1. Charcoal Pinstripes


    Date: 10/10/2017, Categories: Group Sex, Author: Metilda, Rating: 11, Source: LushStories

    him, I was uncertain. Hands pressed lightly to my knees, slowly spreading my legs apart. I groaned and reached out to feel, to touch. Anyone. Someone. A heated hand grasped my wrist and lifted up. Warm wetness met the inside of my arm—a kiss. That one kiss turned into a trail of kisses, which jolted through me with prickling heat. Fingertips slid across the inside of my thighs, teasing back and forth, up and up, underneath my skirt. When those fingertips brushed over my swollen pussy, I groaned. My skin crackled with fire. I could tell because the touch felt cold and soothing, and wet. Wet from me. My sweat, my cream. The lips on my arm made their way to my shoulder and fingertips followed, tickling and teasing. With my other hand, I found the hem of a suit jacket, and pulled. I don’t know what I was pulling for, but the tension building inside compelled me to demand more. More kissing, more touching, more closeness. More. The bed dipped behind me and hands met my shoulders, brushing over my tingling skin. I moaned and gasped and tried to lean into the contact. Fingers found the pull of my zipper and slowly drew it down. Down . . . until cool air brushed my back and my dress slipped from my shoulders, unaided. Gravity caused it to fall. The smooth satin clung to my breasts and the straps gathered in the crook of my arms. All the many times I fantasized, and here it was in reality, yet it felt like a dream. Warm hands reached from behind me and slid the straps over my ...
    wrists and off my hands. When my breasts were freed from the thin layer of fabric, the wet, heated hands exploring the apex of my sex glided over the rumpled folds of fabric and met the exposed span of my belly. Then, those two hands trailed upward and cupped the round of my breasts. I blindly felt my way to his arms, then up to his shoulders, trying to discern who was in front of me. I couldn’t tell. I’m unable to recognize the contours of Ruben’s body versus another man’s body. Is that terrible? But the attempt is pleasing as is the mouth on the back of my neck. I began to shake again, need and anticipation boiling over. Touch me more, please. More fabric rustled and fell to the floor. A jacket, a shirt, a tie, slacks? Then one zipper, and then another. I trailed my hands down the side of the man in front of me, to the waist of his pants. Skimming along the top edge of his belt, I sought out the buckle. The sound of finely tooled leather slipping against the brass buckle as I pulled was satisfying. Breath hitched in his chest when I found the clasp and slipped my fingers behind the metal prong to undo it—something I’ve wanted to do since yesterday. So satisfying to finally have so many things I’ve wanted. Under my fingers, the zipper chattered when I worked the pull down. A moment later, my hands were wrapped around a solid, hard cock. Only then could I discern who was in front of me, and it wasn’t Ruben. From the darkness of the blindfold I pictured the other man’s face. An ...
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