Write More Little Secrets…

Haziran 5, 2021 0 Yazar: admin

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Write More Little Secrets, Just For Me

One day we were discussing my pending project and a potential deal. We knew each other from working in the publishing industry for a substantial period of time. We had a good working relationship and had gotten to know each other on a personal level. I had always found her personable, smart, witty and attractive. On a personal level, an attraction existed between us. It was not discussed but was tacitly acknowledged by private friendly flirtation. It was an attraction neither of us could act on because of commitments to others in our lives. The commitments barring our actions heightened our frustrations but we both found excitement in the longing we never discussed.

The day was a really hot summer day- high humidity and stagnant air with nary a trace of relief in sight. Thankfully, we worked inside. She sat across from me dressed appropriately for the season- a powder blue sleeveless mock turtle neck, which hugged her curves and accentuated her beautiful small breasts, and, a knee length lime summer skirt, which revealed the cute sun painted freckles randomly speckling her knees and legs.

She went to shift position and lifted a leg to cross one over the other. At the same time, my gaze was moving from her face to my desk top. As my eyes descended, her knees parted and I accidentally witnessed her skirt lift, revealing separating pale inner thighs, a momentary view of her soft lace panty, and, her firey orange hue.

The panty was not adorned with a standard tight lace pattern. No, it was of a semi-transparent gaziosmanpaşa escort fabric sparsely veiled by patterned lace, the type a woman wears to barely reveal, tease and seduce. My friend was an publicly prim person. I had the sense that despite her primness, at one time in her life she had a wild streak, which was now publicly suppressed. The revelation inflamed my imagination. It teased my desire to know what she was really like in private. As we continued our discussion, I looked at her face trying to keep focus on the conversation. All I could do was fixate on the beautiful sight now seared into my memory. I was not sure she knew what had transpired.

As she spoke, I thought of what would happen if she realized what I had seen- the momentary awkward pause which would ensue, that I would be compelled to lock my already closed office door and kneel before her. That would be ‘the’ moment we had to act on our undeniable desires, and we would both know it. She would sit, not objecting to my advance, nervously waiting, not knowing my ultimate intentions.

“Lift your skirt,” I would whisper, “I want to kiss it.” She would raise the skirt around her hips. I would part her knees, spread her thighs and observe the lace patterned fabric conforming to the curves of her body, tightly cupping her orange tufts, shadowing her furrow and tender folds. I would lean forward and gently shower her inner thighs and coveted covered sex with light kisses as she caressed the back of my head with her hands, running her haymana escort manicured French tip fingernails through my hair as she closed her eyes and leaned her head back savoring the moment. I would slide my hands behind her soft round ass and lap at her furrow through the garment, pushing against it with my stiff tongue. The fabric growing moist, and a beautiful smell escaping from the lace, I would gently push my face forward and tease her with a firmer touch, occasionally nipping at her through the garment. She would push the spiked high heels of her strappy summer sandals into the carpet as her tension mounted.

I would pull at the waistband to draw the garment down. “We shouldn’t,” she would quietly protest.

“Please,” I would reply, “don’t deny me.”

She would pause to think about it. “Just this time,” she would say as she raised herself off the chair just enough for me to remove the lingerie, revealing her untamed hairs and slightly parted swollen lips.

In worship, I would drizzle kisses on her well tufted furrow. Leaning my face forward and lightly pressing my mouth against her hairs, I would pause to breath deep and savior her sacred aroma. I would tenderly part her lips with the very tip of my tongue, taste her long desired warm waiting flesh- sultry, salty and sweaty- carefully grazing just the edges of her inner petals in a slow seductive manner, a cognoscenti of her flesh.

She would be a quiet one, the occasional sultry “oh yes,” and her quickening breath the only audible signs of her excitement. ankara escort She would raise her legs, bending them at the knees, draw them back and fully spread her thighs, exposing her steamy rose, giving me complete access to her delicate pink folds, allowing me to trace the very edges of the wet pink petals with the tip of my tongue. The panty would dangle off her left ankle as her feet hung in the air. Her hands would cradle the back of my head and her fingers would interlock.

“Touch me,” she would whisper and I would gently inserted a finger and coax her waiting inner flesh as I teased her hardened slick bud, my tongue gliding across the slippery nub. Her taste would dance across my tongue, the complex flavors popping on it like well chilled sweet champagne bubbles. Knees and thighs quivering, she would quip in a restrained soft feminine voice,”Yes, yes,” as subtle waves grew in strength and rapture slowly wrapped around her until it warmly embraced her delicate body and quietly cascaded her into a shuddering release.

“That was good, I mean really good,” she said.

“Excuse me?” I asked, her comment distracting my reverie.

“…The narrator’s gender is not clear,” she commented.

“It is ambiguous…. I think there is room for additional story line. Care to publish it?” I asked.

“You should expand the story. Do you know where?” she asked.

“You know how I value your insight and opinion, show me,” I asked.

“Haven’t I already?” she asked coyly, a smitten smirk on her face. I sat not knowing how to respond to the nuanced question. The look on my face must have given me away.

“Then you saw?” she asked still smirking.

“Yes,” I admitted.

She smiled. “Good,” she started, “lets keep it just between us, our little secret…. Now go write about it, just for me, write more little secrets just for me…”

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