There is something so sexual about getting it on in places other than the bedroom. The urgency of not quite making it upstairs gets me very excited; considering I was 2-hours late to meet The Artist it was amazing that we made it through the front door.
I threw my purse down on the couch as he pulled me into the kitchen. The Artist wanted me NOW; he pushed me up against the table sending papers and dishes flying onto the floor. His hands ran up and down my body taking in every inch. He bit my neck and pulled my dress down of my shoulders to reveal my breasts. He kissed them, and squeezed my nipples hard.
It was such a turn on seeing how much he loved my body, how sexually aggressive he became by my naked flesh. He was hard and full and I was aching to feel all of him. The artist pulled me off the table turning me around and pushing my upper body face down against the soft wood. He lifted my skirt, loving that I was not wearing anything underneath and devoured my ass with his eyes; his hands running over my every curve before pushing himself inside me.
He used me to make himself cum; I loved being his toy. Out of breath we stood silent, my dress around my waist my heels still on. I took his hand and threw him down onto the couch in the next room. He was still hard and I wanted more.
The Artist grabbed my neck squeezing tightly until it became hard to breathe. He lowered me down onto him and let me fuck him, controlling my every move with his hand around my throat. I moved so slowly feeling every sensation fully until I could no longer take it and I had to let go. As I came he spanked me hard, my flesh stinging slightly.
I collapsed forward onto his shoulder and let my teeth graze his neck along with the tip of my tongue. I couldn’t help but wonder if we would ever make it to his bedroom.
The Artist spanked my ass gently. “What was that for?” I asked. He laughed and told me next time not to be late. If he had only known where I had been…
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