Long-standing tradition dictates that once the screaming stops and the swelling subsides (mostly subsides), I will position myself so that he can have free access to my breasts.
This would be easier were I naked but lately I’ve liked the feeling of my nipples popping out over something — and the more times they can pop out the better. Given the right outfit they can be tucked away and then spill forth dozens of times, each time more surprising than the last. 1
While we relax and talk his hands never stop moving. He plays along with my surprise-nipple fetish, pulling my top down to pinch and knead and cup hot handfuls and I want it never to stop. “I’d like to have this done to me all day long,” I say.
It would, he agrees, be nifty to possess a bra with a cunning built-in device that would mimic hands capable of caressing and tweaking and cupping all day long.
“No,” I say, “I’d rather just have you follow me around with your hands in my bra.”
Do you think anyone would notice?
- Yes, I know they’re in there and that they’re going to come back out. It’s still sexy and surprising. Is that so wrong? [↩]
Not to mitigate your desire, but I’m reminded of the sweater someone designed that could hug you all on it’s own. It would squeeze in that familiar feeling… I’m sure an alternate could be designed in intimate apparel!
Thank you for the concern, but *nothing* mitigates my desire these days. :)
Is that so wrong? Well, of course not! In fact, isn’t that part of the magic of sex- it doesn’t matter how many you’ve seen or done things, it’s still special when it happens! (Apparently I’m shy today, as my x-rated example was erased by the vague thing above….insert your own filthy metaphor, folks!)
So AAG, as usual, I love this entry. Would that I had someone like you to do that to! You’re lucky, and so is this mystery man :)