I told her to go stand next to her husband. She slowly walked and stood beside him. I placed the gun on the bed. I faced them as I unfolded the metal chair at the foot of their bed. I lifted the weapon and aimed it at her husband.
“Melanie, come here,” I commanded. She approached me with an innocent smile and stopped inches in front of me. She made eye contact. I fought with my own fluster.
I said, “With both hands, lift up your shirt above your hip.”
Brent’s wife did as I instructed. Her husband shuffled awkwardly on his knees to the camcorder and looked at its screen. He spoke, “Rotate clockwise.”
We both complied.
He said, “Right there. Good. That’s a good angle. Please continue, Jordi.”
Angrily I said, “No names! Edit that shit out! I am fucking serious. We discussed this, dude. No names and no non-BrenMel faces will be seen in this video.”
Brent was genuinely apologetic when he responded, “One hundred. My error.”
I lifted the scissors and began to cut the fabric of her night shirt. She closed her eyes in a display of pleasure as she heard the metal slicing through the material.
Brent breathed heavily as I cut a jagged line up to her neckline. She watched my eyes the entire time. Was I breathing heavily too? I asked myself. I put a governor on my lungs.
With the final snip, her shirt draped open. I surveyed her vulnerable body as I had wanted to see the front desk clerk — Stephanie. I threw the scissors into the open briefcase. Like a baller, I thought until it bounced out an landed on the floor. Whateves, I subsequently thought.
I reached behind her back and tugged at her shirt. It slid from her shoulders and landed behind her feet. She watched my eyes with a mischievous smile. She was naked now. Wordlessly I visually took her body into my psyche. I consciously controlled my own breathing.
Raven blue-black hair parted down the middle of her scalp.
Light brown eyes like a perfect cup of green tea.
Collar bones. Collar hollows.
A cups. Almost B.
Dark brown nipples. Attentive. Maybe two centimeters.
Her belly button is an outy, jutting from her firm abdomen.
She has a c-scar, so I guessed that she was a milf.
Her pubic hairs were shaved in an arrow which pointed toward her vagina.
I grappled with my desire to kiss her collar bone before I told her, “Lady, sit down on the chair.”
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/6p2r7r/deerplain_donna_45