I looked in the mirror as I waited for him to arrive- anxiously fussing over every minute detail. Did my black lace panties cover enough? Was my silky camisole just clingy enough? Did the satin robe disguise that which I didn’t wish to accentuate?
I was prepared to neurotically analyze his every touch, movement and glance. Where did his eyes linger? Why? We as women are experts at the millisecond snap conclusion, whether they were rational or logical conclusions rarely entered into the equation.
Was I not thin enough? Did I really turn him on? Was he fantasizing about someone tighter or sexier? Someone unashamed to greet him at the door not wearing a loosely sashed robe, no matter how alluringly arranged?
I heard his hand on the doorknob and posed enticingly within view.
He gave time to neither analayze nor come to any conclusions- snap or otherwise.
The second he was in the room he slipped his hands beneath my robe and crushed me to him. His lips murmuring soft nothings and his tongue roaming over my ear lobe, my neck, my clavicle…His fingers squeezing my breasts, clutching my hips to his. Were we both naked, he would have been fucking me right there in the hallway.
He tossed away the robe and went back to his explorations- tugging me impatiently towards the bedroom, maneuvering me onto the bed.
I lay on my back and he pulled off his shirt and pants with no care for neatness or concern for how they landed. He climbed up and straddled me, simply looking down – his eyes devouring my nearly naked form. I squirmed with both discomfort at his intense gaze, and with delicious anticipation with what his hands and tongue would do next.
I could see his erection through his shorts, yet I had barely touched him. He claimed to have been thinking of me all day. Of getting home and getting me naked. All he wanted was to run his hands and tongue over every inch of my hot flesh. Just the fantasy of that sustained him through an otherwise tedious afternoon.
Now that the reality was in front of him – my body that he continued to undress as he spoke- he apologised that it would be unlikely that he would be able to take things slow – the first time. However he promised to more than make it up to me the second, third and fourth time.
At that point my insecurities vanished. For one shining moment I saw myself reflected through his eyes. Through his fantasies and his desires. He didn’t see an extra few pounds, an imperfect tan, a misplaced freckle. He saw the true woman in front of him.
A sensual, open, wanton creature. A woman perfectly willing to perform any number of unmentionable acts with him. And that? Is sexy.
Care to read the rest of the group? Find out what sexy things they saw reflected?
And as always, our charming hostess: Kimberly