It is our mind and senses that transport us.
Your powerful masculinity stands before me – perfect tailored, everything coordinated beautifully and in place except for a large bulge forming within the inseam of your pants.
A motion to step forward. Less than an inch away you stand. The tips of your wingtips are smiling up at me. I inhale deeply without touching you. The starched cotton and clean smell of the soap you washed with that morning, tingling my olfactory nerve.
My cheek finds your inner thigh. The fabric of your suit is like silk against my skin. My eyes close and I imagine you getting dressed that morning, deliberately choosing your outfit knowing we would meet. You place my fingers on your zipper. I hear the “zipping” and your pants fall away to your ankles. On my knees, your calf hair tickles against my face, a reminder of your rugged masculinity.
We move into the bathroom so I can bathe you. Red rose petals adorn the surface. A spicy, citrus scent fills the air from the candle that burns slowly. The champagne, standing on attention in ice, chills patiently. No bubbles. I want to see and feast with you in your natural state. First, I need to relax you. Patience, grasshopper.
Your lips beg for my attention. I know better than to kiss them. Instead, I hold the crystal up to them and watch as the cold, bubbly liquid slithers down your throat. I fixate on your adam’s apple as you swallow. My legs then wrap around your neck. I let the warm water grace your chest and trickle over your nipples. I lather your head of hair. Every moment feels like we are frozen in time. The silence between is palpable and yet harmonious. A symphony of ecstasy composed with every slow caress.
In this tub you are completely mine. There has been no sexual advances made from either of us. The pleasure of the senses and the mind are all we need in this moment….
Music mood: Lana Del Rey: “Burning Desire”
your kinky courtesan xx