The Latest Seduction

There is an art to dress­ing to seduce. I’m not talk­ing about sheer black stock­ings, lacy panties, and garter belts — any­one can do that. I’m talk­ing about seduc­ing some­one whom you know really well — you know their pref­er­ences, their predilec­tions. You know them so well that, sure, you could lay back on the bed, legs spread, and tell them, “hey come here and fuck me”, but really, where’s the fun in that?

Pale blue tank top, lacy straps, the whole thing just slightly too large, so that it pulls down in front to reveal a hint of the cups of your bra — sheer brown that shades your skin to the dark brown of your nip­ples. Baggy men’s shorts, falling off hip­bones to reveal a slice of brown tummy. It doesn’t really mat­ter what they look like — your secret weapon lies beneath them. For now, he only gets a hint of pink lace to let him know what’s coming.

He is a man drawn in to cleav­age. When he sees you, his eyes darken, his breath quick­ens, he leans in to press hun­gry kisses along your exposed col­lar­bone. His rough stub­ble against your per­fumed skin — he inhales your scent like he’d like to eat you. His hands steal into the top of your shirt to lift out your breasts still encased in sheer brown net. You can almost see his mouth start to water as he thinks about tast­ing your nip­ples. But this is your seduc­tion — you push him away, tell him down, boy. You have your own idea of how things should go.

Turn around, bend down to slip off your shoes. You can feel his eyes burn­ing a trail into your skin as they travel up your long brown legs, back up to your waist where you’re pulling the shorts off bal­ance — no need to unbut­ton them, they’ll fall off your hip­bones if you let them. You ease them over your hips, drop­ping them down a lit­tle bit at a time. When the waist­band clears the bot­tom of your cheeks, and you hear his gasp, you can smile and let them drop down all the way. You glance over your shoul­der, look­ing through a veil of dark curls. He is a man pos­sessed, a man held in thrall, all by the power of your suc­cu­lent ass, per­fectly framed in pink lace panties that hug the curves of your bot­tom while leav­ing the golden flesh bared to his gaze.

He makes a stran­gled noise deep in his throat, and you smile. His clothes fly off, and he’s on his back, erec­tion arch­ing into the air, he’s reach­ing for you, beg­ging for you, but you just smile. A slow striptease draws the moment out fur­ther. You leave the panties for last, slip­ping them off just before you strad­dle his body, take his erec­tion in your hands and rub him between your legs so he can feel just how wet you are. He’s speech­less, beyond mak­ing coher­ant words come out — now he’d beg­ging with his body, arch­ing his hips, try­ing to thrust against you. His pupils are huge and dark, mouth slightly open as he reaches the edge of his san­ity and starts to lose control.

The sex is…well, it’s your show after all. You slid­ing up and down the length of his cock, hands on his chest to show him who’s in charge. Teas­ing him with the tight mus­cles of your thighs and cunt, milk­ing him, fuck­ing him, rid­ing him. Lean­ing over to kiss him through the cur­tain of your hair as the first orgasm hits you and you gush all over his cock and belly, so slick, so hot, grind­ing and growl­ing as you work his body over.

He’s close — you can tell because you know his body. You push him off, over and over again, but you know he can’t take much more. He won’t be able to last much longer. Grind­ing your hips, buck­ing your ass, he starts to come inside you and you milk his cock, demand­ing every last drop until he’s com­pletely spent, totally drained, lay­ing limp beneath you, eye­lids flut­ter­ing. You smile, you laugh –pure delight. You cud­dle him, you kiss, he lays his head against your breast — too spent for words, he sleeps while you think, plot­ting and plan­ning the next seduction.