Previous: Escape Artist
She took her sweet time with the top hook, knowing that I was craving a deep breath. she ran her tongue over the tops of my breasts - they were spilling over like a loaf of bread baking in a pan that's too small for it, warm and soft inside. The second hook, the third hook, the fourth hook opened up and made room for that hot, wet tongue. She drew another kiss from my lips, but pulled away abruptly before I could really enjoy the moment. There were still 16 hooks to go, before my moment of freedom.
The fifth hook, she smiled and smoothed my hair; the sixth hook, I opened my legs a little bit revealing my thighs; the seventh hook, she reached under the shade, under the fabric and discovered my sweet surprise. Eighth, ninth, tenth hook, and then she guided my hand to the buckle of that beautiful leather belt that I gave her for the last time we saw each other. Upon unfastening it, I felt the firm readiness of her surprise.
The eleventh hook gave her a wicked smile. The twelfth hook was mine for smiling at, she hooked her left knee up in between my legs. By the thirteenth hook I was yanking at the waist of her slacks. Fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth hook - I was breathing better now and (since I am a bit of a talker) I started with the surge of words that I had been holding in the whole flight:
"Baby it was so hard to breathe, I kept wondering why I decided to do it. You liked it though, didn't you? Feeling it underneath my clothes and (gasp) wanting to unwrap your birthday present? You're going to make it worth my while, right? Aren't you going to unhook those last four hooks? I want your lips on me, I want..."
The words got stuck - seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty - she threw the corset into the back seat and hooked her thumb into the elastic of her boxers.
Next: Golden Opportunity