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"I do not mean ass fucking, my dear one," he said. His hand tightened on her breast. Deirdre tried to step back but could not. She closed her eyes and let the delicious sensation seep into her bones and body and brain. Somewhere in a far distant recess of her being, Deirdre knew this was wrong. Why was she letting this stranger--a burglar--feel her up?
Pleasure overwhelmed any concern she might have. She sighed and thrust her chest out so her breast crushed into the man's palm. He squeezed tighter and gave her even more pleasure.
"I like that," she said in a chocked voice.
"I know," he answered. His other hand worked around her back, slid to her waist and pulled her closer. The bony hand was cool against her bare skin, but it excited her unlike any other lover's caress. Her lips parted slightly. He accepted. His lips pressed into her, lightly brushing across them at first and then sampling with more passion. Deirdre felt her pulse racing as he held her close to his body. She felt every movement of his body--and the slow rise between his legs as his limp penis became a hard cock.
"I want this," she said urgently. She reached down and pressed her hand against the bulge of his erection.
"I know you do, but not yet. Prove you are worthy of receiving it."
"I ... I'm wet. My pussy is wet."
"Yes, it is," he said in a husky whisper, "but that is not enough."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Get naked for me."
Deirdre didn't want to move away from his body. She wanted it to press against her always. But there was nothing she could do. She had to obey. She stepped back. His hand slowly slid across her bare side, his fingertips lightly pressing intoher belly. She reached behind and slipped the hooks free on her bra. The material slid forward over her breasts. A quick shrug got the straps off her arms. She tossed aside the unwanted garment.
Why was she doing this? The man was a stranger! But she wanted him more than she had ever wanted a man before. That he wanted her was obviously from the huge bulge in his tight pants. She reached out to run the zipper down on his fly and let out the raging hard-on imprisoned there.
He caught her wrist.
"Not yet. You are still overdressed." His fingers worked down her hips and caught at the wispy red satin panties she wore. "You don't wear a thong," he said, whispering in her ear.
"A thong ... or nothing at all," he said. His tongue flicked out and touched her earlobe. The wetness cooled quickly. She gasped when he caught the dangling flesh between his teeth and lightly bit. She heard his quick intake of breath. "Blood," he said.
Deirdre went weak in the knees when he began sucking on her earlobe. She knew he had pricked it, but she did not care. The feel of his mouth, his lips, his darting tongue, all sent pulses of divine desire throughout her body. Her pussy had leaked before. Now it positively gushed.