It slowly opened . . . "Why hello, do come in" she sullenly said through rich pouting lips. I licked my lips and followed, noticing that she was wearing a very tight strapless top which left very little to anyone's imagination, below her bare midriff was an extremely short black skirt, so short I could just see the curve of her tight bottom where it met the top of her legs each time she took a step, which was a wonder because the skirt was so tight she could hardly move her long slender legs. I shivered and followed. "Do sit" she said pointing to deep sofa, "but" I stammered, "Please" she said . . . I sat and was astonished as she bent over the coffee table . . . nothing but bare skin was visible under her skirt, not a hint of anything, just pure skin . . . wow! She laughed and walked out of the room. I waited expectantly. She returned a couple of minutes later. Standing on the opposite side of the table, she leaned over to put a tray down. Soft lush breasts ending in firm erect. But I was tired, and worse, I was bored. Pushing up into a downward dog over him and stretching my heels down, head, hair and breasts dangled, teased, over his prone body. Rocking back, I stood stretching for the ceiling. I could feel the wattage of his gaze on me, even as I reached back over head, flexed my spine, and stepped across his motionless body, stooping down to retrieve my clothes. “Get off my pants.” That harsh tone in my voice crept in whenever I talked to him, betraying my impatience with our situation. But I remained unsure about my greater dilemma. How long could I go on, my boredom leading me to grow bolder with my insults- this one was the greatest yet? I jerked my jeans, tugged them with enough force to free them from under his prone body. Stumbling, I caught myself with an outflung hand on the back of a barstool. Feeling the heat of irritation in my face, I gritted my teeth together and with pursed lips shoved my legs into my striped boyshorts. Pulled them up and.
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