Holding her hands behind her back against her butt, I pulled her tight against me. No way could she miss my hardening now. She groaned into my mouth and pushed as she could to assist my efforts. As our tongues danced back and forth, she began to sway her hips and torso, rubbing her breasts against my chest and her pubic mound against my hardness. We stayed like that for what seemed an eternity. I was totally lost in the sensation that was her. The odor Iâ??d noticed before - her musky, heady, woman odor â?? was quite strong, beginning to mask the incense to some degree.

She pulled her hands from under mine, leaving mine to massage her ass as I continued to hold her midsection tight against mine and she continued her sensual swaying. She reached around behind me, pulled my shirttail from my pants, and slid her hands under to lightly stroke her fingernails around my back. She knew just the right degree of pressure, just the right speed, just the right path to push me even deeper into the spell she was weaving.

After what felt like a day or two of pure bliss, she brought her hands out, slipped her arms from under mine, reached up, placed her hands on my face, and with a groan separated our mouths. As I opened my eyes, I saw hers were glazed with desire, her face was flushed, mouth still open (what an incredibly sexy pink tongue in there), and her breath was short and rapid. "I've wanted you for so long. I've needed you for so long. You have no idea how much I have dreamed of you, yearned for you, died for you while you first ignored me, and then left me. But now you are here and at least for tonight you are mine and I am yours. Whatever you desire is yours." There was a subtle emphasis on "Whatever".

Then she quickly removed her t-shirt, dropped it on the floor beside us, and stared into my eyes. Her gaze was part lust, part love, and part fear. I've never seen a look so vulnerable yet so open and trusting. I slid my hands up from her butt along the small of her back to her bra strap. Her bra joined her t-shirt and the fear left her eyes. I can't describe her breasts â?? there are no words in any language. Perfection. Just a hint of sag. Areolas about the size of a half dollar, pink with just a hint of brown. Nipples about the size of the end of my little finger, sticking out about a half inch, slightly darker than the areolas. Her breathing caused her breasts to rise and fall in stark evidence of her lust.

I place a hand on the outer curve of each, cupping them, and began rubbing the tips of her nipples with my thumbs. Her eyes glazed a bit more just before she closed them and let out a combination of sigh and groan. As I massaged her breasts and toyed with her nipples, she unbuttoned my shirt. It was a difficult thing to remove my hands so she could slip my shirt off to drop it on the growing pile. My hands returned to her breasts as she begin stroking my chest, eyes still closed. After several strokes of fingernails, similar to the technique she used on my back, she traced to my nipples and began to pinch and roll them with her fingers. No woman had ever done that quite the way she did it and it sent signals straight to my groin, causing me to harden even further, although I did not think that possible. She felt it because the corners of her mouth twitched up like before. I soon learned that was a trait that indicated she was pleased with things.

- to be continued -