Filigree

She meets his eye and only then begins her sultry serpentine recline; her glowing skin roused and somehow soothed by the plush velvet cord beneath, her body a delicate and supple arch slowly, deliberately sinking, laying bare her lust, playing out an enduring seduction, an attraction that has her flesh open and ready, always wanting and awakened.

Yet all the while she yearns, hungers for him to shatter this erotic measure, to take and possess her in a way that erases all lingering doubt about the certainty of his desire, to have him push her back a little roughly, his urgency rising as he tears to easy shreds the lace adorning the modesty throbbing, aching to be anything but, his mouth greedily devouring her pouting sex, his beard lightly scrapping a path up the feminine line for his lips to suckle violently on the hard, rosy nipple before entering her with a groan and fucking her with hard, deep, steady strokes that leave her breathless, trembling as each successive orgasm strikes through her like a bolt, his own release deferred until she cries she can take no more, until he unlocks his gleaming uncut cock from her embrace and anoints the lips of her cunt and the tautness of her belly with his searing come, the rained pattern of his seed the only filigree, the only adornment she truly craves and needs.