I led her from the couch to the bedroom, where I had lit candles and placed a plate of brie, crackers and apple slices. I wanted this to be perfect for her. On the way to the bedroom, I picked up the poured glasses of Pinot Noir, her favorite wine. In the bedroom, I pushed her onto the bed and removed her remaining strip of cloth. “On your tummy,” I said.
My god, that ass looked yummy! A cute little tatoo adorned her low back. She settled into the deep comforter and I straddled her body. My balls fell against her bottom and my cock nestled against her, as I spread honey-scented massage lotion across her back and shoulders. Touching her skin was like touching the still surface of a summer pond. It felt like my hands would fall into her and bury themselves. The only thing that had structure to it was that persistent piece of muscle and blood between my legs. Otherwise, everything felt like angel hair, or sheep’s wool, or warm butter. The sensations overwhelmed me; I felt like crying.
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