House Call

by Ian on February 8, 2011

by Stephanie Wytovich

The click-clacking of her heels
Coming through the kitchen
Makes me turn my head in anticipation
To her arrival in my apartment
While I sip on chardonnay in my room

I can see her lips before I see anything
Glowing red in the dim light,
Reflecting off the shine from her stilettos
While my eyes climb up her legs,
Following the black hosiery, up to the garter belt
Twisted around her waist
Like a bow begging to be undone

She takes off her jacket,
Cascading it on a nearby chair
And undoes her hair from a tight bun,
Locks of curls falling down her face
Some burying themselves inside her bra
While she bends over the bed,
Teasing me with her cleavage

Her nipples are erect,
Forcing my eyes to them,
Wondering what they would taste like
Swirling inside my mouth,
Tugging them with my teeth…
I touched myself
While she slowly continued to undress
Killing me with foreplay
And an overactive imagination

She pulled my glossed lips with her teeth
Slid her tongue against mine,
She tasted like honey
Especially when she spread her legs
Revealing a sugarcoated pussy
For me to devour like candy

Her things move against my face
Smoothing my skin while I fed on her
Her moans a constant reminder
Of the pink delicacy in my mouth
Juicy and tender,
Melting away with each passing moment
That I licked the outside of her

Twist, turn and reverse
She’s on top of me
Sliding across my clit
Tickling my sensitivities
As two fingers crept inside me
Playing up to my fantasies
In a way that no man ever could

We featured Stephanie here, and she has a blog at Join Me In The Madhouse.

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