Category: PWP

Disclaimer: These folks don't belong to me. I stole them from MGM's toybox without asking their mommies for permission. I promise to return them more or less unscathed.

Archive: Yes, just let me know where it'll be.

Summary: Janet tells Sam what she likes.

Darling Samantha...

You want to know what I like? What turns me on? You want to know my fetish?

My fetish is watching you undress. My favorite is that black blouse you have... the scoop-necked one with the little 'V' pointing towards your breasts. I love to watch you slide your blue jeans down your incredibly long legs, baring them to me... just for me. I love when you pull your t-shirt or blouse or sweater over your head, when your arms are stretched over your head and you look like nothing more than a Renaissance masterpiece. Perfect. I could never stop looking at you.

My fetish is watching you shower... oh, when you soap up your beautiful, beautiful breasts. When the water cascades over your golden brown hair, down your back, over the crack in your ass... you're a goddess in a waterfall, my goddess. My deity. You let me towel you off when I ask and I relish the opportunity, my lovely. Stroking your body with the terrycloth, worshipping your form. Once in a while I kiss the water droplets from your belly and you giggle. I worship you.

You spread your legs and drop onto the closed lid of the toilet, 'preparing yourself.' I love to watch you masturbate, love watching you carry yourself to heights I can only fantasize about. But not tonight. I kiss your lips and pull your hand away. No flying solo tonight, fly-girl. You understand my needs, my desires immediately... I love you for this and a trillion other reasons. You go into the bedroom wearing only panties and I follow, your faithful companion. You tug down our covers, toss all but two pillows onto the floor. You embrace me next to the bed and softly lower us both onto the mattress. We're already kissing...

My fetish is feet. *Your* feet... beautiful feet. You lay back and I sit on my knees, cradling your foot in my hands against my tummy. I pick up the bowl I brought from the kitchen and dip your toes in the honey that's pooled there. You giggle again and I realize another fetish; your giggle. I look at your lips as you laugh and I shiver. Your lips part, glistening and gleaming in the pale light. Your tongue presses between your teeth. Your throat convulses. How I can watch you laugh without collapsing in a hormonal heap is a mystery to me.

I lift your foot to my mouth and suck your big toe into my mouth, sucking the honey from it. The honey has dripped, down your foot, over your arch and around your finely-boned ankle. I follow the trail down your leg, kissing the butter-soft skin of your thigh. I feel your heartbeat pulsing in your leg and I nip at it. I love giving you hickeys in peculiar places... your ass, your upper thigh, under your breast... and knowing you'll have to wear it under your uniform and I - only *I* - will know it even exists. I give your thigh another languid lick before returning to your foot. I worship your feet as much as I worship the rest of your body. I have bathed your feet in the past and you know how hot it makes me. I was embarrassed to let you know how much I like it at first... afraid of what you would think. But you simply untied your sneaker and put your foot in my lap. We've never missed the opportunity for a foot massage, my love, and that makes me love you all the more.

And you... you've told me *your* fetish. You love to be in charge. You tie me up, you blindfold me and tease me with quick, tickling touches to my underarms and sides. You tease me with your breath on my face and I comply as you wish: I extend my tongue and search for you. The sight of my tongue eagerly hunting your taste, the flickering of the tip and the promises of what that flicker can do to your body sends you over the edge and you devour my tongue, sucking it wantonly. That is your fetish.

When you untie me, and it's my game again. Tonight is my night and tomorrow we'll play every one of your games.

I kiss your lips and you taste the honey, holding my chin in your hand until you've taken your fill. You flick your tongue inside my mouth and I moan, collapsing against your body. I kiss down, your body a map I must explore and chart for future generations. But I'm the only explorer on this safari. I will be the only one kissing you here - on your throat - or here - on your shoulder - or here - on your nipple.

This is my fetish: I press my face between your breasts - your full, heavy, beautiful breasts - and pause. I hold myself there, one hand on your breast, the other on your stomach. I hold... and I use all five of my senses to know you completely. I *feel* your warmth. I *hear* your heartbeat. I extend my tongue and *taste* the sweat of your cleavage. I *smell* the wetness drifting from between your legs. Opening my eyes, I peer up and *see* your beautiful blue eyes staring at me. I stroke you with my tongue, then slide down between your legs.

You lift your legs as per my silent command and I hook them over my shoulders, like a harness for a thrill ride. I hold myself a millimeter away from the much-explored yet brand-new terrain of your sex. Tender pink folds that glisten in the dark. A shy bud barely visible at the apex. Fleshy pink lips surrounding you, framed by a forest of sparse blonde hair. I draw a circle around this most sacred of body parts and then carefully separate the folds with my thumbs.

You whimper and I look up. You know what I want here... you know and I press the tip of my tongue against your warm, succulent flesh. "Eat my pussy," you demand. You've stopped blushing when you talk dirty with me... you relish the 'filthy and naughty side of the English language' as you once called it. "Fucking eat me," you hiss. "Isn't my pussy sweet?"

"Mm-hmm," I say, digging my fingers into your thighs. If I leave marks, you won't wear a skirt for days. I lift your ass off the mattress and you moan. Your moaning is another fetish... add it to my list. I never abandon your pussy before you've come. I pride myself on it, the reward being a mouthful of the sweetest nectar I know. A taste so sweet I cannot keep it to myself. I always swallow some, saving the rest and pressing my lips to yours. You love tasting your juices on my mouth. I love watching you eat it. The things you do to me, Samantha...

Your hand finds me and I moan. You slip your fingers into me and I whimper. Your hand in my body... makes me *tremble*, Samantha. I look into your eyes and begin to slowly lift myself. I drop onto your fingers, then repeat the move. It's a slow, familiar rhythm that I know all too well. I come on your hand quickly and we share my treasure. Your tongue flickers over your hand and then delves into my mouth.

We roll and I'm on my stomach, ass in the air. This is your game. I grab the blankets and grit my teeth, thrusting my ass in your face. I love spanking... the feel of your naked body draped over my legs, the quaking skin of your asscheeks under my palm. Hearing the childlike "oohp!" as you're 'punished'. But you don't spank me... you have a different fetish. You spread my cheeks and circle my pink bud with your tongue, using the cream from my pussy to lubricate before pushing a finger into me. I push back against your finger and you fight with my muscles for dominance.

You kiss the small of my back and pump into me. I'm moaning. You're panting. We're both dripping sweat onto the mattress. Your hair is a mess. Mine is standing on end. Both of us are gasping for breath. I climax again, the juices pouring down my thighs. You drop down and lick me dry, nuzzling my pussy for a taste. I pull you to me and kiss your lips, tasting myself on you. Sweetness. Nectar.

Samantha... You asked me what I desire. What I want. You asked what my fetish is. Sam, dear Samantha, my fetish is you and nothing more.

Come to bed.

END