I hear the dampened clicks of your heels as you walk over answer the door. You turn the knob slowly and swing open the door, smiling as you see me. You look fantastic. Your breasts heave under the impetus of tight corset around your waist. A short, translucent black film covers your pussy and ass. Knee-high boots with silver heels finish the ensemble. I look back up at your eyes. "Come in," you say, with just a hint of teasing in your voice. My cock is no longer just perking up.You direct me down the hall toward your bedroom. My eyes dart across the room, quickly surveying the space. A low dresser off to the left, the bed straight ahead, a nightstand next to it. And mirrors everywhere. I set my bag down at the foot of the bed and turn around, not exactly sure what to expect. You smile sweetly, almost innocently, and then say, "Get on your knees. I want to you to pleasure my pussy before I get off on fucking you." As I lower myself, you step forward, lift your skirt over me, and while. He would never make the first move, and eventually the fact that he hadn't even tried to take their hands by the end of the week irritated them completely. Each time it happened I knew it hurt him, although he did seem to be trying to drive them away.I was determined not to make the same mistake. I am not a patient person by nature, but I knew that to have any hope with him, I'd have to sit back and wait. Being friends with him was almost impossible at times. He liked to flirt and tease, and he had no idea how much that hurt me - to flirt with him, and smile, and know he had no idea the fires he stoked up inside me every time. To know he didn't really even know I existed, on a sexual plane at any rate. I would often go home after seeing him, alone, and masturbate to one orgasm after another while fantasizing about Erik - Erik smiling at me, Erik wrapping his big hands around my breasts, Erik, fucking me until I begged him to stop.Eventually my waiting paid off. There was one winter.
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