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Lying there, in the middle of her bed, on top of the cool, crisp, white Broderie Anglais cover; so feminine against the heavy, black wrought iron bedstead. The soft classical notes of Debussy playing in the background, not loud enough to be an intrusion but loud enough to have an effect on her mind and body as the candles that were lit around the room flickered gently.

Her eyes were closed and yet she could see him as hands roamed over her body, touching but only just. Fingertips gently stroking down her neck to her chest, brushing over her nipples, making her gasp, before coming to rest upon her breasts. Hands caressing her heavy, full breasts, softly at first but then with more urgency. Nipples caught between fingers, finger that began their heavenly torture, each squeeze, pull, roll and pinch sending hot messages rushing through her body towards her core as her body began to writhe with the pleasure.

Hands that began to slide down…

Moans of desire falling from her breathless lips, all thoughts pushed from her head except thoughts of the path those hands were taking.

Skin tingling as the hands slip over her stomach, moving slowly down over her hips pausing for a while to stroke her hips with reverence before they began their journey again. Moving across the tops of her legs towards the silky, sensitive flesh of her inner thighs, each movement so slow, teasing her until they brushed against the place she wanted them so desperately.

Whimpering when the hands reached back up to her nipples again. Crying out when the fingers tightened and twisted, the pleasure only just out shining the pain.

Hands sliding back down now, stroking the thin strip of hair that led to her heat, fingers parting her swollen, soaked lips seeking and finding her hard bud. Fingers stroking and caressing the sensitive flesh, making her moan and writhe, sounds of pure pleasure filling the room.

Fingers slipping into her heat, two at first, instantly finding that little spot of heaven… Yes… That’s it, just there…

Her breath catching as a third and then fourth finger pushes in, joining the others, stretching and caressing whilst the fingers of the other hand plays intently with her bud. Her muscles begin to quiver as the hands push her hard and fast towards her release…

Her breathing erratic…

Her back arching…

A rush of pure ecstasy…

Essence flowing…

As she cries out his name…

Her eyes flicker open, tears run gently down her cheeks as the hands withdraw…

Her hands, not his.

© S.J Warner 2014.

(Picture sourced from the internet).

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