My hands hold you, squeezing you to me, stretching down over the curve of your rump and hips, feeling the firm of your thighs, gathering the material of your new green dress, drawing it up over your thighs, reaching my hands underneath, finding the exquisite feel of your bare thighs – returned to my palms.

You squeeze yourself onto my thigh, pressing your silky sex to the inside of your knickers, feeling their delicate lace rub against my denim, the strain of my cock aching underneath.

With a single sweeping movement, I draw you down onto the rug, breaking our kiss, our eyes burning, smoldering with the kindled flames of our deep Tantric intimacy.

I’m kneeling between your thighs, our eyes bright and woven, my hands unbuttoning my shirt, my shoulders rolling to free myself of my floral fitted shirt, my broad torso riding high above you, towering, lean and twisting, my wicked grin filled with knowing exactly what I want.

My hands come confidently stroking over the sheen of your shins, my palms curving over the caps of your knees, my fingers feeling underneath, into the cups, finding the soft sands of your stretching beautiful beach body, the curving swell of your thighs filling me with memories of Cuckmere Haven, up and over the Downs of our Sussex.

You dig your heels down into the rug, arching your hips heavenward, yielding to my need, my hands pushing your new green dress over your thighs, up over your hips, onto your waist. Revealing the naked beauty of your new knickers. My eyes delighting on their fit, how they cling, so snug and seductive.

Inhaling, I press my face between your thighs, my cheekbones brushing tender to your insides, my stubble threatening to rasp and graze. I’m breathing you in, hungry for your musk.

My mouth salivates, as I press the bridge of my nose into the soft bulge of your sex. Hearing your stir, feeling you squirm, my hands firm under your rump, squeezing you to my face, wanting to inhale you, wanting to eat you, wanting to drink you, wanting to rub you into my skin and absorb you like a lotion.

I open my jaw, pressing my mouth over the soft mound of your silk covered sex. I draw you inside my bite, slowly drawing my jaw to a close, a mock imitation of my biting into the soft flesh of your peach. My hands squeezing your buttocks, holding your pelvis to my mouth, twisting my face, pressing my hunger against you, starving, squirming with needing to chew the juices of your sex.

Your legs flexing, pushing yourself against my hunger. Your sex soaking through the silky fabric of your knickers. I push my tongue, flat and hard into the cusp of your labia, pressing you to open, pushing the soft silk inside, squeezing more of your juice, tasting your sex soaking through the pores of the silk.