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I laugh. ‘Do you know what the title actually means?’
‘It translates as, ‘I love you … Me neither.’
‘Interesting,’ I say.
‘That’s what couples in the throes of lovemaking say to each other,’ he says with a wink.
‘Right. I’ll be back in a minute,’ I say crisply, and taking my glass of cognac with me and swaying my hips with attitude, walk to the bedroom. I close the door and go to his wardrobe. I pull out a white shirt. Quickly, I undress. I leave my panties on, but take off my bra. I put on his shirt and leave it unbuttoned to the waist. I don’t do the last two end buttons either. Then I roll up the sleeves until my wrists show. Keeping my high heels on, I choose a blue striped tie and knot it loosely around the collar of Shane’s shirt. I put on my new super shiny lip gloss. Then I look around the drawers and find a cap. I arrange it at an angle on my head and look in the mirror.
The look is just what I wanted. A little bit ‘je ne sais quoi.’
I finish my glass of cognac, Dutch courage and all that, and walk out to the living room door and pop my head around the doorframe. He presses the remote on his hand and the music comes on. The old fashioned guitar cords of rhythm and bass guitars and snare drums fills the spaces between us.
‘Je t’aime, Je, t’aime,’ whispers in her breathy and ethereal voice, so high it is almost the unbroken voice of a little choirboy. But extremely erotic all the same.
I drape myself around the doorframe and, raising my leg slowly, caress the door with my foot. I step into the room and teasingly lift one edge of his shirt exposing the top of one thigh and a glimpse of my black lace panties. He doesn’t know my sex is already wet. I catch his eyes and he is staring at me, mesmerized, and that gives me the confidence to go on.
I tug at the tie and it comes off. Holding it in my hand, I twirl it before flinging it at him. He catches it mid-air.
I face away from him and, swaying my hips, let the shirt drop off one shoulder, exposing bare flesh. I drop the other end and the shirt falls to my mid back. I turn my head back and look at him and smile.
The look on his face, the lust in his eyes, is priceless.
Very slowly and still gyrating, I let the shirt fall farther still, until it is skimming the top of my bottom. I play with the material seductively before dropping it lower still. Right on the fleshiest part, I rub the material in a sawing motion. Then slowly I drop it further until my entire ass is exposed. I quickly unbutton the shirt and slip it completely off. Holding it at arm’s-length away, I allow it to dangle on one finger before letting it drop to the floor.
I gyrate the top half of my body in a large circle, like the belly dancers in France, so that all my hair falls forward and covers my breasts. Then I turn around and shimmy my hips as I walk towards him.
I put one leg on the sofa arm and immediately his eyes move to my pussy. He can see that the crotch of my panties is soaking wet. I put my hands around my neck and lift my hair so that my breasts are on display. The tips are hard and ready. Then I let my hair fall back into place again.
The heavy breathing noises of simulated sex start on the track.
I lick my glossed lips and he crooks a finger at me.
Instead of going to him, I make a pointing hand and slowly shake my finger at him while smiling regretfully.
He laughs, a deep sexy sound.
Lowering my hands, I begin caressing myself. Running them over my neck, circling my bare breasts, cupping the soft mounds of my bosom, and massaging them while my head is thrown back. I feel the ache in my nipples and rub my fingers lightly over the hardened swollen buds.
A sigh of pleasure escapes my mouth.
My hand roams lower and lower until it reaches the top of my panties. I linger tantalizingly before slowly letting my fingers slip behind the elastic. I look up to see his reaction. His gaze is transfixed on my fingers and he has a massive hard on. I move my finger in a circular motion. My breath hitches and becomes uneven.
‘Aaaa …’ I gasp.
I move to the coffee table and sit perkily on it. I am only three feet away from him. I place both hands on my knees, and I draw them up and spread them so he can see just how wet the material of my panties are. Leaving my legs suspended open, I lean back on one hand while the other slips over the crotch of my panties.
‘Oooo …’ I coo, my voice as breathy as Jane Birkin’s.
Hooking a finger into the side, I push the material out of the way and expose the glistening pink folds beneath. I let my clit protrude for a whole three seconds, or at least until his gaze comes up to meet mine. His eyes are dark with lust. There never was anything for me to worry about. He really, really, really still wants me.
He pushes forward suddenly and, grabbing my arm, pulls me forward, and with hair flying and legs flailing, I tumble into his arms. My cap slides down and falls in my lap.
‘Hey,’ I protest. ‘I’m not finished.’
‘Sorry. Time’s up. I can’t wait anymore,’ he says, his right hand ripping my panties.
He steps out of his pants and pulls his briefs off in a hurry. He lowers his head onto the couch and, holding me by the waist, lifts me up and over his face. He maneuvers my crotch over his mouth and slowly lowers my wet pussy over his extended waiting tongue. The hot, velvety tongue penetrates my flesh, and I cry out with pleasure and squirm. Holding me tight, he pumps in and out of me a few times.
