As soon as the bell rings, I feel the usual rush that pulls my lips into forming a sly grin. Finally, my parcel has arrived!

Having a thing for lingerie, now and then, I treat myself to some sexy, enticing, or rip-me-off-and-do-your-worse outfit.

I love the colours, the patterns and especially, the textures of the fabric; the way it clings to my body with that illusory sense of coverage; the hotness that starts radiating from the wettest depths of my pussy when I start planning how to christen every new piece.

The clock on the wall warns me I have a little less than an hour before you get home—preparation time is essential.

After an extra moistening shower, I dab some delicate essential oil on my neck, wrists, and inner thighs, which inevitably ends up blending with my own scent before I'm done.

Next, I go to the fridge for a tasty surprise I think we both will enjoy: a dash of homemade ginger liquor, flavoured with a cinnamon stick, smeared over my tits. Oh, the coldness of the liquid against my nipples sends shivers down my spine, which soon turns into increasingly intense pulses on my clit while I circle my areolas as they harden and wrinkle. Smelling the citric spiciness on me gets me so hot!

Time is running out, so I slide down the blue-laced basque - a bit tight on the girls, to be honest, but I know you won't complain. I allow myself a moment of utter self-indulgence here. What is so enthralling about lingerie? It makes me feel like a sexy gift waiting to be unwrapped.

Reaching down to my nightstand drawer, I look for the special guest of the night, the jewelled butt plug that I - make that we - love so much, which happens to match the shade of the lace. The heat emanating from between my legs is irresistible; I can't help but let two fingers drown in my soaking cunt. 

Fuck, I am so horny it's unbearable. As I finger myself, the smell of my wantonness invades our bedroom. It is intoxicating. I desperately need to have a taste… mmm; I am so damn close! Using my juices as lube, I rim and then feed my hungry ass with our shiny friend.

The second I slip the skimpy thong that completes the set and the straps clench on my hips, I hear you turning the key in the front door.

Without making a sound, I get on my knees, bottoms up, right over the edge of our bed, and there I wait.

Yearning.

Ready.

ooOoo

I just see blue. Rays of bright, vivid blue light invade my eyes, and a lascivious leer, born in the gutter, creeps onto my face.

I must have admired your jewel for some time because I become aware of your breathing in what otherwise is stoned silence. Your lush bottom looks mouth-watering, as always. The basque and scanty knickers are so exceptionally you. Your cheekily-pretended subservient manner, waiting for me to say something or to make a move, only makes you look more seductive, more alluring, more fuckable. You ooze sex appeal.

I hear faint sighs of anticipation and I know that you can sense my presence. 

I can feel my organ twitching and my lips quivering in what I know are lustful thoughts as I slowly unzip my trousers, unleashing the monster that lies within. I let it loose on the understanding that it will have to hold up.

You wait patiently for my approach; after all, you are owed several orgasms from the illicit, ravenous blowjob I woke up to early this morning. I love it when you serve yourself breakfast in bed.

Your bum calls out to me in ways that melt my resolve and ideas of utter debauchery are let loose on the fleshy length that stiffens in my hand as I lean towards your jewel and lick it. My tongue laps all over the crystal surface and your rounded bottom, peppered with goosebumps, glistens in the reflected light. My lips and then teeth grasp your gem and I tug at it, slowly pulling out and then pushing it back in a few times, making you moan before removing it completely. The thin fabric of your thong is no match for my oral dexterity.

My nostrils flare with your heady scent and my hard member aches and throbs, knowing its turn is getting closer.

Along with the delicious plop, I hear you gasp loudly. Your whimpers spur me on. My inadequate thumb replaces your plug and my fingers flick over your juiced-up folds, thrusting in and out of your slickness before sliding forward to excite your tender nub. 

It's satisfying to be rewarded by the moans and groans of a confident woman who lives for pleasure, and the way you so wantonly react to my probing fingers is reassuring. Fingers that are coated with your sticky fluids; fingers that beg to be sucked, crying out to be tasted. It could have been your mouth, but I choose mine, and with my other hand as support, I dip my engorged rod into your pussy and thrust a few times, making sure it gets thoroughly glazed with your lubing juices before moving onto your other hole, the one starving after being left empty by the fleck of blue glass which now lies abandoned between your legs.

Guttural groans reverberate throughout the room as my cock slides past your thin blue lace. Silence abandoned in favour of pleasure—for both of us. Your tight ass catches me unaware and my sensitivity gives in, powerless against the sudden onrush of our pending orgasms as I gather up your hair in one fist and the base of your basque in the other.

It doesn't take long, but when our eyes connect in that narrow strip of mirrored glass, nothing ever does.