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Big Tits

I saw her arrive home and the front door wasn’t even closed before she began to peel out of her clothes.

All of her clothes.

Furry winter parka first – hood pushed off her long hair, smile beaming out as she unzipped and shucked the coat down off her shoulders.

Without missing a beat, she kicked off her boots – revealing toe socks underneath, then instantly proceeded to hook her thumbs into both sides of her stretch jeans and shimmied her breathtaking hips to ease them down – past her vee – over her thighs, past her knees, over her calves.

Then she paused a moment to put one finger in her mouth – like a little girl – and slowly pirouette. Ankles bound together by her deflated pants.

She knew I was watching. Little minx.

Her pantied butt thrust out as she turned – highlighting the delightful S-shape of a woman. Not the traditional “front-on” one, but, have you ever noticed the beautiful back-and-forth curve of a woman – side-on? Start with her head, curve from her forehead around the back of her head, then through her neck – flowing into the next curve of her breasts. Oh, god, her breasts. At this point, still showcased by the “packaging” of her sweater, blouse, and I could only assume, some frilly little bra between the blouse and her skin. The amazing skin of her curving breasts. Yum.

But continuing down the “curving road” presented before me: back thru her centerline – to the fetching curve – of her butt. Round and wiggling. Teasing. FEELING my hand slide down and over – though I was yards away. And then the little curve of her knees – leading to the delightful swell of her calves – somewhat obscured by her almost-discarded pants – and finally finishing by sliding Escort Esenyurt along her feet – dancing on the tile of the entry hall. Now that is an S-curved road I always enjoy driving with my eyes.

Her eyes sparkled and teased as she stopped turning, squared up to face me, then grabbed the hem of her sweater with both hands and unceremoniously lifted up – up – and over her head. Dropping the fuzzy garment at her feet.

While my gaze still followed the sweater, her nimble fingers found the buttons on her blouse and – one by one – bottom to top – released them. Pop. Pop. Pop… and revealed the heady delight of her skin below. Teasing – and satisfying that tease – simultaneously.

My eyes followed the opening part between the edges of her blouse – slowly up and up – to reveal that there was, indeed, a whisp of lingerie yet cradling her breasts. Silver. Lacey. Reminding me of snow on her light-brown skin. I got a moment to appreciate the artwork before me as she slid the blouse off her shoulders and let it pool on the floor with her sweater.



There she was. Standing at the front door. In the entry hall. Wicked gleam in her eyes. Smirk on her lips. She knew EXACTLY what effect she was having on me – as I continued to pretend to ignore her – sitting 2 rooms away unable to read my book. But in reality was laser-scanning her form with my eyes. Eyes. Smile, neck, bosom heaving just enough to quicken my breathing. Bra-clad breasts. Bare belly. Panties matching the bra. Gorgeous thighs… knees… calves… those silly wadded-up pants – still tying her feet together – and the pile of clothing on the floor.

She held. Challenging me to ignore Escort Avcılar her – or to even pretend to do so.

I lost the challenge and laid my book on my lap – providing some well-needed cover to what was happening there. And openly licked my lips and smirked back at her.

Knowing that she was clearly “on stage”, she proceeded.

Slowly she slid her hands up her thighs. Teasing. Making me FEEL her thighs thru her hands. Slowly going higher. To reach the hem of her panties. Ah, her panties. Cradling one of her most-precious treasures.

She flattened her hands against her sides and ever-so-slowly slid them down into her waistband.

Never breaking eye contact.

SLOW-ly pressing her panties down.


Down her hips.

Hesitating as the whisps of her pubic hair sprang free.

Holding to let me properly greet those whisps from my position. Hello, pussy furr! OH! How I want to pet my kitten!

Another moment, then… down. down. To free her knickers from her hips and slide them down. Down. Never breaking eye contact. Down to meet her pants. Pooling around her ankles. Then slowly straightening back up to just display herself and let me celebrate her image.

With her beautiful vee on display. Her curves so perfectly shown head-on again. Her hips swelling and then, again, diminishing as my gaze slid down her form.

She absent-mindedly fluffed her furr – just barely making contact, but subconsciously primping – wanting even her pubic hair to be just right.

And then she just stood. Knowing how much I loved to see her this way.

Just let me enjoy her glory.

Lust radiated from me and engulfed her. Her beauty. Her intelligence. Her grace. Her naughty little minx self. And I just admired her for another second.

She slid her hands up her back, found her bra clasp – and released it – sliding her bra straps down her arms, freeing her delicious breasts – and letting her brassiere join the small pile of clothing on the floor. OH! what a delight to watch the gentle movement and wiggling of her form – multiplied by her naughty smile and radiant eyes.

“Come here, now, please, Kitten,” I asked.

She kicked off her pants and panties, then, totally naked except for her colorful toe socks, skipped across the carpet to me.

Deftly, she relieved me of my pants and briefs, then grabbed my hand and pulled me to a pillow on the floor – next to my wife – who was glistening from her exertion on her Yoga – and on Alejandro who was facing her, leading their two-person Yoga session.

Kitten very-carefully faced me and took my hardness inside of her as she sat on my lap, then hugged me all-over and began to rock – almost-imperceptibly – moving just enough to keep us aroused.

My wife reached out during a transition in the Yoga. She caught my hand in hers and our love engulfed us as we all slipped into a meditative glow.

I glanced over Kitten’s shoulder at Alejandro. I’m not an authority on men, but I suspected that his long, flowing hair, shining eyes, well-sculpted chest, and flat stomach – qualified as “not hard to look at”.

We all basked in the glow – feeling the warmth – and the heat – until the Yoga was finished.

Striking a small chime at his feet, Alejandro slowly rose while suggesting to my wife: “Just relax there on your mat. I’ll go start dinner, then come back and give you a massage”.

As he padded to the kitchen, Kitten pulled herself to me and began to purr as I petted her hair. Her neck. Her back. And… other parts. Our lips met and all was right with the world.

Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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