THE AFTER DANCE
It was a lovely early evening of dancing and cocktails. We didn't eat a full meal, just a few appetizers, and then we left early. I couldn't understand why John wanted to leave so early. I was having fun. The live music was great and being guided around the dance floor by John's strong arms, having him spin me away, then pull me back to him. It was getting me wet. Now we're going home and the evening is still so young!
The car jostles me about in my seat as we navigate the windy road up to the house. Why are we so isolated here anyway? Oh yes, I enjoy the birds singing in the trees each season of the year. And the quiet contemplation away from the hordes of humans always wanting something from me on a daily basis. Ah, to be alone with my own thoughts just for an hour every now and then. That is why we live here.
I glance over at John. His face is still set in the 'dance mode' character. Revealing nothing of his emotions or desires. I know he is aroused, and yet his features tell nothing. Maddening. He is concentrating on driving, keeping us safe. Animals can come out of the woods suddenly and hitting a deer, raccoon or skunk is not a pleasant experience. And dangerous for us as well. I admire his conscience attention to the task at hand. He is so good at that. Even in bed. Oh yes, very conscience of what he is doing to me in bed and how it is making me feel as he does it. Bastard can make me crazed with desire and just keep denying me release until he wants me to cum. His way, his timing, his command. Just like dancing, leading me to where he wants me to go.
We arrive at the house. The car slowly ascends up the driveway. The garage doors open at our approach, recognizing our vehicle's electronic signature. He parks the car, shuts off the ignition. We look at each other, smile. Slowly he leans across the seats and plants a soft kiss below my ear. Then leaves his lips just hovering there, over my skin. His breath on the place he just kissed. The rhythm of his breathing in my ear. Just waiting. The anticipation of what he will do or say is making my breath quicken. Are we going to do it in the car?
"Did you enjoy yourself tonight?" he breaths slowly in my ear. Shivers go through my body. I am afraid to break the spell, and just nod my approval, yes.
"Hmmm. Well, my dear, now I want to enjoy you tonight." And with that his hand comes up, holds my chin, turns my face toward his own. Claims my mouth. Ardent. Hard. Demanding.
Crap, now I'm certain we're going to do it in the car.
For several minutes we kiss. All kinds of kisses. Soft, slow, long, fast, hard, deep, grazing kisses. And all he ever touches is my hair, face, neck. Traces his finger around my ear. Tugs my earlobe. Blows on my skin.
Ahhhh.
Now he undoes my coat. Pushes it open, revealing my heaving chest. Oh yes, I am panting. He's got my adrenaline going now. He has a plan alright. Now he's going to play with me, I know it.
I am wearing a wrap dress, the one that ends just below my knees. He doesn't like men admiring too much that which is his. I can dress in a manner that pleases him, but not so provocative that it draws leering stares from other men. He doesn't like their eyes on my ivory skin. Precious ivory. He prefers only his eyes on my skin, only his hands feeling the smooth texture. He knows ivory is in demand and the high price it can command. This ivory skin is his, and no one is going to enjoy it except him.
"I notice that tonight you wore the wrap dress that shows the shape of your body, the heft of your breasts, but little skin, and no cleavage. You did it to please me, didn't you?"
"Yes," I confessed. I knew he would like it.
He now kisses my neck as my head lolls about on my shoulders. Mmmm.
He tugs at the bow of my wrap dress. It comes undone, his fingers plucking at it, pulling the ties apart and opening up the dress. I am wearing a bustier underneath. With garters and stockings. I notice his pupils dilate. Oh yes, he certainly approves.
His hand strokes my flesh just below the lower edge of the bustier. I am wearing a lace tanga panty, and the garters are attached to the bustier. Lace tops on the stockings give a very nice overall effect. Stunning. I know.
"Hmmm," he purrs. "I want you out of that dress. Come on, off with it."
He puts his hands under the shoulders of the dress and pushes backwards, runs his hands down my arms and over my hands. The coat and dress are pooled around my waist now. I am now in undergarments and heels.
He admires me. Just looks. Says nothing. His use of silence is effective. Makes me nervous. More adrenaline pumps into my system.
His arm goes behind me, around my back. His hand cups the side of my far breast, his lips graze the top of the other breast.
"Lovely tits. My tits." he murmurs. "I want to play with my tits for awhile. You just sit back and relax."
Holy. This will make me nuts. He uses the word tits when he is lustful. He knows I prefer breasts. I hope he doesn't keep at me for twenty minutes like last time. I was so sensitive afterwards. He does like to nibble and pull on the nipples with his teeth. Tries to make them longer over time. It seems to be his hobby. I remember the mention of nipple rings, but I haven't seen them yet. Don't want to bring the subject up either.
It starts with the pulling down of the bra cups. Always the same, except when he decides to bite through the fabric and salivate on the cups until they're soaking wet. This is an expensive set of lingerie however, and I feel he wants me to wear it often. He actually is showing reverence for the garment, not his usual style. Most times he doesn't care about my clothing, just that it is in the way of his goals. Good thing he can afford to replace them.
After ten minutes I am blessed with the cessation of all his nipple and breast activities. Whew. He gently adjusts the bra cups to cover
his
tits. My clit must be huge after being bombarded with so many electrical shocks from the breasts being stimulated. Over and over and over again. Doesn't his tongue ever get tired?
"Well, after that I certainly am thirsty. How about you my dear? I had the help set up the back gazebo with refreshments and a relaxing environment. Let's go now. You stay seated. I'll get the door for you."
Geesh. Will the help still be around? Watching? Not that he would care. He ignores them as they go about their chores. But he does treat them well financially. Even a health care plan. Nobody ever leaves of their own will from his employ. But he does fire incompetent people. Rarely happens, but it does happen.
The car door opens, and I put my two legs out, reach behind me for my dress.
"No, no my dear. Leave the dress. You will walk with me to the gazebo as you are."
"In lingerie?" I gasp. Okay, we can't be seen by the neighbors, but won't it be cold amongst the trees, in the dark?
"Anna, I will take care of you. You will see. Just walk with me...now."
Uh oh.
The now word. His lips together, stern face, eyes glaring at me, hand outstretched.
I take his hand, he pulls me up. We walk out of the garage's side door, and head towards the rear of the house. Towards the gazebo.
What is this?
It is set up like a festive scene from the Arabian Nights. Long colorful flowing saris hanging from the beams. Soft middle eastern music playing on surround sound speakers placed around the site. A plethora of pillows of different shapes, sizes and colors scattered on the floor and around benches. This is quite amazing.
