We've got something to make-up, with each other.
We are both very angry, mighty angry - I don't even really recall what the reason was anymore. Probably something trivial. Before we knew it, it was about my nosiness, your nonchalance, the accusations were thrown back and forth. We were both unreasonable. You just stood with your back to me, your hands in your pockets, furiously staring in the distance in front of you.

Fortunately, I know the best way to get rid of this tension between us, to make it right again. In the bedroom, I took out the Naida basque from Studio PIA. Beautiful fine silk, with seaweed and coral motifs. Gold colored straps, crossing each other on my back and along my naked buttocks. I attach almost invisible, skin-colored stockings to the suspenders, crisp, with a soft shimmer. I wear the C'e Due necklace from Escora around my neck; the long golden chains loosely draping over my bosom.

You still stand with your back to me when I enter the living room. Your angular shoulders betray the tension and anger in your body. You turn around when you hear me. You are surprised, stunned. Speechless. I see that you're already defrosting, your posture is somewhat loosening up, but the look in your eyes is just as intense, just as angry as before. Slowly but surely I walk towards you, on my high stiletto heels.

Your gaze veers to my breasts, large and full in the delicate silk fabric, a breathtaking deep neckline under the glistening necklace. You see my nude lower body, the golden straps revealing my pubic area like an open slip. You judge my long legs, the matt sheen of my stockings. I look you in the eye as I stand in front of you, put a hand in your neck, kiss you full on the mouth. For a moment I feel resistance, but soon it changes into eagerness, into raw lust. I feel your lips, your tongue, the scraping of your rough cheek. I bite you and taste blood. Your hand grips my butt firmly, you force me against you.

I firmly grab the crotch of your pants, feeling your growing erection. I rub, knead, squeeze just a little too hard. You let out a muffled howl. You push me away and look at me, still with that intense look, but now different than before. I recognize that look. Your hands go to the belt of your pants, you start to undress yourself. I walk back a few steps, a little shaky, until I feel the edge of the table against my thighs.

You now only wear your shirt, I see your naked abdomen, your hard manhood, tall and upright. I lower my back, you bend your strong body over me and take me, overwhelm me. I fight back, wrap my legs around you, clamp myself onto you, forcing you to go even deeper inside me. A hand glides up from my hip, beneath the delicate silk of my basque, pushing the fabric aside and grabbing my full, soft chest. Startled, I bite your shoulder, but it doesn't bother you.

Suddenly your anger reaches its peak, I feel your whole body tighten and then you let go of everything, convulsing and jolting. You use your last bit of energy and anger to hold on a little longer until I'm ready. Finally, all of it comes out, in waves, wonderfully hot and liberating.

We look at each other, still panting. Astonished, satisfied.
I can tell from the look in your eyes that everything is fine again.


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