The door clicks as the key slides into the security slot. I push it open and usher you inside the suite, dimly lit by the city lights and the full moon reflecting off the still-fresh blanket of snow that blankets the city. The drapes stand fully open, allowing a soft, bluish cast to settle around us.
Your hand gripping mine, I use it as leverage to turn you and pull you to me as the door closes with a deep thud. Just us now, both slightly disheveled, our clothes not quite hanging right on our bodies.
Neither of us cares. We are in our space now.
Just two steps and your body is back against mine. Our fingers unlace. Our hands are at our sides, touching neither ourselves nor one another. But our lips dance a slow, probing, erotic dance. Eyes open, our heads turn to make every touch of our lips a perfect touch. That always happens. It happened the first kiss. It has happened every kiss since.
Tongues tangle in a sensual twirl that causes our bodies to press together even tighter while our hands remain unoccupied. We have created a sexually-charged, intimate space. We are breathing one another's breath.
No, this is not urgency. This is slowly building to another boiling release of carnal ecstasy. It has been an evening of sexual taunting and it isn't over.
Our breathing is audible, as are our kisses. Our kisses are controlled. Our breathing isn't.
You press into me. I press back. You press me harder against the door, your right leg pressing between my slightly-parted legs. You straddle my leg, your hips engaging in a deliberate, hot grind against my thigh as our kissing becomes deeper and longer. In the first movement of either of our hands, you move the hem of your dress above your thighs. The material bunches in clenched fists as you push your smooth, dripping pussy against the fabric of my pants. In the dim light of the room, I cannot see your sex, but the heat sears through the cloth onto my thigh. I press my leg slightly forward to meet your gyrations.
You groan deep into our kiss, bite my lower lip with some intent, then slowly lay your head back with your eyes up but focused on nothing but the steamy, exquisite lust between your legs. Your chest heaves your cleavage skyward. Your knees bend to bring your crotch sliding down my pants leg, leaving your slick scent mark. You move no more than a few inches before straightening your legs and pressing back up, adding to the wet trail.
Lost in this movement, you are. Lips slightly parted, your eyes affixed to infinity. You inhale and exhale slow, but deep. Your breathing matches the grinding you continue with abandon and purpose.
My hands push back against the door to steady me. To steady us. I am content to let you continue this dance. It affords -- even in the dim light of the room -- a most exquisite view of you surrendering to your most primal sexual urges. I am a willing participant, but for the moment, I feel like a lecherous voyeur. My body aches for more, but my mind tells me to allow you this transparent foreplay. The reward will be worth the wait. My cock strains for release. Just inches from it is your dripping, throbbing pussy. My cock will wait.
When my leg is thoroughly soaked, your hands release your dress. But you continue to grind, though not quite as deliberately. Your hands find the upper lapels of my jacket and lift them upward and out so it falls off my shoulders and onto the floor between the door and my heels. My shirt is next. Red-tipped fingers undo a single button at the time, starting at the top and working down. The shirt joins the jacket. You insist my t-shirt be gone, too, as you lift it over my head and toss it aside.
Your hands go back to the hem of your dress, lifting it again as you revert back to the fervent grinding of earlier. The only difference? Now your eyes are locked on mine. You are biting your bottom lip.
Then the determined gyration of your hips slows to an eventual halt.
You step back, still holding your dress hem up around your hips, and slowly squat in front of me. What I think is going to happen...doesn't.
Instead, you close your eyes, lean forward slightly, and oh so slowly lick the length of the trail of your arousal that saturates the thigh of my pants leg. A soft moan escapes your lips as you savor you.
Then you stand again. Every movement is slow, deliberate, but instinctive. There is no thought to your actions. At least not right now. This is primal impulse.
Your eyes lock onto mine as you turn your back to me, looking over your shoulder as you finally face the wide window and the nighttime in front of you.
I look down. Your tantalizing ass is fully exposed, the hem of your dress perfectly framing every curve. Impeccable planning, or happy accident, it is a sublimely delicious visual.
Your head turns back forward and you step back to straddle my leg again. Your ass settling down onto the warm wet.
Leaning back into me, your head eases back onto my shoulder and your hands drop straight to your cheeks, spreading them wide as your knees bend and you begin the slide and grind again. Movements are firm and short. That deep cleft becoming slick.
I can only watch in wonder. My hands continue to steady us.
Your head turns. You softly bite me on the neck. There is an accompanying moan.
Then your head is up. You step forward off my leg. Then step back between my legs.
Your fingers dig into your ass flesh, pressing it around my cock's stiff trouser silhouette. Your hips press back. My hips press forward. Your back arches into that seductive curve.
This time it is I who moans. Maybe we both do. This is the first time you have touched my cock since we entered the room.
My hands finally give up their job of steadying us.
The right one tangles quickly in the back of your hair. The left slides around and cups your chin. They both force your head back a little roughly and turn it to face mine. Your neck strains as we kiss. Hard. Deep. Wet.
