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Christmas , Couples, Christmas

Pages: 1

I have tried to visualize how you will be dressed when you read this message. From past encounters, I am sure you will be sitting at the keyboard in your robe, freshly showered, you hair still damp, wrapped in a towel so the moisture will not drip on your shoulders.

You feel breath on your neck. If it is Bill's then you are "busted", and while you will have to work very hard to overcome the impact on your relationship, you nevertheless continue, enthralled by the words before you.

You hear no immediate response: as you continue to read the breath caresses each of the fine hairs on your neck, which still slightly damp tingle with the ever so slight pressure of the breath.

You realize that the breath is not random, rather focused as it moves ever so slowly across your neck, each gust of warm air assaulting a fresh area, cascading from the spot where it hits downward to the top of the robe.

When a burst strikes just below your ear, you feel the warmth flow down your neck to the top of your partially exposed breast, dwindling as it approaches your cleavage.

A flush begins to rise to your cheeks, as you contemplate the significance of this onslaught, the flow shifting across the back of your neck until it reaches the other ear, then down the other side, with the same effect.

The pressure increases forcing it's way down the curving passage between your breasts, caressing them so gently that you shiver from the touch.

You lean back slightly, reaching back to touch your assailant, and when your hands only grasp air, you turn around to glimpse your admirer, only to see no one.

You turn to read the page again, and this time as the attack resumes you resolve yourself to the fact that your lover does not want to be seen.

As the surge of warm again touches your skin you open your robe a little more, hoping to increase the sensation on your skin.

Again your head leans back, this time with your eyes closed, encouraging your admirer to redirect the flow to more sensitive areas.

You feel the warm exhalation touch your face, fondling your eyes, nose, and then your lips as it moves gently over your exposed skin.

As it traces its way again to your bosom, you feel your nipples enlarge to press against the fabric of your robe, the makeup of the cloth lightly caressing their tenderness.

As a blindfold encompasses your face the pages are no longer viewable, so you relax to enjoy the attentions of your unseen lover.

Now the feather-light touch of fingers caressing your neck, moving almost randomly across your skin, each touch causing the hair follicles to constrict, like tiny erections, raising the nerves for the next encounter.

The fingers move lower, across your chest, even lighter than before, each tracing almost imperceptible circles as they move, ever downward, until they reach the fabric, where they move it aside.

Upon reaching your straining nipples, fingers and thumbs simultaneously seize the nubbins, gently pinching and pulling the tender points, coaxing them to expand to their fullest.

The contact is lost as the fingers begin to move slowly across your belly: nails lightly contact your skin, raising more of the hairs, followed by lighter caresses as the fingers move ever downward and outward until they are stroking the sides of your abdomen under the robe.

As they begin to delve lower, lips press against yours, lightly at first, then more insistently, pressing your head back, as a hand approaches your thighs.

The nails, this time more strongly rake your thighs, causing you to tremble as they move relentlessly toward your center.

The finger part your lips, stroking the tender flesh tenderly, as a single finger begins to invade your lower lips: simultaneously a tongue presses against your upper ones, exploring the opening.

You gasp as the finger finds it's target, diving deeply into your cleft, at the same time allowing the tongue to part your upper lips, delving into the warm wetness in tandem.

As the lower invader slides more deeply into your self-lubricated opening, another returns to your chest, grasping your nipple, this time pulling sharply on it as another digit fondles your clitoris.

As you feel the invader begin to withdraw, your clasp it with your thighs in an attempt to retain the sensations that are building deep inside.

The lips leave yours as you feel the hands part your willing thighs, the fingers to soon be replace by a tongue that begins to bathe you from perineum to apex, circumnavigating the orifice before it while avoiding your love button.

You reach to pull the head now between your legs closer, scooting your hips forward to increase the contact as the teeth gently nibble on your most tender flesh, oblivious to the fluids beginning to flow.

The nibbling turns to laving, the surface of the tongue almost like sandpaper as it strives to remove the fluids while the hands grasp your buttocks pulling you more firmly against the lips and tongue.

As your sounds increase the caresses become more aggressive, frequently sucking on your love button, then abandoning it to bathe your anus.

You begin to wriggle to press the tongue against your most sensitive parts, but the hands hold you ever so firmly, not allowing the movement you desire, while the attention moves again to your button, this time sucking firmly on it while a finger, then two begin to ply your opening.

Slowly they stretch the pliant skin to accommodate the onslaught soon to be unleashed upon you. As the digits begin your invasion, the lips leave your cleft, and return to your face: you can smell your aroma as you taste it on the lips pressed against yours.

You open your mouth hungrily to accept the offering as a thumb begins to rub you while the fingers, now three, continue the reciprocating movement, ever deeper into your very center.

You gasp for breath as the foray into your secret parts continues, relentlessly sliding to and fro, while the lips leave yours once again, this time to fasten upon each of your nipples in succession, sucking, nibbling, and biting them as you writhe to the manual ministrations.

Suddenly, lips join fingers, touching, nipping, biting, teasing, deep then shallow, wet then dry. As you hear the whispered phrase "Please, cum for me" a finger invades your anus, the pressure releasing you, pushing you over the edge: You scream as you release in a massive orgasm, while the attentions continue, taking you higher and higher, until you all but collapse from the ecstasy.

Then as silently as it began, the touch is gone, the room is silent.

When you return to full awareness, you find the message at the bottom of the note:

"Shall I return for New Years?"

Amy & Joe Ugly

Pages: 1

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