Her tremble meets his once palms, fingers, tips finally make contact, once they finally run over the deep filigree band of ivory lace, his sensual touch teasing its limits, her borders, tracing the line of the suspender belt, the swell of her abdomen, the curve of her hips as he slowly descends the straps drawn so very tight, his hands slipping slowly between her thighs, inside the tops of her tan stockings, his hands caressing, stroking, taking in the transition between nylon and her bare warmth, his hands drinking in her fair skin, committing to memory her femininity, his fingers drawing their aching design on her soft sweet glistening flesh.
FOLLOW THE MINX
Tis I who trembles now CM.. Drinking in your fair skin, drunk on the vision created within this verse.
Idle hands, devils work.
oh to feel this tremble under painted finger tips. Under mink blankets, and until the wee hours of the morning.
I'm yours…
i feel it.
I tremble still at the thought of your touch, of our touch, of our union. I recall very fondly, the removal of lace, of nylon, of inhibition. My memory will be forever burned with the image sensual, erotic, feminine. The feeling of your sweet and glistening flesh haunts me, as do so many of the memories I have of you.
both.hands.please: This is exactly how I want you, bhp. Intoxicated, trembling, ready to make that devil's work…
Soul Knight: What a perfectly delicious picture you paint, sir…
max: I'm glad to hear it. Very glad, in fact…
Anon: Just as you haunt me…