I notice that I am somewhat tense. excited.
It's the tension for the unknown, of pure eroticism and of extravagant luxury.
Anxious for the forbidden.
I see the admiring, eager look in his eyes. He looks good in his 'suit': the pants and vest of his tailor-made suit, no shirt, no jacket.
Slim, muscular arms, nice strong shoulders.
My Bare dress is thin, transparent. Barely a shadow over my skin and the lingerie that I wear underneath. The straps of the Coco de Mer Thalia bralette frame my natural bosom. The small triangles of blue fabric cover almost nothing, leaving my breasts largely exposed. The matching ouvert slip shows my round, almost naked bum. I am also wearing the Chambre Noir waspie, with classic back-seamed stockings, also from Maison Close. And of course, to complete the picture, a pair of towering heels…
He gazes, he's enjoying the view, greedily and shamelessly, every movement of my curves. I give him every opportunity. That's why we're here. Finally. We managed to steal this evening; it's not allowed, we're not here at all, but still, we're here. Together.
Tonight we're having a private dinner.
Large paintings, feminine nudes hang on the wall. The painter apparently had a fascination for beautiful perky breasts. And the owner of this country house too. Works of art everywhere, a baroque collection of extravagances. On the small round table are high, glistening glasses and flawless porcelain. And against the wall a large bed. Inviting. Come, come and revel in me, it whispers, almost audibly.
We sit down, opposed from one another. He gives me a compliment. I smile and move a little so he can admire my full breasts unhindered. The lady who's serving us is discreet, doesn't seem to notice my near-nudity. We don't talk much, we both feel the tension. Dinner forces us to stretch our desire, to preserve our lust.
…To be continued…
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