Broderie Anglaise
I knock on the door, and you open it quickly, breathlessly.
“Oh hello” you exclaim, feigning surprise, but the smirk playing about your perfect pink lips gives you away.
“I have been fixing the car” I explain, holding up my hands to show the oily residue.
“Do you want to wash them” you offer, pointing the way to the kitchen, “There is a towel on the side”
“In a minute” I reply, running my gaze up and down your body. You are wearing it, perfect, white, innocent. Buttoned up to the neck. The broderie anglaise dress, smooth, brown bare legs beneath. My eyes burn into your body, I notice your stiffening nipples, you are not wearing a bra, “Hmmm, interesting” I think, your breasts perfect as they rise and fall with your breathing.
I move towards you and you bite your bottom lip, with what? fear? trepidation? desire? I push you firmly, insistently against the wall and kiss you, hard. Taking your bottom lip between my teeth, I pull and a moan escapes from deep in your throat. I run my tongue across your upper teeth and you try to suck it deep into your mouth but I pull away and gaze into your eyes. It is my turn to smirk as your tits are now heaving, I bring my hands up to them and cup them over the cool cotton, the heat rising from them is incredible. I rub your hard nipples with my thumbs, leaving oily smears on your dress, “Not so perfect now” I chuckle to myself. I nip at your neck and you whimper as I reach for the buttons at your neck and begin to undo them and I follow my hands with my lips, kissing your collar bone and down to the slope of your breasts. I can’t stop, I don’t stop until your breasts are totally at the mercy of my mouth, I cover your perfect rosy nipples with my lips and suck, making them grow even more before I begin to tug at them with my teeth. You cry out, “Oh Fuck!” and push your tits out, willing me to go further.
I want to devour you, need to make you mine, I move away from you again and feast my eyes. Your breasts peeking through the dress, slick with my saliva and a little of your sweat. You lean against the wall, breathless and I approach again and kneel at your feet, you look down at me through lidded eyes, confusion ruffling your brow. I run my dirty hands up the outside of your calves, rough hands against smooth skin, up, under the hem of the dress, past your knees to your thighs. Suddenly, without warning I bury my face in your lap and inhale your scent, sweet, with a hint of sour, floral yet earthy. You gasp at my invasion, I think “Lady, you ain’t seen nothing yet”.
My hands continue upwards, reaching your hips, you are wearing panties, part of me is disappointed, part of me excited. They feel soft against my hands as I move to cup the cheeks of your arse and pull you towards me. I can wait no longer.
I drop one hand to the hem and begin to raise it, my other hand alternately stroking and kneading your bottom through your panties. At last the bottom of the dress reaches your upper thighs, their skin dusted with a fine down, upwards and your underwear comes into view, perfect, simple, white cotton, innocent yet already dampness apparent at the join of your thighs. Again, I can’t resist, I reach behind you with the hand which had raised your dress and pull you towards my mouth again and clamp it to the cotton and begin to push my tongue into the crease in your knickers, you groan as I try to push the material inside you. You taste divine as your juices start to seep into my mouth. “Oh god, please…” You begin to thrust towards my mouth, becoming urgent, I now know I have you.
I hook my thumbs under the sides of your pants and pull down, swiftly, revealing your perfect pinkness to my gaze. You are slick with juice, a dribble runs down your thigh and I dip my head to lick it off, savouring the flavour. I run my tongue up the inside of your thigh and across your lips, searching out your clit, I find it, hard, it almost seems to be throbbing. I circle it and you whimper, I tug gently with my lips “Fffff…” you try to form the words but fail, “Chhhharr…Pleaaa…” I lash at the fleshy nub. Your legs go weak and I have to cup your arse to hold you up, my hard, rough, dirty hands on your perfect peach of an arse.
I push upwards, forcing you onto tip-toes, pulling your cheeks apart, allowing me access to the full length of your pussy and I flatten my tongue and lick, lick from the bottom of your slit. Up and over your clit, again and again. You cry out, you are close, close to coming, close to giving yourself totally. But you need more. I hook 2 fingers and thrust them inside you, pulling forward, worrying your clit with my lips, my tongue, my teeth. You are nearly there, your thighs strain and tremble, your stomach tightens, you claw at your own tits, desperate for more sensation.
I pull my fingers from you, they are soaked with you, I look up into your eyes and lick them clean. They taste of you, like nectar, sweet but with a tang. My hands go to your arse again, lifting you higher still and lower you onto my chin, my tongue snakes inside you and you pull my head to you, guiding me to your most sensitive spots. You are rubbing your clit on my nose as I tongue fuck your pussy, reaching as far inside you as I can. My cock is so hard in my jeans, but I am fully dressed, this is for you, this is what you need.
You are grinding on my face now, desperate to come and then it hits you, you clamp hard on my tongue, spasming , I have to hold you tighter to stop you slipping off my face as you come, harder, longer than ever before, you cry out like a wounded animal and slump, almost passing out.
Your breath slows and you slide to the floor. I survey the scene, I have never seen you look so beautiful, the broderie anglaise dress dishevelled and slightly dirty. I take your hand and pull you to your feet and begin leading you towards the bedroom, your knickers still around one of your ankles.
“I haven’t finished with you yet lady”
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/r8ts43/broderie_anglaise