The command comes whispered in your ear as we stand together, chatting with friends around the party’s snack table:
***”Get in the hall closet. Close the door. Close your eyes, and wait for me there.”***
I give you a firm squeeze before letting you slip out of my arm as you excuse yourself from the conversation to feign looking for the bathroom. Can you feel my eyes on you, watching you go? Can you feel the heat of my gaze on the small of your back, your ass, your legs? Do you know that my hand has slipped into my pocket where I’m keeping the thong I told you to strip off from under your dress and give to me in the car before we entered the party?
Darkness surrounds you in that closet. Time ticks away as the bass of the party music seems to thump in time with the pound of your heart. I’m out there somewhere, imagining what the wait is doing to you, both of us enjoying the appetizer of anticipation. The memory of my kiss on your neck in the car is still fresh. Can you feel it? The bite of my teeth at your inner thigh last night just before I took you over the edge: do you feel that, too? Your hands remember, and your fingertips seek to touch, to rekindle those sensations. Your own nails glide along the edge of the choker you’ve worn for me, tracing the smooth, warm metal of the cat at your throat. Your other hand falls slower, below the skirt of your dress, to tug up the hem from where it sits at your mid thighs…
Sometimes I love to make you wait, especially because I know how much *you* crave being made to. Our little, wicked secret.
(Just a start for now. More to come soon…)
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/qk0n79/closet_part_1_mf