Lesson One
- 2 years ago
- 15
- 0
Lesson Plans free porn video
When we arrive to your hotel, I gather my skirts teasingly on my exit. You don’t bother to muffle your tortured groan as my back arches upon standing. I stretch after the half-hour ride, arms to the sky. The wait is drawing on my patience, and admittedly I’m looking forward to a nice drink and romp by the night’s end. A murmured ‘thanks’ and metallic door slam mark the end of our taxi excursion.
“Baby,” you call conspiratorially from behind. I face you with a heady look, biting my lip. It stops you in your tracks.
“Bad girl,” are the words I’ve been craving to hear, though you growl them as several people wander by. I could not care less what their opinions are on your lust. I much rather prefer to know yours. I blow you a kiss, taking you by the hand into the lobby.
________________________________________
I always have a sardonic appreciation for the easy listening muzak in elevators, but you make me gasp for air laughing when you start air guitar-ing by the fifth floor. We’re situated on the ninth, in a suite that most impressed me with its variety of furniture and view of D.C. across the river. I do enjoy the finer things sometimes.
We reach our floor in a dramatic flourish, as you take a sweeping bow and nearly head-butt the frightened housekeeper upon stepping out. I cover my mouth to hide giggling during your heartfelt apology. Embarrassment turns you a nice shade of crimson. It doesn’t escape my mind how red you may turn otherwise. She hustles off, calling you a ‘nice, silly man’ in Tagalog before turning the corner. You raise your eyebrows then shrug sheepishly.
“I wasn’t trying to pull a Mortal Kombat, you know.”
I roll eyes at you, sticking my tongue out. “She just thinks you’re weird. So do I but that’s part of your charm, mister.”
This brings on a facet of you previously unseen. Pride and something darker straightens your spine. That stare is weighted as if for more private matters.
“Mister, you say?”
I sashay down the corridor, tousling my hair seductively. “Coming, sir?”
“If you talked like this more often, I don’t think you’d be so careless with your teases,” you muse with a confident, frazzled edge. I catch the keycard as you toss it several feet my way, landing conveniently in my blouse.
3-0. This score is starting to unnerve me. I’m determined to best you.
“Makin’ me want to fuck the date and get on with dessert.”
I nearly drop the card in my fingers before swiping open the mahogany door. You switch on the warm incandescent lights. I raise my eyebrows in appraisal; from the lovely chaise lounge chairs to the impossibly fluffy queen bed, this was a very nice find. I run a casual hand back through my curls, and yours joins it in tenderness that liquefies me. You’re all too acute to my replies.
A daring caress grips thigh, travels along my ass and squeezes so tightly I all but jump forward into the room. But I whimper with longing when you pull me back by my hair and against a very convincing hardness. And it isn’t the phone in your jeans either. I hear your luggage topple, feel the ghost of breath teasing my exposed shoulder. My cardigan is leaving my arms as you speak four sweltering words: ‘Undress for me now.’
“What about the date—“
“I will take you out whenever you like. That’s after I see how gorgeous that dress looks. OFF of your delicious body.”
My eyes flutter open and closed. I am so riled that speaking isn’t my usual witty train of thought. Mind is clouded by your charisma, the power you hold over me. You leave my side and bend over to your suitcase, unzipping it meaningfully. I peer around you for a closer glimpse.
“Get to work,” you order softly, your back still to me as you rummage through with one hand. I think to retort while my stiletto clicks impatiently on the linoleum. But when your standing up reveals to me an array of sex toys (all meant to punish), the sassiness leaves.
“Yes.”
With a deliberate care each is laid next to the other on countertop marble. With hem gathered tightly, I raise my gown past my midriff. The pay-off wouldn’t taste as sweet if I undressed all at once. And true to my thoughts, your impossibly tempting eyes pin me still.
“Your stomach’s pretty as the rest of you. But don’t tell me this is the point you start to go shy on me,” the words are darkly seductive, made more so by the last of your toys to be unpacked: a gorgeous harness with fastenings all over. My eyes may betray me in their naiveté, even as the chiffon fabric glides down over me again. It is better to shimmy out a gown than pull it over.
Your approval gleams brightly as the setting sun against the mirrors. You must want to help me, despite the hands-off role chosen on your behalf. I drag out your desires with a lazy tug on my neckline. Each trembling breast is begging for escape, yet I cannot get over how captivated you have become. So the power dance ensues for longer.
“I said I wanted it off,” you warn me playfully, circling me as my antics grow bolder. I’m reaching underneath my flowing skirts in a very provocative way. I saw no point in wearing panties if A) you were part of my plans and B) my clothes were floor-length.
“You never said I had to do it immediately.”
I spin happily in place, bending over to hide my toplessness at your tortured expense. The growls you make are so a****listic they send anticipatory shivers through me. My lip disappears between my teeth again.
“It was implied, girl.” I glance to you for the third time, seeing clearly that the game is thrilling us both. If it were possible for a hard-on to destroy a decent pair of jeans yours would be unapologetically torn in the front.
“Baby doll.”
“Yes?” I squeal in delight, loving your pet names. Now my sweetheart neckline has fallen past my hips and slid down my restless thighs. I am almost nude before you. The silken material tickles on its descent.
“Don’t hide yourself. I order you to show me.”
I look down to see both forearms shielding my chest from view. It is more difficult for some reason, this sudden shift from cover to exposition. Can you sense my nervousness? Does it peep through to your searching gaze like my flusters? I am on the precipice of giving in. What will it take?
Strong, calloused hands take my forearms and yank them away. I yelp in surprise; it certainly wasn’t my expectation to be forced into action. But then again…you are my sir. And I must be coached into obeying. Your uncovering doesn’t lack its own affection, while sweet suckling kisses land over my shoulders and down the valley of my chest. The dress departs from me soon as your touch.
You put the chaise some scant inches away from my feet, settling into it like the master you are. With a low, appreciative whistle I feel roughened fingertips glide along my legs and derriere.
“Naughty princess, made me break character for a minute…”
There’s amusement and a hint of reprisal left in your words. You’re cultivating a challenge for me, the navigation of this dark new world we’ve both opened ourselves to. I want very much for you to be my guide.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I speak softly. My skin radiates with longing for that experienced touch.
“You’re learning, sweetheart. Luckily you catch on really quickly so I don’t have to repeat myself much.”
All of a sudden, two very determined hands catch me and spank my rear so roughly the air vacates my lungs.
“What do you think I’m trying to teach you right now?”
~ To Be Continued ~
“Baby,” you call conspiratorially from behind. I face you with a heady look, biting my lip. It stops you in your tracks.
“Bad girl,” are the words I’ve been craving to hear, though you growl them as several people wander by. I could not care less what their opinions are on your lust. I much rather prefer to know yours. I blow you a kiss, taking you by the hand into the lobby.
________________________________________
I always have a sardonic appreciation for the easy listening muzak in elevators, but you make me gasp for air laughing when you start air guitar-ing by the fifth floor. We’re situated on the ninth, in a suite that most impressed me with its variety of furniture and view of D.C. across the river. I do enjoy the finer things sometimes.
We reach our floor in a dramatic flourish, as you take a sweeping bow and nearly head-butt the frightened housekeeper upon stepping out. I cover my mouth to hide giggling during your heartfelt apology. Embarrassment turns you a nice shade of crimson. It doesn’t escape my mind how red you may turn otherwise. She hustles off, calling you a ‘nice, silly man’ in Tagalog before turning the corner. You raise your eyebrows then shrug sheepishly.
“I wasn’t trying to pull a Mortal Kombat, you know.”
I roll eyes at you, sticking my tongue out. “She just thinks you’re weird. So do I but that’s part of your charm, mister.”
This brings on a facet of you previously unseen. Pride and something darker straightens your spine. That stare is weighted as if for more private matters.
“Mister, you say?”
I sashay down the corridor, tousling my hair seductively. “Coming, sir?”
“If you talked like this more often, I don’t think you’d be so careless with your teases,” you muse with a confident, frazzled edge. I catch the keycard as you toss it several feet my way, landing conveniently in my blouse.
3-0. This score is starting to unnerve me. I’m determined to best you.
“Makin’ me want to fuck the date and get on with dessert.”
I nearly drop the card in my fingers before swiping open the mahogany door. You switch on the warm incandescent lights. I raise my eyebrows in appraisal; from the lovely chaise lounge chairs to the impossibly fluffy queen bed, this was a very nice find. I run a casual hand back through my curls, and yours joins it in tenderness that liquefies me. You’re all too acute to my replies.
A daring caress grips thigh, travels along my ass and squeezes so tightly I all but jump forward into the room. But I whimper with longing when you pull me back by my hair and against a very convincing hardness. And it isn’t the phone in your jeans either. I hear your luggage topple, feel the ghost of breath teasing my exposed shoulder. My cardigan is leaving my arms as you speak four sweltering words: ‘Undress for me now.’
“What about the date—“
“I will take you out whenever you like. That’s after I see how gorgeous that dress looks. OFF of your delicious body.”
My eyes flutter open and closed. I am so riled that speaking isn’t my usual witty train of thought. Mind is clouded by your charisma, the power you hold over me. You leave my side and bend over to your suitcase, unzipping it meaningfully. I peer around you for a closer glimpse.
“Get to work,” you order softly, your back still to me as you rummage through with one hand. I think to retort while my stiletto clicks impatiently on the linoleum. But when your standing up reveals to me an array of sex toys (all meant to punish), the sassiness leaves.
“Yes.”
With a deliberate care each is laid next to the other on countertop marble. With hem gathered tightly, I raise my gown past my midriff. The pay-off wouldn’t taste as sweet if I undressed all at once. And true to my thoughts, your impossibly tempting eyes pin me still.
“Your stomach’s pretty as the rest of you. But don’t tell me this is the point you start to go shy on me,” the words are darkly seductive, made more so by the last of your toys to be unpacked: a gorgeous harness with fastenings all over. My eyes may betray me in their naiveté, even as the chiffon fabric glides down over me again. It is better to shimmy out a gown than pull it over.
Your approval gleams brightly as the setting sun against the mirrors. You must want to help me, despite the hands-off role chosen on your behalf. I drag out your desires with a lazy tug on my neckline. Each trembling breast is begging for escape, yet I cannot get over how captivated you have become. So the power dance ensues for longer.
“I said I wanted it off,” you warn me playfully, circling me as my antics grow bolder. I’m reaching underneath my flowing skirts in a very provocative way. I saw no point in wearing panties if A) you were part of my plans and B) my clothes were floor-length.
“You never said I had to do it immediately.”
I spin happily in place, bending over to hide my toplessness at your tortured expense. The growls you make are so a****listic they send anticipatory shivers through me. My lip disappears between my teeth again.
“It was implied, girl.” I glance to you for the third time, seeing clearly that the game is thrilling us both. If it were possible for a hard-on to destroy a decent pair of jeans yours would be unapologetically torn in the front.
“Baby doll.”
“Yes?” I squeal in delight, loving your pet names. Now my sweetheart neckline has fallen past my hips and slid down my restless thighs. I am almost nude before you. The silken material tickles on its descent.
“Don’t hide yourself. I order you to show me.”
I look down to see both forearms shielding my chest from view. It is more difficult for some reason, this sudden shift from cover to exposition. Can you sense my nervousness? Does it peep through to your searching gaze like my flusters? I am on the precipice of giving in. What will it take?
Strong, calloused hands take my forearms and yank them away. I yelp in surprise; it certainly wasn’t my expectation to be forced into action. But then again…you are my sir. And I must be coached into obeying. Your uncovering doesn’t lack its own affection, while sweet suckling kisses land over my shoulders and down the valley of my chest. The dress departs from me soon as your touch.
You put the chaise some scant inches away from my feet, settling into it like the master you are. With a low, appreciative whistle I feel roughened fingertips glide along my legs and derriere.
“Naughty princess, made me break character for a minute…”
There’s amusement and a hint of reprisal left in your words. You’re cultivating a challenge for me, the navigation of this dark new world we’ve both opened ourselves to. I want very much for you to be my guide.
“I’m sorry, sir,” I speak softly. My skin radiates with longing for that experienced touch.
“You’re learning, sweetheart. Luckily you catch on really quickly so I don’t have to repeat myself much.”
All of a sudden, two very determined hands catch me and spank my rear so roughly the air vacates my lungs.
“What do you think I’m trying to teach you right now?”
~ To Be Continued ~
Grace
- 10.05.2021
- 6
- 0
