Picture me, sprawled naked across an enormous bed, a mass of soft, feather pillows raising me up so I may regard my chamber. Massage oil – grapeseed perhaps, rich with extracts of musk and Frankincense and jasmine – flowing from the tapered glass bottle in my trembling hand, a single drop at a time … each semi-viscous droplet running down into the shadows of my cleavage, a fresh trail of glistening dampness left in its wake. I carefully set the bottle down on the bedside table, and then gently cup my breasts in my hands, pressing them together, smearing the oil between them. Finally, I reach out to where you stand beside the bed. You’re utterly naked, and your’ hard cock beckons – begs – for my attention, for my lascivious ministrations. I grasp you with a single hand, drawing you onto the bed with me, over me, drawing your’ thick shaft forward until it lies between my breasts … and then enfold you within my soft, yielding warmth. And without a word, with just the desirous gleam of my eyes, I tell you to thrust, slowly, slowly, so that your’ flesh has time to accept the oil from mine. Anointed, you glide fluently, effortlessly, fucking my cleavage as I hold myself against you, around you, as I brush the pads of my thumbs across the crowns of my bullet-hard nipples, making myself gasp with drawn-out delight. Throughout, I control your’ pace with only my gaze … until you’re trembling above me, until you can’t take the slow pace, the focused deliberation any longer, until the relics of your’ self-control lie shredded and torn about you, and you begin to thrust greedily, oh so greedily, fucking my softness, watching my wanton eyes at the very moment that yours are forced shut, as your shaft pulses and throbs, your seed erupting in thick streams that inundate my cleavage, coating my breasts, splashing across my throat. Lie there, and feel the blood coursing through you, hear your ragged breathing begin to subside. Breathe in the bittersweet tang of your cum all over me.
MMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMMM
Sounds like fun doesnt it.
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