The Blue Sarree
The unwrapping of Snama, was a slow, almost agonizing process. With each little movement of his hands as Neshe unwound her sarree, he rained kisses and nips on her as she dawned from the silk.
Her neck, her shoulders, her arms, all received their share, some small and flitting, others wet and long and lingering. His hands denuded her of her blouse. Her breasts grew proud and heavy under his hands and mouth and lips and tongue, her nipples hard and then soft with his suckling at them.
His lips kindled a trail of clinging sparks across her belly as he unwrapped the sarree from her waist, his hands tarrying, his fingers teasing on the sweet swell of her hips as he slid the belt of her petticoat past them.
His lips and mouth followed his hands and fingers across her thighs and calves, small, butterfly kisses here, lingering, laving kisses there, little nips in between, right to her well formed ankles and the sweetly pink soles of her feet.
With the petticoat out of the way, Neshe simply turned her on to her belly. And for a moment he was just transfixed. Hennaed scrolls on either side of Snama's spine, gently curving down and inwards, beckoning his eyes to the cleave between her warm, inviting woman mounds.
With a sharp, loud exhalation of breath, he pulled her on to his
lap, her legs parted wide, either side of his waist.
That was when Snama's agony of pleasure transmuted into an ordeal.
He didn't do anything, didn't say anything. The only sign of his life was a slight shortening of his breath, and the palpable heat of his gaze.
Snama wished he would do something, make a move, say some of the words he'd taught her, but he just was there, immobile except for the shortness of his breathing, his focused gaze burning into her.
It took all of Snama's strength of will to stay still, not to squirm, or to slide away from his lap, to cry out. She closed her eyes to obviate him, herself, them.
The only result was a heightening of the sensation of heat wherever there bodies were touching, an even greater searing heat from his gaze which she felt was boring into her, penetrating her shamelessly, inexorably.
Neshe's breathing and the ticking of the clock were the only sounds she heard, along with the heavy thudding of her heart which she felt beat somewhere between her buttocks.
More fire was added to the already engulfing flames. She could sense his manroot throb now, underneath her thighs, regaining its strength from the visual feast Neshe had made of her.
She broke.
Her body trembled, her hips quivered, her buttocks clenched and unclenched repeatedly, she felt her kuss pulse, and spew out a thin, sharp stream of her juices on Neshe's cock and thighs.
So intense was the orgasm she experienced that she went totally limp, almost unconscious. Neshe lay beside her and fell off into dreamland.
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