Which dress?

2 min read

photo: MetArt

Which Dress?

The edge of the vanity table she’s holding onto hits the wall of the hotel suite in a satisfying rhythm. She has pulled up her dress, just enough to allow me to penetrate her from behind. We are fucking in doggy, opposite our own reflection.

It all started innocently, as things usually do. She needed to decide on a dress to wear for her cousin’s wedding. She was curious about my opinion — or she might have just wanted to model for me– and brought along two different dresses to try.

Her body has a gorgeous shape but like most girls, she always finds something she wants to improve.

“If my arms only had more muscle…” she ponders while examining herself in front of the mirror. She has just slipped into a deep green satin dress that sits on her body as if made of liquid metal. The shape of it is perfect, but it is too large for her figure. It has an open back that shows her perfectly sculpted shoulder blades and hints all the way down her spine towards the glory.

I kiss the length of her arms, admiring their beautiful tone. I repeat once again that she is being too hard on herself, but to no avail. I help her out of the first dress since now she wants to try the second one. A short one, embroidered with flowers.

She stands in front of me with her arms up. Her body fills all of my visual space. And the smell of her skin is driving me wild. I catch the glance she gives me as she asks me: “Are you just going to stand there?” I fumble with the dress until I find the front and pull it over her. She looks fantastic. Every cell in her body is in the right place.

The look she throws at herself in the mirror is, again, critical. She pinches her belly: I don’t want this here! I offer my services as a gym buddy and she takes a bite of chocolate in celebration of our pact.

So much dressing and undressing has given me a hard on and she notices the bulge under my boxers. Quietly, she pulls my boxers down and the bottom of the dress up to then rub her firm ass against me as if by accident. It takes no time for me to recover from the surprise and for my shaft to find the entrance to her glory. Her wetness presents no resistance and I drive all the way in.

The image we face in the mirror is the kind you want to burn into your memory forever. Her beautiful long hair moving synchronously with my thrusts. That mischievous smile looking back at my reflection in the mirror. She tells me:

“Teddy, this is so hot… I love the faces you make.”

Both of us have a need to see each other when we are making love. The expression of pure sexual pleasure on each other’s face leaves us defenceless. It is fitness of a different kind.

Momentum is building. I can see her getting ready for impact. Her back curves up. I move my hands to cup her breasts and hold her in place as the first waves of her orgasm arrive.

“What are you doing to me?” asks her face in the mirror.

I pull her closer to me, open the zipper in the back and slide the dress off over her head, all while we are still one. The dress ends up on the floor and I continue holding her in this vertical position. I keep pumping and she finds the perfect angle to let me in as deep as it goes. I pull her hair to the side and she turns her face to me, her lips searching for mine.

The reflection in the mirror is of two transfixed figures amidst sexual delirium. Her arms reaching back to hold my body, my hands over her breasts and waist. Her second orgasm is building up and I am holding her in place like a drunkard, intoxicated by love.

She spasms on me. I look up at the collage of our skin tones, her shiny eyes and her sexed up figure. I catch a glimpse of the dresses, quiet witnesses to what had just happened. I don’t know if she has decided what to wear for the wedding, but I have the feeling that neither of us cares at that moment…

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