Strawberries?

The room glowed from the candles’ flames, almost as light as daylight but much softer, as you move toward me.
I take a deep breath, "Take off your robe and lie down on the bed."
You drop the robe and lay down naked on the bed, watching me warily. You look great naked. I’d be so embarrassed to do that, I think to myself. Why is it that guys never are? Must be all those locker rooms.
"Okay. The first rule is you can’t touch me until I tell you to."
"What?" You start to sit up, but I just shake my head and smile. "I really don’t like this." You say as you lay back down again and pour yourself another glass of champagne. I slowly start unbuttoning my suit jacket and let it drop to the floor.
"Take it all off," you suggest, grinning at me and toasting me with your glass. I walk to the side of the bed and put my foot up on the edge. I am wearing black spike heels with open toes. I move my foot across to the other side of you so that my leg is arched across your stomach and the spiked heel is buried in the comforter by your hip. I feel stupid, but it is too late now. I draw my fingertips up my leg, pulling my skirt back over my thigh to reveal my garters, never taking my eyes off you. The garters are pink. I reach into my skirt pocket and bring out a small bottle of heat sensitive, strawberry flavored body oil. I pull the stopper out of the bottle and run it along my inner thigh, shuddering a little at the sensation . . . my whole body tightens and I shiver in surprise. I look down at you and you met my eyes. I run my tongue across my upper lip, more in reaction to the sensation than to seduce you, but you put down your glass and reach for me.
"No." I softly say, and your arms fall back to the bed. I stroke the inside of my thigh with my fingertips . . . feeling them glide across the smoothness of the nylon . . . closing my eyes . . . trying to concentrate on the sensation . . . wondering if any of this is exciting you in the slightest. Surprisingly enough, it is beginning to excite me . . . there is a gentle tingle . . . a faint heat. When I open my eyes, you are still watching me. I unsnap my garters with one hand. I remoisten the stopper with oil, then lean forward to slide it down your throat, knowing you would be inches from the open neck of my blouse, and would see the pink lace stretched across my breasts and feel the warmth of my body.
You reach up to touch me, but I pull back and shake my head. You hesitate, then put your hands behind your head. I put the bottle on the table and slide my fingers under the nylon of my stocking . . . easing it slowly past my thigh and over my calf . . . concentrating on the feel of the nylon sliding across my skin and on my own touch. I kick off the shoe and pull the stocking off my toes . . . then drag the wispy nylon across your chest. You clench your hands behind you head but you don’t move.
I get up from the bed and stand beside you, kicking off my other shoe. Then I turn my back and wriggle once as I ease the zipper on my skirt down . . . as it slips over my hips, I bend over to catch it . . . knowing that the little black slip I am wearing will ride up . . . knowing that you will get only tantalizing glimpses of pink lace underneath. "This is great," you say as you reach for me, "come here."
"Not yet," I say as I turn back towards you. You put your hands behind your head again and smile at me. I move to the bed and straddle you without touching your body . . . dressed now in my blouse and short black slip. You watch me as I slowly move across you, my weight on one hip as I unsnap the garters of my remaining stocking. I reach behind and under my slip to unhook the garter belt, dropping it to the floor. I pick up the bottle of oil and slowly run the stopper along my inner thigh . . . feeling the heat and tingle again. I put the stopper back in the bottle and let it drop to the bed. I start stroking the soft skin of my thigh through the stocking . . . breathing deeper as I stroke because it feels incredibly good.
When I look up, you are watching me, aroused and fascinated. I can make you feel like that without touching him, I think to myself, it makes me feel powerful and exciting. I stroke again and forget exactly what I was planning on doing . . . concentrating on the heat that is building inside of my and the desire on your face . . . moving my hand higher, until I am stroking myself through the pink lace. I close my eyes for a moment to savor my own touch, catching my tongue between my lips. When I open my eyes, you are leaning toward me. "You are incredible," you say in a husky whisper as you begin to take your hands from behind your head, and I stop instantly. "All right," you say, beginning to relax again, "but hurry." I ease the stocking down my leg . . . lowering my leg across you when I have the stocking off.
You move against me and I feel you hard against my thigh. "Oh, God, Amgel," you say as you start to bring your hands from behind your head once more. Still holding the stocking, I quickly lean into you so that your face it hidden in my blouse. While your mouth seeks my breast, I wrap the stocking around your wrists and pull them back. "What are you doing?" you ask as you try to your hands away, but I’ve already tied the ends of the stocking to the brass bed frame.
"Just watch." I whisper, and straddle you again, bracing myself across you so that my body isn’t touching yours. "This isn’t funny, Baby Girl." You whine as you pull at you bonds. "Let me go." I just smile at you and slowly start unbuttoning my blouse, while your eyes follow every move. I feel the silk fall open to expose the pink-and-silver lace that cups my breasts. I let the blouse fall off my shoulders and you suddenly breathe out heavily, moaning a little when the silk fell behind me onto your legs. I reach up and pull the pins from my hair to let it tumble across my shoulders and down my back.
I watch you watching me as I run my hand across the black silk slip that covers my body . . . sliding the sheer slip against me . . . slowly pulling it up so you can see first the strip of hot pink lace across my hips, then the roundness of my stomach and finally the full swell of my breasts, straining against the pink lace roses. When I drop the slip to the floor, you close your eyes. "Untie me," you moan. I just ignore you. I lean across you and pick up a strawberry from the dish on the table by the bed. "These were the juiciest strawberries I could find," I say as I lean closer to you . . . my breasts almost spilling out of the lace. I stop for a moment, savoring the feel of their weight against the brief bra. Then I hold the berry before you and run my tongue across it, licking it just inches from your mouth . . . biting into its icy sweetness . . . dripping the juice across your chest as I suck the fruit into my mouth. "Sorry," I say and bend down to lick the juice from your skin.
My mouth is cool against the heat of your flesh, and you writhe under my touch. "Untie me," you ask again, and again I ignore you. "What are you doing?" you ask. "Anything I want to." I reply, then I kiss you, plunging my tongue into your mouth. This kiss is hard and biting, hot with frustration and need. I pull back and look at you, my eyes half shut; I flick my tongue across my swollen lips. "Are you going to let me make love to you tonight?" you whisper fiercely. I smile, "Yes. All night, all of me, anything you want . . . when I’m ready."
"You’re ready now," you moan as you press yourself against my heat, "I can feel how hot and wet you are." I pull back, taking another strawberry from the bowl as I settle myself gently across your hips, the lace barely touching the your hardness. "I decide when I’m ready." I reply. You push your hips up under me, but I flex my thighs so that I’m just out of reach. When you relax again, I settle myself above you . . . watching you . . . still barely touching. With your eyes on my lips, I bite off the end of the strawberry and run the cut end of the fruit across my throat and over the swell of my breasts . . . leaving a trail of gleaming juice that seems to sizzle on my skin. I grow dizzy at the sensation, close my eyes and crush the berry into the hollow between my breasts. "I’m so hot." I moan. I open my eyes and see you watching me, more calmly than before. "I know," you whisper, "go on. I want to watch you."
I open my hand and look at the crushed berry, and then put it in my mouth. Some of the juice escapes at the corner of my mouth, and my tongue flicks out to catch it. You watch me, breathing deeply. I stroke my hands up over my sides and across my breasts, reveling in their fullness. My breasts grow hard and strain at the lace, so I reach behind me and unfasten the bra. Arching my back as my breasts fall free . . . watching you watch me, and glorying in your desire for me. I rock slightly on top of you, still barely touching, and we both moan at the touch. "Watch," I say as I run my hand slowly across my round belly and into the nest of pink lace between my legs, moaning at my own touch as I slowly stroke myself. When I open my eyes, you are smiling at me, but your eyes are black with need. "Touch me," you say, and I slowly lean forward. Taking another strawberry from the bowl, biting into it and letting the juice fall across you again . . . sucking it from your body . . . running my tongue across your nipples until you shudder. Then I arch my back, trailing the bleeding fruit across my stomach and thighs until I am slick and shinning with the juice. I hold the crushed berry to my mouth and then suck it in. Then I move forward again and kiss you, thrusting my tongue into your mouth and filling you with the taste of strawberries. "Now," you demand. I just smile as I sit up, moving my body gently over your hips. I slid away from the bed to stand beside you. I use one finger to pull the pink lace down from my hips, letting it fall to the floor.
Then I straddle you again; naked and sticky with the gleaming juice . . . my long hair sweeping across your chest. Easing myself down over you until you’re just barely inside me, barely touching. I look into your eyes and see the desire and love there. "Now." I say as I reach up to pull the end of the slipknot and free your hands at the same time as I plunge my hips into your own. You cry out as I cover you, then you roll me onto my back, running your hands across my arms, my breasts, cradling my face as you kiss me savagely. All the while thrusting into me as if you can’t stop, will never stop. I cling to you, grasping because you feel so good inside my. The feel of your body hot and strong and hard against me, inside me, pushed me out of the limbo of lust I’d been drifting through and over the edge of my orgasm, and I claw at you and cry out as it comes, feeling you shudder with your own climax.
You hold me tightly against you, drawing your breaths in huge shuddering gasps. "Don’t ever do that again," you finally moan, "you damn near killed me." "I thought you liked it," I whisper. "I did, but never again. It was too much." You roughly say as you start kissing me, you lips soft on mine. You begin to explore my body with your tongue . . . licking the stickiness from my skin, kissing me over and over . . . exhausted from lovemaking but still needing me. "I liked it," I sleepily say. "I could tell," you reply as you pull the edge of the comforter over us and run your hand up and down my back until I fall asleep. But you can’t seem to fall asleep, and when you wake me up half an hour later, still crazy with need, we make love with even more intensity than before. We continue until totally exhausted, and fall asleep in each other’s arms . . . as the morning sun peeks around the window shade.

Written 09/98 by Night Angel