Boxed and Bound in Paris — Aimelie Aames

I moved forward onto the bed, on my hands and knees, knowing full well that my ass was swinging in Ewan's direction. When I turned my head to look over my shoulder, he winked at me and began to unbutton his shirt."That's it, little slave," he said, "Make me want you even more."I reached back and slipped my skirt higher on my thighs, not so far as to entirely uncover my ass, but certainly enough that he could see the peach of my pussy warming up within its white, silk panty. If I could have purred like a kitten, I would have. I might have, anyway, as his eyes crawled up the interior of my thighs. The small muscles there twitched in answer to his gaze and when I next chanced to look back at him, his grin was wide and his body naked. His perfect form, cast in bronze perfection, was before me in all its glory. But, best of all, was his magnificent prick up and at the ready, making an elegant curve that spelled pleasure with a capital P.I turned fully around and undid the buttons of my blouse as Ewan moved onto the bed with me. He laid his corded hands on my thigh and slid them along, pushing up and under my skirt. I could feel the pressure of his fingers as they traced along my skin, the flesh there electric with sensitivity.I realized that I had frozen in mid button, my breath held, waiting for his hand to go further. He did and found that I was dripping wet through my little girl panties. They were white, pristine, almost virginal but that did not stop me from sighing as he touched my lips through them. I widened my legs willingly and arched my back, the remaining buttons of my shirt forgotten. He moved forward and his hand pressed upon my mound, higher up than where I would have liked. He pushed down and my pelvis pushed back at him of its own accord. My clit, already stiff with excitement, slipped forward in its little sheath under his pressure. I rocked against his hand, wishing only that he would stroked down with his hand against the silk and damp. Instead, he pulled