His troop of naked forms stand like sentinels, guarding over you, and you can sense the labor in their breathing, his fantasy fully fueled, he’s ready for you; his fingers held firm inside you, his kiss at your mouth, your lips locking with his, your tongues entwined, pressing together passionately.
Easing his fingers away, you feel the tight, sticky grip of your cunt slowly closing, gently breaking off your heavy kiss, giving way to his fingertips, visibly smothered in your silky slickness, coming closer to your tingling mouth, teasingly tempting, wanting you to greedily suck them clean of your own rich juice.
“You’re beautiful” he soothes as he climbs, his shoulders taking his weight, leveraging the strength of his upper body, towering over yours, his torso rising between your thighs, slipping his fingers from your mouth, finding them sucked clean, before leaning closer to kiss you more deeply.
And you more than match his passion, extending your tongue, deep and eager, tasting more of your sex in his mouth, as his cunt smothered kiss closes with yours.
You wrap your thighs around his waist, ankles crisscrossing behind his back, pulling him to you, wanting to feel the confidence in his cock.
But he resists the temptation, wrestling himself free, recoiling back down between your open thighs, his hands gripping to break your hold and stretch you further open.
His heart races with a pang of beguiled guilt, grieving for leaving your kiss behind, the heat of his breath offering the briefest warning before a storm of urgency raids your senses.
Giving way to harder groaning, his mouth locking around the hood of your clit, his wild tongue flicks and fucks, sucking on your tiny bud, demanding you shudder and moan, until pleading with intense pleasure.
Lashing at your clit, his tongue furious, his hands grip to pull you to him, sparks splintering inside you, igniting his imagination, watching you from beyond the mirrors, a witness to his own service, on his knees, your humble subject, subordinate and worshiping.
His mirrored lips return to your mouth and your fingers grip into the thick head of his hair, greedily returning his kiss! His confidence throbbing between his thighs, his insecurities toppling like dominoes as from the ashes of once little boy rises the phoenix of a man made real.
The light of the log fire burns on, shimmering brightly in the warm reflection of each mirror, the shadows dancing on the muscled tone of your body with his, the silhouettes of his entourage fantasy closing in, their many hands coming to carefully guide you, persuading you to a new position.
Climbing back up on all fours you hear him speak, appealing: “God, I want you fox” he pleads, his voice breaking with failing restraint, his eyes overcome with how good you look as you curl and curve before him.
Tilting your head upwards, your crown rising, your attention drawn in the direction of his voice, your eyes glimpsing open and finding his patiently waiting, eager with wanting, mesmeric and luring.
Your eyes slowly fall, drawn by a primal gravity, becoming peripherally aware of a well hung weight, just there between his thighs, his heavy phallus, hardened with wanting more of your attention.