Category: Crimson Writ

For those who have not noticed the countdown on the sidebar to the right…I am heading to Vegas on Sunday. After a week there, I’ll be spending a few days at the beach. Here is something to think about while I am gone.

Temptation.

How do you define temptation? Is it in how your pulse quickens after reading the words below? Is it found in feeling something tighten inside that you had half-forgotten was there? Some part that exists just to need?

Does it scare you – just a bit? Even as you respond, even as you reply, the act of reaching out for something that tempts you, something right at the edge, can cut deep enough to leave a mark.

And you do respond. Without understanding or knowledge, you feel yourself pulled in, taken by the promise held in what you see. Each word you read is an admission for a hunger that grows increasingly dangerous.

Do you ever think of having your hands pinned over your head, the force of a body holding you still for a moment, forcing you to just be, to just exist in the warmth of lips on your neck, teeth biting skin, tasting you from the inside out, driving you to let go and grab onto that feeling harder then you ever have in your life, to ride it the waves of heat as they wash over you.

I do.

And temptation goes something like this.

***

1-1-1

Helen says, “i have my pajamas on :)”

D’jaevle says, “What do they look like?”

Helen says, “soft flannel pajama bottoms and a white strappy tank top”

D’jaevle says, “Underneath?”

Helen says, “nothing ;)”

D’jaevle moves up behind you, his hands warm against you through the thin fabric of your tank top. You can feel his fingers slip down along your waist, barely touching.

Helen slowly turns her head to look at you from the corner of her eye. She smiles and whispers, “Glad you woke up…”

D’jaevle runs his hands just under your tank top, fingers curling as they slip up over your stomach, against bare skin.”

Helen closes her eyes and traces her tongue along her bottom lip.

D’jaevle brushes the edge of your breasts, just underneath, his voice soft near your ear, “Miss my touch? My teeth against your ear, my fingers teasing your nipples?”

Helen nods gently, her eyes still closed. “I thought of you all weekend and could hardly control my desire.”

D’jaevle runs a slow trace down your cheek with his spare hand, fingers spreading under your neck, tilting it back as his teeth brush your vulnerable throat.

Helen moans softly and arches her back, reaching behind herself to dig her fingernails into your thighs.

D’jaevle presses his knee up, parting your legs from behind, his thigh rubbing up against you. The hand pressing along your breasts slip closer, running lightly over each nipple, then circling…

Helen reaches up and covers your hand with hers, slowly guiding it across her hardening nipples.

D’jaevle tightens his fingers, pulling hard against each nipple, feeling the nub slide against his palm. “Feel the need?”

Helen looks back at you again and nods. “What would you like to do to me?”

D’jaevle smiles, “I would love to make you beg. Beg to feel my touch. Beg to hear my voice. Beg to cum.”

Helen says, “I don’t have much time left, you’ll have to be very convincing…or make me so hot tonight I am still begging to cum tomorrow.”

D’jaevle chuckles quietly, his fingers sliding down swiftly, under your pajama bottoms and along your slick inner lips, capturing you as he turns to face you. Fingers press just slightly in, letting you have a taste.

Helen shivers and moves her mouth against yours, parting your lips with her tongue and kissing you deeply.

D’jaevle holds you against the wall, his eyes on yours, fingers tightening as two slip a bit deeper inside, then out, trailing against your thigh as he simply teases. His fingernails bite into the skin as his lips meet yours, slowly, taking his time to taste. He speaks softly as his fingers move against your thigh, tantalizing slow as it slips along the silky inner thigh, “I could make you scream.”

Helen tenses her body as she feels your touch, she reaches up to pinch her nipples as you stroke her.

D’jaevle keeps you pinned against the wall, his fingers moving along the outer thigh, and around, against your bare ass, drawing you hard against his knee as it rubs along your thighs. His teeth graze your neck as he slips lower. Slowly he applies more pressure, letting you feel his knee slip up against you, “More?”

Helen breathes heavily into your ear, moans louder this time, and whispers, “Spank me.”

D’jaevle runs a finger slowly along the crack of your ass, letting it linger the small of your back, “Say please.”

Helen looks desperately into your eyes and says softly, “Please…”

D’jaevle grips your arms, hands coming up as he turns you, pressing you hard against the bed, bent over, his fingers curling as it draws your bottoms to your ankles roughly.

Helen says again, almost whimpering. “Please…”

D’jaevle runs his hands over your bare cheeks slowly, savoring the taste of flesh as you feel yourself bared, bent over, vulnerable. He brings his hand back, and you can feel the tension just before the slap as it meets your flesh, burning, a red imprint on your ass.

Helen moans loudly as she catches her breath, tightly closing her eyes. “Again. Please.”

D’jaevle leans over, his fingers dancing on the small of your back, “What will you do for it?”

Helen slips her index finger down to her slit, slowly tracing it through the moist patch of trimmed hair. “Anything.”

D’jaevle brings his hand down again, the *slap* of his hand meeting your ass loud even in your ears, your skin shivering as you feel it burn. He runs a finger over the burning skin, “Anything?”

Helen says, “Anything. Punish me.”

D’jaevle runs a hand down to the apex of your thighs, almost tickling the skin before you feel the harsh bite his hand again, then again, and again, leaving your skin sensitive and red, “You have to be bad to be punished…” He slips his fingers over the red splotches on each cheek, “Anything? Tell me your phone number.”

Helen says, “Rob should be home any second, I can’t be caught. He wouldn’t understand.”

D’jaevle says, “I didn’t say I’d call. Just asked for your number.”

Helen says, “(home phone number)”

D’jaevle brings his hand down hard, letting the sting hit you, like plucking a tight string between your inner lips and ass. He says, “You want me call you, so badly, don’t you? You need it, to be taken, used.”

Helen almost screams, feelings the waves of pain and pleasure consume her individually. “I want to be used for your pleasure.”

D’jaevle runs his tongue along the edge of your ear from behind, your head pressed into the bed as his hand comes down hard, your skin becoming almost unbearably hot as he stripes it with red handprints.

Helen cries out as you slap her. “Promise me you’ll call tomorrow. Please. I can’t believe how hot you make me.”

D’jaevle brings his hand down hard again, at the apex of your thighs, and you feel it, the sting just at the edge of your pussy, “Maybe.” He leans over, his breath tickling your neck, “I can. I can feel it. I would have made you cum hard on the phone tonight. Would have had you thighs spread, begging for more.”

Helen says, “I want to hear your voice telling me when to orgasm, I want you to hear my moans and screams for you.”

Helen says, “Rob is home.”

D’jaevle smiles…I want you to remember tonight, and tomorrow, how wet I made you. How badly you need it.”

Helen says, “I don’t think I could forget.”

How many times before it grows old? How long before the idea loses its edge? How much before the cup overflows?

I don’t know. I haven’t reached that point yet.

***

12-06-99

D’jaevle chuckles quietly, “Ah, surely you will allow me to enjoy your company?”

Nel laughs. “Well, alright. Shall I join you?”

D’jaevle says, “You may, although I spoke figuratively. You might want to be wary in my presence.”

Nel laughs. “What do you mean?”

D’jaevle says, “As you are in my debt, I could take advantage of you. But I *am* a gentlemen. Mostly.”

Nel says, “Maybe I like being taken advantage of.”

D’jaevle says, “Oh really?”

Nel smiles serenely.

D’jaevle looks you over slowly, letting his eyes drag across your skin.

Nel says, “Not much skin to see — I’m in black jeans, black tank top, purple shirt over it unbuttoned. No shoes.”

D’jaevle laughs. “You make me feel so underdressed…I am a bit more casual, being on vacation.”

Nel smiles a bit and stands quite still, curious.

D’jaevle rests his hand on your shoulder, brushing hair aside, baring your throat, “I had so wanted you to think of our last encounter, of such a meeting in a restaurant, being taken so.”

Nel says, “Sorry. I’m not alone, and I’m on a laptop, which means my screen’s easy to read. I’ve just turned around, though, so… “ Nel smiles just a little bit more. “Maybe you need to remind me.”

D’jaevle presses closer, warm breath tickling your neck, “Meeting at a restaurant, for lunch for the first time. Half way through the lunch, after nervous chat and a bit of flirting, I’d follow you into the bathroom unexpectedly…is it coming back? I believe I was to come up behind you, surprising you in the bathroom by pressing against your back, hands on the front as I pin you to the counter.” D’jaevle presses you forward, hands on your waist, “Like this. Except in the bathroom. After having just met me an hour before, you’d feel my hands on your naked thighs after undoing your jeans.”

Nel sighs and imagines it. Strange to think of it with someone in the room with me…are you behind me, or in front of me?

D’jaevle says, “Behind you.”

Nel groans a little and is definitely getting turned on.

D’jaevle smiles, “Are you in your bedroom?”

Nel shakes her head. “I’m in the TV room. Which is why I’m not alone. SOMEONE was going to bed, but saw Grosse Point Blank on TV, and sat down to watch it. Grrr. I –was – alone.”

D’jaevle says, “….at the bathroom, with hands against cool flesh, dragging your jeans down your hips, letting them pool at your ankles. Fingers now slip under your panties, pressing inward, an inch and a time, leaving you exposed.”

Nel sighs, thinking about it. She takes a deep breath. Mmmmmm. Gods.

D’jaevle says, “Feel yourself getting wet don’t you?”

Nel nods solemnly. “Yes. I want it.”

D’jaevle says, “Half naked there in the bathroom…barely known fingers slipping inside from behind, pushing in against you as your kept against the counter.”

Nel imagines leaning forward completely, laying herself against the counter, letting you have her, letting you spread her thighs…

D’jaevle speaks softly, “You want it bad. To be taken like that, just that once, this one meeting, to let go. Fingers moving deeper as you hear the rustle of my own jeans being undone.

Nel sighs and is about to be left alone out here…could take off her jeans, if you wanted her to…

D’jaevle says, “Not yet. How does it make you feel to be getting so wet, so hungry, while not alone?”

Nel says, “Strange…we have a very open relationship…I mean, hell, last night he watched me making out with someone else. But there’s fantasies I have that he doesn’t know about, and this is a big one, the idea of being fucked by a stranger….being taken from behind, being stripped down and taken…and the more I talk about it the worse I want it…”

D’jaevle says, “Take off your jeans. Now think of the feel of a hard cock against the back of your thighs, your skin pressed into the cold counter.”

Nel’s jeans are off. She’s now wearing black cotton underwear, a black lace bra, a black cotton tank top, and an unbuttoned purple shirt.

D’jaevle says, ” I can just see you bent over the counter, hands having dragged your panties to your knees, thighs spread as I look down over your bare ass… letting you feel the press of my hardness along the crack of your ass, quickly done, knowing the door may open any moment as we stand there half dressed…”

Nel smiles a little bit. “You want to hear it in my voice, don’t you? You want to hear the helpless desire? You want to describe to me sliding your fingers in and out of me…mmmmmn. Would you like me to do RL as you’ve described, remove my underwear?”

D’jaevle says, “God, yes. Slip them off and sit there, legs spread, laptop on bare skin. And you’d love to hear me putting you there, not knowing me *too* well, just someone making you wet, knowing how to drive you over. Describing to you how hard I am.”

Nel says, “I’ve taken my underwear off. I’m sitting bare on the couch, my laptop on my thighs, and I’m already wet. I haven’t touched myself, but I can feel it; I’m aroused, thinking about this, thinking about being bent over and spread wide…thinking about you touching me, sliding your fingers into me until it hurts, until I can’t take anymore…”

D’jaevle says, “Thinking too of hearing you, of hearing your fingers sliding in and out and driving you on, letting my voice, a stranger’s, take you to the edge.”

Nel shivers. “A stranger’s voice. And how would you like it? To hear a stranger on the other end, helpless with lust? But I imagine you’ve done that a lot. I imagine you’ve heard many women on the phone, begging you to fuck them.”

D’jaevle says, “Yes, I have. Not in a while…but I used to. Almost every night, a different female. I loved driving them over, making them cum hard for me.”

Nel sighs, thinking of it. “And did you enjoy it? The power of it?”

D’jaevle says, “Oh yes. I still do, every once a while. But the new person, the new way they moaned, the way they would beg. Some quiet, some screaming, some reluctant, some hungry…. You want it so bad, don’t you? You can almost taste it.”

Nel shivers. “Yes. I want it. I’m wet, I’m shivery…I want it, but I…gods. It’s never as good myself. I…I like penetration, I like to be entered, and I -want- it…tell me. Why do you like phone interaction so much? Just to hear the voice?”

D’jaevle says, “To hear the *person*. To know I’m really fucking them, if only with my voice and hunger. To really hear them cum. Without the pauses here, just doing it, hard, fast, needing.” He smiles, “And I need to fuck, to slide my cock inside as well. To feel it deep inside, burning as it takes you. There, in the bathroom, taking you hard as your forced to look in the mirror to see me fucking you from behind.”

Nel sighs, thinking of it. “Gods. Yes. I want it so badly. To feel a stranger inside me, taking me, using my body — tell me what you’d do, tell me…if you could do -anything-, if you could know that I wouldn’t refuse you anything, what would you do? Anywhere, anything, what would you do?”

D’jaevle says, “Now? First I’d have you get off this and call me, to let you be safe in contacting me. Then I’d fuck you. I’d make you cum all over your couch, just to warm us up, to make you want it so bad that when I suggest that we meet for a snack at Denny’s, you say yes.”

Nel mmmns, thinking about it. “You’d have me come once and then tell me to meet you…because once is never enough, and I’d want more, you’d know I wanted more…”

D’jaevle says, “And then, after getting there, I’d get us coffee…and then walk you to your car, just ten minutes inside, because you know it – you are already wet. And there, in the night air, I’d take you against your car, bent over the back.”

Nel mmmns. “Me in a skirt, so you could raise it over my ass, spread my thighs and fuck me in the parking lot…”

D’jaevle says, “Take you so completely, fucking you against the cold car, just getting you to the edge, but not letting either of us over. Then, in the parking lot still, I’d press you to your knees. You’d be dressed nice, but casually, and your skirt would bunch as it knelt, taking me in you mouth. Fingers buried in your hair, fucking your mouth nice and slow as you were forced to your knees there in public. ”

Nel breathes deeply. “I love it…you’d fuck my face, hold my head so I had no control over it, so it was your cock in my throat, so the gag reflex spasmed around you and you didn’t stop, you held my head against you as I fought, just a little bit, having problems taking it all the way, but you’d make me take it…”

D’jaevle nods, breathing deeply, eyes on yours, “Just fucking you, taking my time, so wet you can feel it against your thigh. It starts to rain lightly, us there as we get wet, making you continue as I fuck faster, deeper. You want it so bad, you’d do almost anything to feel that.”

Nel says, “I’d gag so hard the tears would run down my face, just from the spasm of it, but I wouldn’t stop…I’d -want- to feel you in my throat, I’d want to stroke you with my tongue, be suffocated against your skin, I’d want to choke on you and still take more…”

D’jaevle says, “Fucking harder, taking deeper strokes as you see the calm in my eyes, behind the heavy breathing as I came closer and closer to filling you, my balls brushing your chin, as the pace moved up. Fingers tighter as I pulled you in.”

Nel would want it harder, even deeper, would want to take you as far as she could…it would hurt and I wouldn’t care, I’d just want it, I’d want you to come in my throat, I’d want to feel your cock throbbing against my tongue…yes…

D’jaevle speaks softly, “Just how badly do you want it?”

Nel says, “I need it. Gods. I need it so badly I’m almost willing to call. Almost. Not quite. But gods I’m wet, I feel it dripping down…it’s embarrassing, but I got a towel, I’m sitting on a towel because I don’t want to stain the couch…”

D’jaevle says, “You want me to make you take it, take it all, use you. To make you, using your body against you to make you do it, don’t you?”

Nel says, “Yes. Yes, I want it. I want to be taken, possessed. I want it all. I want you in my mouth, my cunt. I want it.”

D’jaevle says, “And you want me to make you do it, don’t you? Say it.”

Nel says, “Yes. I do. I want it. I want you. I want it. I want you to tell me what you’d do to me. If I were willing for -anything-. If I’d do anything. If you didn’t have to ask. If you could just take.”

D’jaevle says, “Is that what you want? For me to take it? I’ll make you do it. Take you. Hard.”

Nel says, “Take me. Please. Don’t ask. Just do it.”

D’jaevle says, “Write this down, xxx-xxxx (cell phone number). Just write it down. Now. I could have you on the floor, on all fours, ass in the air, begging to be fucked, to be taken like an animal. I would. I would use you, hand son your ass, driving you forward.”

Nel says, “I’ve done it. I’ll call you. Now, if you want.

D’jaevle says, “Call now.”

Nel says, “Yes. I’ll go upstairs. I’ll go now.”

Hands, silk, rope, leather – restraints have a very specific purpose. A concrete shift in control. The removal of choice, mental and physical.

There are several people I know who let themselves be tied down by people they wouldn’t trust with their car keys. Why does this idea, this concept of helplessness, have such an appeal? The one answer that I enjoy taking advantage of the most is quite simple: plausible deniability – they can always tell themselves later that they no choice but to enjoy the way he managed to get three fingers inside.

And the appeal for those who are doing the restraining? A captive audience. A blank canvas on which they can write their desires.

***

07-15-03

D’jaevle considers you silently for a moment, his eyes flickering across the lines of your body, as if imagining you in various positions, bound.”

Emerald arches a curious brow as she watches you, wondering what is going on in that mind of yours.

D’jaevle smiles, an expression that appears for just a moment on his lips. He approaches, taking his time, although its clear that he intends to do *something*.”

Emerald tries to stay nonchalant, but her courage wanes as you get closer to her, one foot stepping back hesitantly as you get in arms reach of you, no fear showing, but caution perhaps.

D’jaevle continues forward, hands at his sides comfortably. His eyes look over your shoulder, “There’s only so far you can step back.”

Emerald feels a flush filling her cheeks as her next step back only manages to confirm your words, her back coming flush against an unforgiving tree, halting her retreat.

D’jaevle hides whatever triumphant reaction he might be having, choosing instead to take the moment of uncertainty to reach down and grasp your wrists, his hands gripping them firmly. He appears content – for the moment – to simply hold them at your side, forcing you to deal with the intimate presences of his body so close to yours.

Emerald swallows hard as she feels your grip on her wrists, her mind screaming to resist you, but her body doesn’t listen, it simply stays pinned between you and the tree, following it’s own desires as you feel the tension in her arms lessening as she relaxes them.

D’jaevle doesn’t relax his grip any, but drawing your arms behind you, he holds them between your lower back and the tree. He’s now close enough that his breathing tickles the side of your neck. Using the tree and his left hand to keep you pinned, he uses his free hand to slide around to the front, drawing your shirt up just an inch or two, testing the fabric strength.

Emerald feels her heart beginning to pound in her chest, your nearness wreaking havoc on her body, yet she can’t seem to stop herself, or you. Her cheeks flush with color as you raise her shirt up, baring her midriff, the fabric tight to her body, perhaps clinging would be a better word as it leaves nothing to the imagination

D’jaevle leans over, his face brushing your breasts through your shirt as he does so – lifting the edge of the shirt he bites, using his hand for leverage, he yanks upwards, ripping a swath of fabric about fourteen inches in length, along the edge of the shirt – leaving your midriff bare and cloth in his free hand.

Emerald’s breath catches , jumping as she feels the fabric rip, reflex forcing her wrists to try and fight you i a vain effort to cover herself, but i her struggles, you sense no real panic.

D’jaevle replaces his free hand along your back, where he is holding your wrists against the tree. With both hands braced against you, he stills most of your struggles and wraps the cloth around both wrists before drawing it down and between the wrists. A sharp snap tightens the bond.

Emerald offers little resistance as you wrap the fabric around her wrists, tho she does wince as she feels it cinch tightly between, ensuring her hands will stay behind her now whether she likes it or not.

D’jaevle moves his hands to your waist, fingers brushing bare skin, the shirt being several inches shorter. Leaning down – again, he bites the ragged edge of your shirt and draws it up, over skin, over breasts, until its bunched over them. Leaning back, his eyes lower, and you can feel them on your breasts, tracing their curves.

Emerald rolls her shoulders with a bit of a grunt as you reveal her breasts, cupped in her silken seamless bra, her traitorous nipples already budding and quite visible under the thin fabric, responding to the teasing touches.

D’jaevle steps back just a step or two, still surveying you. He turns, going to a nearby tree and backpack. Opening it, he takes out two coiled ropes, small and simple, but efficient. He turns back to you and steps close again, slowly lowering himself – his breath leaving a trail down your bare stomache.

Emerald watches as you retreat, her legs tensing to retreat, but her curiosity halts her, , having her follow you a step forward to see what you are doing, before you turn back, immediately stepping back, grunting as she her hands make contact with the tree, her window gone. She squirms a bit as you tease her now bared stomach, legs fidgeting.

D’jaevle takes one of the rope and wraps it around your left ankle – twice, once coiled atop the other. He stands, walking around the tree, coming to face you again. His eyes on yours, he lowers himself yet again, settling a small moist kiss against your bare stomach as he loops the other end of the rope around the right ankle, drawing it tight and forcing both legs back against the tree.

Emerald can only stand there and watch, her body refusing to respond to reason, allowing you to bind her to the tree, ensuring that she won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. She feels the bark of the tree rubbing against her bare calves, giving a small tug to her one ankle confirms she is going nowhere unless the tree goes with her, a highly unlikely scenario given the thickness of it’s trunk.

D’jaevle stands, unphased by your testing of the restraint. If anything, his gaze encourages you to test – to push – to struggle and find the limits of the simple, but effective, bonds. With you relatively held in place, he turns his attention to tour breasts – drawing fingers down across the silken bras, finding the hardening nipples through the fabric.

Emerald offers a soft whimper as she catches your gaze, growing uncomfortably with the heat it seems to create inside of her. She wrestles with her bound hands, stilling only once your fingers find her hardened nipples perking out thru her bra, her gaze shifting down and off to the side.

D’jaevle’s fingers become slightly rougher, as if your struggles are drawing his own tension to the surface. Fingers rake down across the fabric again, but is not content to do so through the fabric – he reaches up and hooks fingers along the top of the bra, dragging it down, knowing the size of your breasts will make it hard to drag without help. A hand to his side draws a sharp knife. Before you mark its presence, he adds two slices to your bra, one for each breast, giving him the room he needs to drag it.

Emerald blinks in disbelief as you slice her bra, the cool air on her breasts draws her gaze upwards, whimpering to no one in particular as she starts to look around, seeing no one but yourself around her, she still floods with color at her cheeks from the exposure

D’jaevle pauses, savoring the sight of your breasts for a moment, apparently unconcerned about the possibility of others seeing you; unconcerned, or enticing. But he doesn’t remain frozen – he takes advantage of your naked skin to lower his lips to the edge of your breasts, lips parted to trace a moist trail down your right breast, to the nipple – not quite touching it, content to circle slowly.

Emerald dips her head back against the tree, a moan rolling free from her parted lips at your teasings. her nipples harden even further, almost painful so with their need, only adding more fuel to the growing fire within her. Her hips shift, the knee length skirt covering them not seeming to be enough anymore.

D’jaevle appears content to remain where he is for the moment. His mouth leaving burning kisses against your breasts, dancing along the edges, circling each nipples, not quite touching, but encouraging your body to respond. Finally, his hands on your waist drawing you forward against his knee, his teeth close on one nipple, not so much biting as dragging the edge along the hard edges of your right nipple.

Emerald groans as you press your knee against her, flushing as her hips grind back against you, making her eyes close tight with the flush of color in her cheeks. her fingers work against each other behind her, fidgeting at your continued teasings, awakening her body in ways she had forgotten previously.

D’jaevle draws the nipple deeper into his mouth, lips closing around it as he sucks slowly, rolling the hard tip against his tongue. Hands slide along the small of your back, against bare skin, tips drawing the edge of your skirt up, an inch…two, knee pressing up between your thighs, giving you something to drive against.

Emerald leans her upper body back against the tree, a deep shiver teasing down her spine from your dual teasings. She doesn’t even seem to notice her skirt rising, her legs even offering to help as they shift a bit further apart, lowering herself a bit onto your offered knee, feeling the delicious pressure, wanting to feel more.

D’jaevle draws back, taking your nipple with him, pulling it taut before he releases it. Fingers slide lower, giving him a better grip to drag the skirt up further, and it doesn’t take long before your bare thighs are pressed against the hard pressure of his knee driving up sharply against you.

Emerald’s breath catches as her nipple snaps back, her head dipping forward, eyes a bit hazed as she looks towards you, meeting your face for only a moment before the pressure from your knee makes her forget everything else but the fire within her loins. As your knee meets her panties, it is quite obvious that she is aroused, her panties soaked thru with it.

D’jaevle lowers his knee, slowly, leaving your thighs empty. But only for a moment – with the skirt bunched around your waist, his hands are free and he reaches up, a hand on either side of your face. With you slightly dazed, he leans in, lips close enough to meet yours, to kiss, to taste…but they merely part and draw your lower lip into his mouth, biting, knee returning to your crotch, rubbing the length against you.

Emerald whimpers a soft protest at the kiss, her lashes fluttering a bit at your kiss, but lose the battle, her eyes remaining closed, tho her lips part a bit further at teh return of your knee, groaning as you see her struggle once more in her bonds, growing restless with her arousal.

D’jaevle tastes you just long enough to bite once more, before letting his hands fall to your waist. You can feel fingers drag down your bare stomach to the edge of your panties – and then curl, dragging it down slightly. Its clear he knows the effect its having on you.

Emerald whimpers at the slowness you take with her, not sure how you can go so slow, when she is so hot right now. Her feet shuffle restlessly on the ground as you start to peel off her panties, the fabric burning into her the longer it’s on her. Youw atch a flood of color tinge her cheeks as she averts her face, her mind slipping in to chastise her, before you see her turning forward again, the struggle evident in her dazed eyes as she looks towards you.

D’jaevle does seem to enjoy watching, feeling, tasting your growing need. But as deliberate and slow as he may be moving – it is in definition of an act. And as the panties are drawn down your thighs, as they come to rest, like your bra, just below what they are meant to hide – fingers plunge inside, three of them driving into you, all the way.

Emerald suddenly has no care as to who might be able to see her on her current state, your fingers plunging into the source of her heat and restlessness nearly undoing her, making her moan loud enough to echo in her own ears, her sex wet and ready, greedily taking the offered fingers.

D’jaevle slowly slips the finger from inside you – slow enough for you to feel each knuckle inside. And then they drive in again. His fingers move in, drawing each shudder from you, his eyes on your breathing, your moans, your hunger.