HNT – On Display

My mouth was dry. My shirt fell to the floor.

Turn.

One quarter turn to the right, lengthen the spine, flex the leg. I stretch out my curves – arms at my sides – and your eyes trace them. Appraise them.

I know why I’m here. You’re just here to look. If I’m not good enough – if I don’t measure up – I won’t get touched, no, not right where it throbs.

I won’t get to touch you.

My hands curve reflexively and I want to feel your skin stretch and firm against my palm. I want to put on a show, but I can’t. You said no. I’m on display.

The skirt. Off.

Your commands are bitten off, but the edge in your voice is husky, not sharp. I reach back, pull down my zipper. I tug the black pleated skirt below my hips and feel it slide down over my stockings.

I step out. I keep my heels on.

Now the bra. Turn around, I want to see you.

Oh gods I’m wet and you’re right there and I hadn’t seen you before not like this and my nipples are hard and pink and there are goosebumps on my skin and I kept my garter belt on and I’m not wearing any panties and I’m wet and you’re right here…

One quarter turn to the right. I hesitate. You touch my cheek.

Then my face.

The landing strip follows the line of my garters and your eyes follow the line of the landing strip. You’re tracing my verticals and I want to taste you, horizontal. I wet my lips.

Spread your legs for me. Just enough.

You’re such a tease. Breath on the back of my neck, your lips not touching me. The whispering of your rough fingerpads along my satin garter straps but not my skin. My thighs apart just enough for you to slide your hand between, draw a finger from my plump ass to my eager clit. (You tell me you will, if I…) Enough to feel the heat of your cock brush against my ass right at that downcurving detour line, then bob away.

‘Enough.’

‘Please.’

I can’t tell if I whisper the words or yell them, if I said them out loud or mouthed them as I arched my hips back and raised my ass in a primal wordless invitation.

Your smooth rounded head slides along my slit so easily, pushes apart my pouty lips so that they straddle your shaft. You grip my hips. Fingers. Digging into skin. Sliding agains skin. Stop. Teasing. Me.

You work my pussy over with the length of your cock, making me whimper, quiver, beg. I’m feeling every inch of you but not where I need to and I’m grinding that aching pink emptiness – I’m grinding my cunt down against your cock so tightly you can feel me clenching and unclenching, shivering and waiting. Slide back. Slide up. Slide in.

One slow push and I half-scream.