"Cynthia, you certainly enjoyed yourself tonight," I said as we got back to our hotel room from the party. "You must have hardened every cock there tonight at least twice."
"It was fun. That crowd needs a little livening up," Cynthia replied laughing, a bit tipsy from champagne.
"Still, dancing a bit too close to your partners, smoldering glances with those eyes of yours, double entendre, being a bit too touchy-feely to pass off on casual party contact. You might have pushed the envelope a bit too far tonight, Kitten."
"Yes, but it is your hard cock I've come home with."
"Oh, I don't object to your flirting, Kitten. In fact, knowing that it will be me who will be filling your body at the end of the night increases my excitement when I see the hunger in the other men's eyes. But tonight, right now, you are going to provide a show for me."
She looked at me questioningly, eyebrow arched. "What is it you want, Charles? What do you really want? Because I'll do it for you, but you need to tell me."
"Stay right there. Don't move," I told her. I turned off all of the lights, one by one, slowly plunging the room into darkness. The lights from the city through the sheer curtain covering the window provide the only light. I slowly walk back to the overstuffed chair facing the center of the room and the bed. Cynthia has stood still throughout, not moving anything but her head, watching me walk around the room. I sit, lean over and pour myself a scotch, and loosen my tie.
Cynthia stands stock still, staring at me. I take a sip of the single malt scotch, and set the glass down with a clink. I reach up, and tilt the table lamp down on its side, the light bulb aiming through the top of the shade. I flick the light switch, and the effect is to illuminate Cynthia in a baby spotlight.
Ah, Cynthia. Sweet, smart, and oh so sexy, Cynthia. Her auburn hair is pulled up on her head. Her pale skin gleams in the soft light of the bulb. Her little black dress clings to her sumptuous curves. The dress ends just above the knee, giving way to her spectacular long legs, encased in black stockings. Her heels complete the picture, though she has been complaining all night about how they are uncomfortable. While I empathize, they have also been causing my cock to press painfully against my suit pants tonight. And, as discussed above, mine was not the only one in that state.
"Baby, take off that pretty dress. I want to see what you've been hiding all night," I ask in a polite, but firm manner.
Cynthia is on to the game, and the glimmer in her eyes tells me this will be a wild night.
Cynthia reaches back to unzip her dress, and shimmies out of it, shaking those enticing hips too and fro as she does. Her eyes remain pinned to mine. The dress falls to an inky pool at her feet. Her right foot kicks the dress aside.
She stands before me in the spotlight wearing only her stockings, black lacy panties and black bra, her legs accentuated by her heels.
"Your bra, Cynthia. I want to see those lovely breasts."
The bra clasps in front. Her hands go, almost shyly to the clasp, and it releases. She looks me in the eye, holding the bra together, hesitating to show me. I nod, and her hands separate. Cynthia's breasts escape their confines. The nipples are hard, the aureolas shadowing the nipple. The bra falls to the floor, and Cynthia looks to me for guidance.
I rise, and take two steps towards her. We are both in the spotlight now. Cynthia's eyes lock on mine as I lean forward and kiss her deeply. I move my mouth lower, and suckle first one nipple then the other. I take two steps back and look at her nipples gleaming in the spotlight.
