I look into your eyes. I smell the whiskey on your breath. You might be just tipsy enough to enjoy what’s coming next.
“Well I’m going to have to close the windows for your present…”
“Fine by me!” You lean back, putting your hands behind your head, and crossing one leg on your knee.
A few months ago, we watched a few tutorials on how to do a strip tease. We had laughed so hard we cried, practicing in front of the TV to 90’s R&B. We hadn’t talked about it since then. But I rewatched the tutorials last week. I didn’t practice much, because doing a strip tease for myself in the mirror was… Weird. But I hoped you’d appreciate the effort, anyways. Maybe you’d be too distracted by the lacy things I was wearing to notice how terrible the dance was.
I ordered a set in your favorite color on me–black. It’s a full set: push up bra, garter belt and fishnet stockings, and a teeny tiny G-string. I’m wearing it all under a pretty nondescript t-shirt and jeans (hence your confusion) to heighten the surprise.
I close the blinds, and turn on the closest lamp. I put on Plaza’s “All Mine,” and start swaying to the beat. I start with some of the choreography from the tutorial, which you instantly recognise. You smile, but I chastise you: “Don’t laugh! This is a *serious* strip tease!”
“Let’s make it a lap dance,” you suggest, patting your hands on your legs. I graciously comply, backing myself onto your lap. You stick your hands up my shirt. “Hey, what’s that?” You excitedly start pulling up my top to get a look.
“Eh! Eh! That’s my job!” I jump up. I tease you for a minute, showing the garter belt, before turning around and quickly lifting the shirt off, dropping it on the floor. You hoot. Next is the hard part: the jeans. I slowly pull them under my ass, shaking it for you. But getting out of the legs always trips me up. I squat, pushing them down, but one leg catches on the garter clip. So I stand back up to fix it. Something is stuck in the other leg now. “Sorry, sorry!” I mumble.
“Can I help?” you ask earnestly–probably with less than innocent intentions. I waddle over to you and put one hand on your shoulder as I fumble with the garter latch in the other leg. You lean forward and kiss one of my breasts, your hands moving up my waist.
“Don’t distract me,” I jokingly whisper. Finally, the jeans are on the floor. I do a little more of the dance routine before I come back to your lap and grind on you, facing forward. I notice that the song that’s on now isn’t really that sexy, but you don’t seem to notice. I stand back up and–I know you’ll love this–I move to pop open the bra’s front clasp. I let my tits out, and lean forward to shake them in your face. You greedily grab them.
“Fuck yes girl, you know I love them titties!” I hold back my laughter and let you motorboat them. Then I turn around, twerk a little, and hook my thumbs under the waistband of the practically invisible panties, moving it from side to side.
“Wait,” you say. Your tone is suddenly serious. “Wait.” I stop moving and turn to look at you. You’ve dropped to your knees on the floor, and crawl towards me. You put your hands on my ass, and kiss my stomach. Then you bite down on the waistband of the G-string, and pull it down to my knees with your teeth. I unhook the garter belt, and you pull the stockings off as it drops to my legs. I step out of it all as you straighten up. You look up at me, and very calmly say, “I’m ready for my cake now.”
I can’t help but giggle at this. You stand up and take me by the hand to our bedroom. The lights are off, and you can barely hear the music in the living room. You put your arms around my waist, and we stand there staring at each other before we start to kiss. I move to take off your pants, but you push be away and tell me to lay down. You take off your shirt, then your jeans. I see your dick pop right out of your shorts. It’s *hard*. Not so bad for two glasses of whiskey!
You straddle me on the bead and kiss me softly with my breasts in your hands. I stroke your cock with my fingers, and you moan in my ear. After a few minutes, I tell you to sit up. I get on my hands and knees and lower my chest to the bed, ass in the air. You kneel behind me, and manoeuvre your cock from my clit to my ass hole. This drives me crazy. I can feel myself starting to drip, and I know it won’t take long for me to cum. You push your cock into my vagina, and stroke fast and hard. In just moments, I squirt all over your cock, and it runs down my stomach and onto the bed. You don’t stop. I can feel myself swelling with every breath.
Suddenly, that familiar charge of electricity. My body is a star for a few brief moments. I can feel myself throbbing around you, as if my vagina was gasping for air. You still haven’t slowed down. I open my eyes, and roll onto my back. I tell you to stand up. This is one of our favorites–me, at the end of the bed, with my legs wrapped around you. You pick up my legs and pull me to the end of the bed before putting your wet cock back inside me. You grind at first, and I moan quietly. I’m still soaked, and every thrust sounds wet.
“I want you to cum for me,” I say with confidence, looking up at your closed eyes. “I need you to cum hard in my pussy.” You open your eyes and look down on me. That eye contact pushes you to the edge. “Cum in me!” You speed up slightly, and moan loudly as you ejaculate. This makes me smile. “Oh babe, you’re the best. You’re the fucking best.”
“What a day,” you exhale. In my mind, it was a pretty simple day–nothing extravagant, no party–just more sex than usual. But I don’t say anything. I don’t want to interrupt whatever you are thinking, because I know you’re thinking about how great it is when we fuck. I sit up and move under you, so that your head is on my thigh. Your legs are still dangling off the edge of the bed, one hand on your stomach, the other laying next to your side. I start tracing your face with a fingertip.
We sit like that for a while, until I’m sure you’re asleep. I move to get up, and you whisper, “Don’t stop.” So I tell you to roll over. I scratch your back, then lightly massage your neck, before running my fingers through your hair. This was one of the first things we did alone together, a little drunk in your old apartment.
“Remember the first time we did this?” I ask, barely audible, in case you are asleep.
“Um….” you mumble, your head in the bedspread. “Sex?”
“No,” I laugh softly. “That night, our first night alone, and you invited me in for a nightcap, and I scratched your head.”
You roll your neck to face me, but your eyes are still closed. “Oh. Yeah kind of.” I can hear in your voice that you are already half asleep. “I remember that I thought we were going to hook up… But…” I wait for you to finish that sentence, but your breathing is slow and measured.
I lean back on the pillows behind me, thinking about that night. Certainly a special night in my book.
PT 3 & 4 coming soon :)
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/jau3xg/happy_birthday_mf_vanilla_romantic_monogamy_part_2