That black bra strap. That’s all it
took. As he stepped in the shower, his mind went back to the day before at the
table. There were both silent as they ate, but his eyes, they roamed over every
inch of her red-brown skin and landed on that strap.
He loved having sensitive nipples. He
heard some men thought nipple play was feminine, but he loved how his responded
to touch. He began to caress them as his mind took him on a journey. His right
hand now stroking his cock, bringing him to an intense hard on.
Images of him kissing those lips he
loved so much while freeing the two beautiful mounds of flesh constrained by
that black bra.
He imagined laying her down, her legs
up over his shoulders as he feasted, fingers exploring her orifices, tasting
her creamy center as she panted his name.
The journey moved along, with him now
standing over her, his hard cock ready to penetrate while he gazed at her
breasts, his hands gently flicking her erect nipples.
As he stroked his cock, moaning her
name, he grunted as he imagined push his full length into her, causing her to
gasp and cling to him, their lips meeting again, then trailing kisses down her
neck, to her collar bone, across her chest, to those nipples he was so ecstatic
to see. With hunger, passion, and lust, his tongue tickled and sucked making
her react as he continued sliding in and out of her.
She was close—he was close. With each
spurt of his orgasm, he grunted through clenched teeth her name. Each burst brought
him closer to the floor of the tub. His breaths were jagged and violent, he
stopped playing with his nipples and gripped his thigh.
Fuck. That black bra strap. What a
way to start his day.