“Did you bring it?”
But before you can reach for it, I’m kneeling beside you on the couch with my hand deep in your front pocket. (That makes it twice today that I had the audacity to penetrate your protective layer.)
“That’ll do.” And I hand it to you.
Your hard-on is in full effect now, my fingertips having grazed it just slightly, but purposefully, on my way in; carelessly allowing the roll of money to brush up against it on my way out. I stretch my leg across yours and suddenly I’m straddling you, moving my body in time to the music, grinding against you with familiarity and ease. Closing your eyes for a moment, you allow yourself to get lost in the fantasy. You love the feel of me, losing yourself in the movements of my body against yours, but nothing can compete with how you breathe me in. I wear a unique, sophisticated scent which helps make it more real in your mind–the delicate scent on my skin mixed with the distinct smell of my pussy filling your senses, making you dizzy. You open your eyes and I stop my gyrations–our eyes locked hard, the tension tight. I bring my face so close to yours you think for a moment that I’m going to kiss you and you start to move in. Then you quickly remember where we are and stop yourself.
I gently remind you, “House rules: You’re not allowed to touch me in any way.”
You nod respectfully and I continue, leaning in, my breath hot in your ear, “But your money is.”