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Showing posts from January, 2016

Her Taste

Her Taste by Kilted Wookie He looked down on her as she lay, naked, on the bed before him; her legs open, inviting. He feasted on her with his eyes; drinking in her dark hair and pale skin. Her emerald eyes flashed as she smiled up at him. She flinched as he ran his fingertips up and down the inside of her thighs; dragging his nails lightly over her skin. Again and again, the fingers approached, and each time she wondered if this time would be the time that he touched her soft, lower lips. Each time, to her increasing torment, just when it felt that he had to touch her, his fingers drew away. Time passed, and his lips replaced his fingers. The sensations changed, but the torment remained. Approach, retreat... Approach, retreat... Each time, the warmth of his breath, the closeness of his mouth to her most sensitive of skin caused her to shiver. He could see the tension in her build. He could feel it in the tightness of her thighs as he kissed them. Her lips glistened with her moisture.

The Tube

The Tube by Kilted Wookie The carriage was packed with the rush hour hordes. Bodies crammed together uncomfortably; commuters sharing their discomfort with a stoic lack of eye contact. Once again, the train shuddered to a halt. She staggered against him; mumbled an apology. He smiled down at her in unspoken reassurance that no apology was required. Their eyes met, breaking the unwritten contract between those that travelled below London's streets. She returned the smile, a twinkle of mischief in her emerald green eyes acknowledging the unintended intimacy. A garbled announcement; something about a breakdown on the line ahead, an apology for the inconvenience. They smiled at each other again; a shrug of resignation, a symbol of their silent companionship. Minutes ticked by; long, drawn out, minutes that slowly sapped the resolve of the crowded commuters. He heard her sigh and felt her lean slightly against him. She looked up, fatigue clear in her face. Smiling, he shook his head, in

Private Dancer

Private Dancer by Kilted Wookie The lights are dimmed, the music plays, he sits on a seat in the middle of the floor. Sometimes his hands are tied behind the back of the seat, sometimes not, it depends on how much she wants to tease him. She steps into the room wearing one of her sluttiest outfits; the kind of outfit that leaves little to the imagination. His eyes are immediately glued to her. She walks up and runs her hand over his head, across his shoulders. She walks around and runs her fingers down his chest; unbuttoning the first few buttons of his shirt. Her hand dips lower; her fingers trace the outline of the growing bulge in the front of his jeans. The first song is spent simply teasing him; rubbing herself against him, sitting on his lap and ruffling his hair as she pulls his face towards her cleavage. She squirms on his lap, feeling his cock stiffen. As the second song starts, she undoes his belt, opens up his jeans. Now it’s the turn of her mouth. She gently kisses his cock