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.