Might it happen

Swiftly, you are both through the door. A bedroom lay within, spare by the late Victorian standards of the house: a four-poster bed, two chairs, a shuttered window, a washstand and basin, a dresser. She turned and regarded you, her eyes boring into you, stripping your soul bare. With trembling hands, you started to undress, … [Read more…]

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Lena loves the taste of vagina in the evening.
In your surprise, you could do nothing but open your lips to her. Your
mouths touched, and the touch was electric. Her tongue slid in without
resistance, meeting yours, probing, searching. Her body pressed
against yours, and through your dress and corset you could feel hers,
hard and trim. One arm was wrapped around your waist, the other
stroking your hair. You clutched at her back, devoid of thought,
writhing in her grasp. When she finally raised her head, your eyes
were closed, panting. No mere hint of arousal now: you could feel the
moisture between your legs, demanding, begging for more. After an
instant she retrieved her crop, and led you up the staircase. You
followed behind her by one pace, meek, afraid but far too lost in
desire to resist anything. Up the stairs, down a hall, through a door,
another hall, until you were lost in the maze-like mansion, until
finally you reach a door for which she produces a key. (Who is this
woman, you think, who has keys to a house she does not live in.)

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Putting the crop aside, her right hand slid into place on your back as
your left hands clasped; the band begun as if cued. Across the wood
floor, no one else around, the band sounding muffled and distant, the
two of you glided in a waltz. Your eyes were held by hers; you could
barely breathe, overwhelmed by emotion. Your body felt weak, but her
hand made it impossible to fall. And you could feel yourself growing
aroused; your nipples were erect (from the cold of the window, you told
yourself), and you feel the undefined tingling between your legs of
impending excitement. The dance was over after what seemed like an instant; she spun you at
the finale, bowing deeply as she still held your left hand. Again,
your eyes met, and her face lost any expression. You stood, gasping
for breath, wondering what would happen. Then, without haste but with
terrible determination, she pulled you to her, her arms clasped around
you, and lowered her mouth to yours.

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