It would please me ...

Awhile back, I wrote a phrase in the little book I keep next to my chair. In the last week or so, I took that phrase and wrote a few paragraphs to add to it. And then set it aside. Because I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with it.

Apparently, today - my mind fed up with the fact that I had three days to write and didn't - decided what to do with it.

I don't write from this angle very often. I'm not sure why. It's not something I shy away from in my life, unless it becomes a habit of "more often than not" and then it doesn't do it for me. But as an occasional thing - as something fun or different - part time - I do enjoy it.

So today, I wrote it.

An excerpt:
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I teased his entire body like that. Tongue, lips, teeth, nails. All the way to his ankles. I carefully avoided his feet, knowing they were ticklish and not wanting to disrupt the sensual mood of the evening with unbridled laughter and angst. I left a bite mark on the inside of his thigh, just an inch below his balls. His body reacted fitfully to me; straining between pushing toward me, and trying to get away from the intensity of my touch. Small cries and moans escaped his lips with each new area of skin I touched, and by the time I’d worked my way back up his leg and left the bite mark, I was sure he was in violent need.
But not yet. I was not nearly done yet.
“How are you?” I asked
“I am fine, M’Lady.” He said, tightly.
“You want something.”
“Yes.”
“What is it you want?”
“I want you to touch my cock, M’Lady. Please.”
I smiled, and leaned up to slip the blindfold off his eyes. “Really?” I knelt up, putting my hands up under my hair and stretching a little. I watched his eyes as they covered every visible inch of me. Stretching my arms high above my head, I made sure that when his eyes landed at the bottom of the merry widow again, he would see my cunt; open, wet, hungry. He saw. He moaned. I let my arms down, and ran my hands down over my chest, to cup my breasts through the lingerie. “Maybe I’m not quite ready to do that.” I said thoughtfully. “Maybe I need something else, first.”
“Anything you ask.”
I reached into the top of the corset and pulled my heavy breasts out, cupping them. I leaned forward and guided one nipple to his lips, teasing him with it. His tongue snaked from between his lips and licked the tip of my breast lightly. I lowered it, and he sucked tenderly on it. I let him, for a moment, and then pulled back a little, just out of his reach.
“You know what pleases me.”
He looked quizzically at me.
“I should not have to tell you what to do to please me.”
“It’s different …”
“Is it?”
“It feels different.”
“It isn’t.” I lowered my nipple toward his mouth again, and this time he attacked it hungrily, sucking on it hard and biting at it.
I purred softly. “What pleases me pleases me. Now is no different from then.”
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Do I feel better, having gotten 8 pages out of me, even though it's not what I intended to write this weekend? Yes.

And it's early. Maybe I'll do some more ....