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With each step, the silken robe opened enough to grant a little glance at her smooth privates, and her dark aureoles clearly shone through the silk - but he didn’t seem to notice at all.
Slowly, she made her way across the room, stopped, unsure of whether they were just casually hanging out together or whether this was elaborate game in which she was expected to play a part. But whether it was or not, she thought, each nerve ending ablaze with the need to feel his touch, she was free to remain in the same mood of submissive excitement his initial command had catapulted her into.
Gracefully and with the ease of experience, she dropped to her knees beside him, casually leaning the side of her head against his knee. She, too could watch the film, but she had a hard time focussing her mind on it, especially, when after a while she felt his hand slowly, gently playing with her damp hair.
The tingling, for how small the touch was, seemed to radiate all the way into her toes.
Slowly, half subconsciously, she rubbed her nose and cheek against his thigh and except for a remaining, alert excitement, she was quite at peace, here, by his side, watching a movie with his hand in her hair.
It occurred to her, as in a corner of her mind she currently wasn’t occupying, that she could easy get up, cuddle herself into the couch, might even try to tease him enough until he’d give in and give her what she wanted. But just as clearly, she knew that she felt more at ease, felt more comfortable right here.
It was about half an hour into the film, when his hand started to wander a little. His knuckles brushed over her cheek, his thumb over her lips. Instinctively, she opened her mouth a little and slowly, he pushed his thumb past her lips, past her teeth and she began to suckle, softly, gently, and a warm feeling spread in her chest.
Soon, a thumb was replaced with his index and middle-finger and he began moving and back and forth in conscious imitation of his cock. It sent Mia tingling all over again. His hand tasted of salt and soap and oranges.
She had always loved them, his hands: strong, long-fingered, neither too soft nor too calloused.
“I missed you, baby…” His voice was soft but throaty, drenched in contentment and a hint of the same aching excitement that filled her own mind.
A deep, loving smile crossed her features and as to give her the chance to answer, he pulled his fingers from her mouth. After she turned her head to look at him, he softly brushed his saliva-coated index-finger over her lips, making them wet and shiny.
“And I you…” Mia replied in the same soft, throaty tone and then a sly, adoring grin crept into her features. “…Sir.”
Yeah, this makes me twitch on my chair.