Do I tell her... I love to smell her... Just after a shower... As - TopicsExpress

Do I tell her... I love to smell her... Just after a shower... As the music plays... Primped and powder... Spritz from her private collection of perfume... They way she walks into the room... In only towel... Slightly on her tip toes... Her curtsy before sitting in front of vanity... Crossed legs commanding me... Be patient for something better is to come... Shows me her lineage of royalty... What her mother probably had done... Eloquent ... Touches of lipstick... Majestic ... Heaven sent... A queen she represent... Before brassiere as she cups her loves when I come near... Asking if I think theyre even... And I say Perfect... Then she adorns lace thong... Standing look back at where it belongs... Pats hips... Clutches one side wiggles it... As the crooner sings naughty positions... She listens... Bracing on wall she... Makes booty clap... To herself laughs... Moves and sits on my lap... Slow wine... Bites her lip... Whispered she loved that part ... Offers me a kiss... Saying she only wants audience as she dress... Pushed me to pillows... Performed her test... To my mouth lobbed her breast... Then gently toward my tummy ... Licked my waist... The essence chocolate she confessed was my taste... Diabetic shock would be the result if she proceeds ... If she became naked once more and began motions... Heavily breathe... But slowly from me she rose... Knowing this morning there were things to be accomplished requiring clothes... And later after our episodes we would be together ...Disrobed ... Her soft sigh... With kisses enclosed... That sway across room... Consumes... Opening doors ... To the closet she searches through attitudes... The click of hangers and shoes... Then stumbling she utters profanities... Glancing back at the man in me... As I smirk ... Saying that Im not that amused... Dying on the inside... My ribs bruised... She joins the snickering... Till the anger is soothed... Then back to her canvasing of contemporary clutches... Jeans that fit as secondary skin to the touches... Heels of crocodile... Silk camisole ... Dark skirt that seemed exotic and tiled... Fur collared sweater for profile... She asked if I would turn the volume up so she could cat walk the aisle... Puckered her lips then made them pop... Dipped low to the drop... To each side she stopped... Stood then began her show of how Pretty Girls Rock... Hands to her face as if she was shocked... Whipped hair letting curls bounce... So did her bottom and breast ... Picked flower... Pulled petals... She loves me ... Loves me not... One more petal and to the bed the flower was dropped... Hand on hip to the ceiling the other one shot... Turned away and to the opposing side of room she walked... So I could admire her everything... Gawked... My bedroom eyes following her hips... Each tap of heel to glossy wooden floor... To the standing mirror she explore... Adjusting hair... And I from my position leave... Behind her I proceed... Wrap arms around her... Feeling more blessed... Than anyone ever... Her face with mine caressed... Touched her neck... To cheeks a peck... Inhaled her scent... Magnificent... My moment complete... Glancing at bed at tossed pillows and twisted silk sheets ... Asking myself ...Do I tell her... I love to smell her... And does that make me her freak...