The Chair - Sex Stories

The Chair

You’re sitting in a chair, naked. Your body tense with desire, longing to touch me. Gripping the arms of the chair tightly because I had told you if you touched me your pleasure would stop. My mouth is gliding over you, tasting your ear, your neck, coming towards your mouth for a soft kiss before continuing on its torturous tour of your body. You can smell my perfume, the hints of it driving you to distraction as I kiss you, my body oh so close but off limits. My hair has come forward, blocking your view of my tongue as it trails over your chest, flicking over your nipple before lightly nibbling and sucking it into my mouth. You moan, your erection flexing as your desire is all consuming. God, you want me, and you try to make your needs known. My tongue continues on its downward trail, kisses and nibbles over your stomach and down to your shaft where it begins a sensuous dance with you. I can taste you, you are wet for me, and you are not sure who moans louder as my mouth finally closes over you. I take you deep, my tongue never still as it caresses the sensitive ridge of your head. Your body almost comes off the chair with the need to thrust and I worship you, bent before you, drawing out your passion until it is almost too late to stop. But I do. Your fingers turn white with the pressure of holding onto the arms of the chair, the need to wrap your fingers in my hair and press me to you great. I lick and nibble, occasionally drawing you deep, but only to keep you on the ...

... edge of sanity, and look up into your eyes and smile as my tongue circles over you. Standing I begin to remove my clothes, slowly, sensuously in front of you, my body swaying to the music of our heart beats. You watch as buttons are undone, one at a time, revealing bits of skin and lace. Your heart races faster as with a sexy shrug the shirt falls to the floor, leaving me in bra and skirt. I come closer, my hands caressing my breasts through my bra; you can see the nipples peaking in hardness. Your mouth waters, wanting to taste, but I only undo my bra in front of you, my breasts spilling into my hands. I raise one nipple towards my mouth, my tongue circling, wetting it as your tongue so badly wants to do. I come closer as if to offer, and you lean forward, but I step back, temptation and tease. My hands trail down my body to my skirt and underneath the waistband where they start to play with myself but you can’t see, only watch as listen as I moan and you can hear how wet I am. You raise a hand, but I smile; again you grip the arm of the chair, pushed almost beyond reason to feel me. I take my hand out of my skirt and raise my fingers to my lips, licking the taste of myself off of them, sucking them deep into my mouth. I offer you a kiss then, and you thrust your tongue in deep, desperate for the taste but find it fleeting; you want more. I step back and remove my skirt, letting it fall to the floor and you see I am wearing lace, alternately revealing and hiding that which you ...