1. Lesson Plans


    Date: 2/6/2016, Categories: BDSM, Interracial Sex, Voyeur, Author: LaMaluca, Rating: 100, Source: xHamster

    When we arrive to your hotel, I gather my skirts teasingly on my exit. You don’t bother to muffle your tortured groan as my back arches upon standing. I stretch after the half-hour ride, arms to the sky. The wait is drawing on my patience, and admittedly I’m looking forward to a nice drink and romp by the night’s end. A murmured ‘thanks’ and metallic door slam mark the end of our taxi excursion. “Baby,” you call conspiratorially from behind. I face you with a heady look, biting my lip. It stops you in your tracks. “Bad girl,” are the words I’ve been craving to hear, though you growl them as several people wander by. I could not care less what their opinions are on your lust. I much rather prefer to know yours. I blow you a kiss, taking you by the hand into the lobby. ________________________________________ I always have a sardonic appreciation for the easy listening muzak in elevators, but you make me gasp for air laughing when you start air guitar-ing by the fifth floor. We’re situated on the ninth, in a suite that most impressed me with its variety of furniture and view of D.C. across the river. I do enjoy the finer things sometimes. We reach our floor in a dramatic flourish, as you take a sweeping bow and nearly head-butt the frightened housekeeper upon stepping out. I cover my mouth to hide giggling during your heartfelt apology. Embarrassment turns you a nice shade of crimson. It doesn’t escape my mind how red you may turn otherwise. She hustles off, calling you a ...
    ‘nice, silly man’ in Tagalog before turning the corner. You raise your eyebrows then shrug sheepishly. “I wasn’t trying to pull a Mortal Kombat, you know.” I roll eyes at you, sticking my tongue out. “She just thinks you’re weird. So do I but that’s part of your charm, mister.” This brings on a facet of you previously unseen. Pride and something darker straightens your spine. That stare is weighted as if for more private matters. “Mister, you say?” I sashay down the corridor, tousling my hair seductively. “Coming, sir?” “If you talked like this more often, I don’t think you’d be so careless with your teases,” you muse with a confident, frazzled edge. I catch the keycard as you toss it several feet my way, landing conveniently in my blouse. 3-0. This score is starting to unnerve me. I’m determined to best you. “Makin’ me want to fuck the date and get on with dessert.” I nearly drop the card in my fingers before swiping open the mahogany door. You switch on the warm incandescent lights. I raise my eyebrows in appraisal; from the lovely chaise lounge chairs to the impossibly fluffy queen bed, this was a very nice find. I run a casual hand back through my curls, and yours joins it in tenderness that liquefies me. You’re all too acute to my replies. A daring caress grips thigh, travels along my ass and squeezes so tightly I all but jump forward into the room. But I whimper with longing when you pull me back by my hair and against a very convincing hardness. And it isn’t the phone in ...
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