Honey was topless, except for the bra that she’d been wearing under the blouse.
It wasn’t a costume bra with the usual frills and fringes, but rather an everyday bra that women wear.
But on Honey it was special. It wasn’t really everyday in any sense of the word. Black and sheer, it tried to cover all of her breasts. But there was just too much for it to handle, and there were luscious mounds above the cups.
She was still facing me, letting her hips sway provocatively in time to the music as she brought her hands up the sides of her face. For several moments she let her fingertips sweep the mass of honey away from her shoulders, as though getting ready for her bath but not in a hurry to get undressed.
Of course that series of movements only caused her breasts to surge forward even more and strait against the restricting bra. And then, quite casually, her hands were going behind her back. It took her a long and agonizing period of time to get the hooks undone.
The wait had been worth it. I couldn’t see the back of her but I knew the moment the hooks had been unfastened. The front of her bra suddenly shot forward due to the pressure. Her right arm crossed her chest, just under her breasts, and while she wriggled sensually out of the left shoulder strap the tips of her lovely breasts were still concealed.
After that the left arm took the place of the right one; and she was finally slipping out of the other shoulder strap. Now that her shoulders were beginning to sway as seductively as her hips, she suddenly took the bra away from her breasts and let it fall to the floor.
They were lovely breasts, the shade of light-caramel. Proud and magnificent, they rode high on her chest, so heavy that it seemed impossible for them to resist the force of gravity.
I remembered that I was holding a glass of scotch and!’ took a quick sip, recalling my wish earlier that evening. I’d wanted to get a good look at her, at her breasts; and now she was giving me more than just a good look.
Sensually her hands came up to them, to cup and stroke them, to massage them, as though she were trying to obliterate the lines that the tight bra had made on her soft skin. At the same time her head was thrown back and she’d jutted out her hips, the tip, of her tongue beginning to lick at the full lips as though she found the touch of her hands excruciatingly delightful.
It was a sensuous dance, but more than that, it was an exciting young woman giving the impression that she was alone, within the safety and confines of her apartment, disrobing either to retire or to step into the shower. Now I knew why she’d worked out the act.
She was trying to convey that she’d come home, arriving in her street clothes; and the scene was one of a sexy and passionate maiden on fire and lusting for the touch of a man. And for a man watching, it gave the connotation of coming unexpectedly into her apartment because she’d left the door ajar on purpose, or watching her from next door because she’d deliberately moved in front of the window where the shades hadn’t been drawn.
I’d never thought of myself as having the traits of a Peeping Tom; but Honey was changing all that. Occasionally, as she turned her head either to the left or the right, the tip of her red tongue moistly licked at one of the bare shoulders.
While her hands continued to caress the lovely breasts they filled out even more, the nipples enlarging and becoming stiff, their delicate pink hues darkening to the shade of cherries.
Slowly her hands moved away from her breasts. Her palms pressed tightly against the skin of her stomach as her hands moved downwards, slowly and passionately, to stroke her weaving sides and flanks.
Suddenly she tossed her head back, as though the hunger had erupted within her and the wanting was too much to bear. Her hand went to the zipper at the side of her skirt, lingered there momentarily, and then moved away again. She gave the impression that she might be afraid to remove her clothing because she’d be unable to cope with the consequence.
But after a few bars of the music the hand returned to the zipper again. While her hips moved and gyrated more noticeable, the hand began to move the zipper.
Slowly at first, and then with a savage thrust her hand moved it all the way down.
Now both thumbs were hooked into the waist of her open skirt, forcing it over her full hips. The top of the black sheer half-slip became visible as the skirt began to move downward.
Seductively she began to slide it down her thighs, bending forward slightly as she did that, her heavy breasts moving only slightly as she squirmed and wiggled. The strands of honey-colored hair tumbled forward. As she straightened up and kicked the skirt aside, the breasts were screened by the golden mist of hair.
I found that I’d been squirming about on the couch, the drink forgotten in my hand as I stared at her. Not too long ago it had gotten very warm in the apartment; and I could hear the drumming of my heart as I watched her begin to slither out of the half-slip.
Her glance was fixed on my face and I could see the tip of her tongue sweeping erratically across the red fullness of her lower lips. Her eyes had darkened and I found the heat flickering in their depths, her quick breath causing the breasts to surge markedly.
With our glances locked I suddenly realized that the sensuality of the dance had actually gotten to her. It wasn’t a routine anymore. It was no longer merely a young woman who pretended that she was fighting the hunger and passion that coursed through her.
At some moment Honey had become a slave to her own passion and now every movement was natural, the sly techniques that every woman possessed and used when she meant to have a man I was positive of it. Because the moment the half-slip had fallen to the rug and she’d kicked it aside, the record had ended. There was no more music; but Honey continued her dance because she was completely unaware of the stillness in the apartment.
She was now topless. She was a wild and wanton woman who squirmed her hips and shifted her shoulders so the ends of her honey-colored hair could caress her turgid breasts and stiffened nipples.
Down below she was wearing a G-string type of thing. It was not much larger than an eye patch with the two elastic bands leading away from the groin like two long fingers that clasped her hip bone. Her legs were long, almost perfect, the thighs firm and the muscles ripply visibly under the caramel skin as she twisted and rotated exotically.
She was even more exciting then I’d guessed; and as if she had read my thoughts, she moved slowly towards me, stopping at the edge of the couch to stare down at me through long dark lashes. She was close enough for me to reach out and touch her.
That’s what I wanted to do, and I knew that’s what she ‘wanted me to do. Slowly I brought my hand forward and let my fingertips move lightly across her surging abdomen.
Her skin was like heated silk, and as my fingers stroked the front of her, sliding across the patch and moving out toward her hips, I could feel the shivers that rippled through her and increased the tempo of her movements.
With the tip of her tongue jabbing erratically at her lower lip, she moved and swayed, stepping back demurely so that I could no longer touch her. Coming in again, she let me stroke and caress her more. All the while she was teasing, tantalizing, offering me the delights of her skin and then taking it away again.
As she retreated towards the center of the room, I rolled onto my sides and set my glass next to the lamp on the end table. Then I slid forward to the edge of the couch. I was sitting upright with my feet planted on the floor as I waited for her to return.
She watched me and she knew what I’d done. Then she was coming towards me again, her hips not gyrating quite as much as before. Instead, she shoved her groin forward, and with her knees slightly bent she moved towards me on bare feet, her groin moving in slow and sensual bumps.
I waited, letting her come as near to me as she wanted. When she was about three feet away she tossed her head. Then her hands were moving the storm of her hair to the back of her shoulders. Her hands came down and settled on her hips and she was bent back slightly at the waist.
Her feet began to move apart and then she came towards me, bringing the black patch of the G-string closer to me, another foot nearer, and then she stopped, offering it to me as she continued the leisurely and sensuous bumps.
I brought my hands forward, letting them lightly stroke the outside of her thighs. I slid my palms up and over the flaring hips, let them slide down again. This time when my hands traveled up the outside of her thighs they stopped at the elastic bands stretched over her hip bones.
Gently and very slowly I let my fingers sink into her hot moist skin until my fingertips’ were hooked on the elastic; and then I was bringing my hands down, pulling the elastic along with them, arriving at the second elastic strand, and hooking my fingers in it, too.
Carefully I pulled it downward, seeing the slack that had developed in the black patch, watching it slowly separate from her and slip away from what it had been covering. And now, as I pulled the elastic bands down her thighs, she brought her legs together. With little tension on the bands, I stripped the G-string over her knees and down to her calves.
Honey lifted one foot and I let her step out of it, then the other one. When she was finally free of it, I flung it aside. Again Honey moved away from me.
With her head tipped back and the long lashes resting on her cheekbones I couldn’t tell whether she was watching me or not. It didn’t make any difference. I’d already shrugged out of my coat and now I was quickly getting rid of my tie and shirt.
As I flung my shirt aside she moved towards me again. I managed to get my slacks unbuttoned before she stopped in front of me; and now as I reached out and let my hands stroke the insides and outsides of each thigh in turn, I could feel myself beginning to tremble.
With a choked cry, she staggered a few steps away from me. The palms of her hands were pressed tightly against her skin and she began to rub herself roughly, mauling the hard and jutting breasts. As if hypnotized by her own actions her head dropped forward so that she could watch them. Then she slid her hands down the flatness of her stomach, angling them into the juncture of her thighs.
She was swaying and writhing like a willow caught in the gale, with happy little sounds bubbling in her throat as her hands massaged and caressed her groin. She ignored me completely. I got to my feet, rapidly getting out of the rest of my clothes. When I was as nude as Honey, she came towards me.
The hair had spilled across her cheeks and she was looking at me through slitted lashes. The muscles at the sides of her neck were taut. She made a tantalizing approach, pausing -often to shrug her shoulders so that the tips of her breasts were stroked by the strands of her hair. Then she seductively rubbed her silken thighs together.
Finally she was near enough to reach and my hands came forward, cupping her hot hips. She was still teasing, moving backwards again – just out of reach. I leaned forward touching the front of her lightly, letting my hands caress the flatness of her stomach. She began fidgeting and squirming luxuriously, as one of my hands rested on her hip, the other caressing the spot the patch had covered.
The moment I touched her there I felt the shiver that rippled through her lithe body. As her shoulders shot back, her groin shot forward and she offered herself to me completely. Gone was the tantalizing and the teasing. Now she was pushing herself hard against my hand and I loved the feel of her heated moistness, the smooth-shaven silken skin jammed against my fingers.
“Oh, Lincoln,” she murmured, “That feels so good. Make me feel good all over.”
She was bent backwards in a slight arc, offering herself to me while I stroked her. Then it must have been too much because she leaned further backwards so she could shove herself harder against my hand.
I slipped my hand out and put both my arms around her waist, hands at the small of her back. I had to brace myself to hold her upright, ramming the bottom part of me against the bottom part of her. With her shoulders swaying uncontrollably she mauled her femininity against me, the heat and wetness flaring the fires in my loins.
Vaguely I found myself appreciating the fact that she was tall because her heavy thrusting breasts were now only inches away from my face. The nipples swayed erratically from side to side, resembling fresh cherries waiting for the bite of sharp teeth.
But I didn’t bite them. Instead I caressed them with my tongue and lips, moving from one to the other. I was making contact with them whenever she moved them into my reach. Eventually she swayed and moved them less, arching her back; and shoving her chest out. All sideways movement had stopped.
“That’s it!” she cried out. “Take them, take me-”
She didn’t finish because I’d bitten the left one, finding it hot and rock-hard. I knew I had hurt her but the second I’d released it, she swung herself around and offered me the other one.
“Again!” she begged. “The same, the-”
She gurgled ecstatically as I nipped it the same way. Then I pulled my face away from her, and holding her tightly against me, swung her around and dumped her onto the couch.
The moment she hit she became a five pointed star with her arms and legs spread out, waiting for my arrival. I didn’t rush it. I came forward slowly, walking in between her restless legs until the front of my legs were pressed against the edge of the-couch. Her legs were lovely tentacles that slithered up and down my thighs, rubbing roughly, trying to fasten about me and pull me down on her.
It took a lot of will power but I stalled a moment so that I could look down and relish every part of her. The mass of honey-colored hair spilled about her face and her magnificent breasts were gorgeous candy mountains begging for attention. Her hips twitched, surging and rocking around on the couch; and her joy was a pulsating and moist invitation that I couldn’t ignore.
“Lincoln,” she was panting, “please. I’m yours. Take me! Hurt me! And do it now!”
“Sure, Honey.”
Her elbows were digging into the couch, trying to hoist herself upright.
“You’re lovely, Honey,” I said.
“But I’m so hot! I can’t stand it! Don’t make me wait!”
I didn’t make her wait. I just leaned forward and then sort of let my hands glide along the silken and moist texture of her thighs until my hands had reached her hips.
She was wiggling herself across the couch, moving herself toward me, whimpering incoherently, and shoving her hungriness towards me, lifting herself so that everything would be easier.
It was so easy. When she slid towards me, I slid towards her – and then we slid into each other. She was steaming, burning, and completely out of control.
I tried to hold her up by her hips but she had suddenly turned into a furiously hungry animal that needed to be appeased. I let her down and then I dove forward onto her, at the same time letting my weight drive into her, slamming against her so violently that I hoped I hadn’t hurt her. I hadn’t!
She enclosed me with her arms and legs and I was deep within the honey pot, immediately feeling the intense heat that flamed about me and throbbed spasmodically.
I wanted to catch her mouth with mine but she was whipping her head from side to side, groaning ecstatically, briefly motionless down below. Then the action began again. I tried to nurse at her wonderful breasts. I wanted to sink my teeth into the throbbing hardness of her nipples; but they resembled swirling and whirling clusters of ripe cherries lashed by a hurricane.
It seemed as though a gale was roaring against my eardrums; and I was clutching tightly to her, finding that I wasn’t able to keep up with her wild movements.
I powered against her and tried to match her violence and passion.
The moment she’d gushed the second time I finally became the master. The seething honey had shattered the pot and spilled itself all over me. It was all over the world. It was everywhere.
I flung myself at her, driving repeatedly into the luxurious and flaming core.
Now there was no more reason or thought, because everything was automatic.
There were the hammering and powerful thrusts which became more violent and faster. I was deep inside. I was enveloped with honey. I was coated with it and every second its heat and ecstasy became more unbearable. It was Saturday night – and I was with Honey. With Honey. Honey, Honey, Honey.
“Honey!”
The golden chasm jolted and convulsed and then shot up to envelop me completely. I welcomed it eagerly as I thundered into its very depths, where the heat and the passion was most savage.
Deep within I found what I wanted and needed; and then I was helpless and content, caught willingly in the raptures that were far more exciting than I’d ever expected.