watched for Him, caressing and squeezing her breasts, reaching down to check that her cunt was wet and hot, anxiously waiting for the moment when all the sexual tension and frustration of the last month they'd been parted would be eased by His warm, thick, stiff cock, and His skilled fingers and lips. She had been in a state of constant arousal for the past week, and no amount of masturbating or telephone sex with Him had eased the tension. She needed Him.
She groomed herself carefully for this evening, bathing and dressing with all the attention to detail of a woman so tightly wound with need and lust that she feared she would shatter from the strain. She shaved her legs and outer labia, but left the thatch of coarse, springy hair at the apex of her thighs natural, and smoothed her skin with perfumed body oil, only allowing herself to masturbate (but not cum) once during her ablutions. She sat, naked except for the stockings, at her dressing table, twisting and pinching the nipples she had darkened with self–tanner as she pinned up her hair in a style that would be easily pulled down, applying only such make–up as would stand up to the activity she anticipated for the evening ahead. Reaching for a crystal perfume bottle, she carefully applied the scent behind her ears, at the hollow of her throat, across each breast just above the areola, along the top edge of her muff, behind her knees, at her wrists. Places she hoped He would explore as He satisfied her craving of Him as much as she satisfied His need and want and lust for her.
Finally, she saw Him as He rounded the corner of the block, and she opened the front door to Him, the blast of frigid air of that bleak January further tightening her already–rigid nipples and cooling the flush of arousal that blushed across her face and breasts. She stood framed in the doorway, heedless that anyone else might see her, her thoughts and behavior centered only on Him. He took the last few steps up to the door two at a time and, with a last shiver from the wind that whistled around the frozen landscape, entered the house and wrapped Himself in her warm, soft, perfumed embrace. After a slow, warming, welcoming kiss she removed His woolen scarf, leather coat and gloves, and took His hand to draw Him further into the room, closer to the flames – the flicker of the candles scattered about the room, the logs burning in the fireplace, and the heat of her passion.
Lacing His fingers through hers, He drew her hand up to His lips and kissed the inside of her wrist, licking gently, and then crossed her arm behind her around the small of her back, pulling her back into His embrace as He buried His free hand in the silk of her hair, disturbing the hair pins and sending them pinging to the floor. He nuzzled His chin into the soft, scented, exquisitely sensitive spot just below her ear, the bristle of His five-o'clock beard razoring across that tender flesh as He seared a trail of hot, wet kisses down her throat and across her shoulder. She shivered and moaned softly, trying to straddle His hips as they stood, her belly drawing tighter as she threaded the fingers of her free hand through His cold hair. He crowded her closer, curving His spine in order to keep as much body contact as possible while He dragged His face across her breasts, backing her up, eventually pinning her between the cold plaster of the exterior wall and the hot length of His highly charged, heavily aroused body. He teased her with His lips as He lightly brushed them back and forth across hers – feathery kisses that never fully made contact – while the fingers of His left hand stroked her cheek, her lips, her eyes, gliding across her collarbone and around her shoulder. A fingertip slid inside the edge of the cups of her over–full bra, flicking her already taut, aching nipples and then across the swell of each soft, pillowy breast, His lips trailing after His fingers, kissing and licking and nibbling everywhere His finger had touched. Another soft moan escaped from her lips, goading Him into kissing them with the intensity of a drowning man – a man drowning in the scent and feel and sight of the woman He had been without for the past month – His tongue demanding entry into her mouth, thrusting and withdrawing in a imitation of mating, claiming her and tasting her and driving up the level of desire for both of them.
Breaking away from that incendiary kiss with a gasp, she took a ragged breath and pushed Him away, sliding around Him, pressing her breasts and thighs and hands against Him as she went, leading Him with a smile to the place she had prepared for them in front of the fire. The enormous sheepskin rug was there to cushion and warm the hardwood floor, providing space for them to enjoy each other, while a basket of body oils, blindfolds, cuffs, cock rings, dildoes, and clamps – anything that might appeal to Him in the pleasuring of Himself and her – also stood close at hand. Pillows and quilts were ready, and a chiller of champagne was positioned at the head of the rug along with two glasses, although she doubted she would need anything more intoxicating than the sight and sound and smell and feel of Him this night. She felt light–headed already just from His kisses and caresses; she didn't need alcohol.
As they walked by the leather wing–back chair, she pressed Him into the seat, and crouched at His feet, removing His shoes and socks, and then rose to her knees to slowly unbutton His shirt, drawing the tail slowly out of His trousers, tugging a little more firmly as it tangled with His hardening cock. As she slipped the shirt off of His shoulders, He reached for her, His hands caressing her bound breasts on the way to sliding her robe off her shoulders and pushing it to the floor, where it landed with a soft Hiss. She rose, standing between His legs, her hands roaming over His chest and ribs and belly, and bent over Him to kiss the hollow of His throat and nibble along His jaw line, her lips finally covering His in a kiss laden with need and passion. He reached up and grasped and squeezed and caressed her breasts, using His fingernails to scratch at the engorged nipples through the delicate lace, each breast too large, even bound as they were, for Him to completely enclose in His grasp, and then slipped His hands around her back and released the hooks of the bra. Her breasts tumbled out of the restriction as He eased the fabric from her body, the shear weight of them as they struck His chest surprising and arousing Him as always, the darkened nipples so hard and erect they might have been locked in nipple clamps.
