"You're overdressed," she murmured as he nuzzled her foot. The toes were clenching up in delight. He pressed a kiss against the arch.
Picus stripped. Martina drew in her legs, knees together, and watched him. There was a flicker of something as she beheld him. The sight of his nude body always sparked second glances or sharp hisses in the showers. His body raised puffy scars where it healed from scourging, from whipping, from a dog's bite, from a fall on the obstacles, from bullets, from the edge of a machete swung by Ulpius. If the bad-tempered decanus had only reached a hair's breadth closer, Picus would not be here, safe and warm on the bed in the finest Vegas hotel, about to make love to a beautiful casino girl.
He left her stockings on. They had an interesting texture against his skin when he brought her legs up. She watched him with keen anticipation up until the moment his lower lip touched her lips, and the slightest flicker of his tongue sent her head against the headboard.
She said his name. That was his old name. Ron. They said to use his old name so he would respond to it naturally.
She kept saying it, gasping it as he washed her seam with his tongue. Lapped at the little bud she showed him. He learned she liked only slow changes in what he did to her, the speed or pressure, nothing jarring that would chase her off her way to climax. He felt her tense and then relax into it, letting her sink into it like a warm cushion of sensation.
Girl from Ipanema 8/?
Picus stripped. Martina drew in her legs, knees together, and watched him. There was a flicker of something as she beheld him. The sight of his nude body always sparked second glances or sharp hisses in the showers. His body raised puffy scars where it healed from scourging, from whipping, from a dog's bite, from a fall on the obstacles, from bullets, from the edge of a machete swung by Ulpius. If the bad-tempered decanus had only reached a hair's breadth closer, Picus would not be here, safe and warm on the bed in the finest Vegas hotel, about to make love to a beautiful casino girl.
He left her stockings on. They had an interesting texture against his skin when he brought her legs up. She watched him with keen anticipation up until the moment his lower lip touched her lips, and the slightest flicker of his tongue sent her head against the headboard.
She said his name. That was his old name. Ron. They said to use his old name so he would respond to it naturally.
She kept saying it, gasping it as he washed her seam with his tongue. Lapped at the little bud she showed him. He learned she liked only slow changes in what he did to her, the speed or pressure, nothing jarring that would chase her off her way to climax. He felt her tense and then relax into it, letting her sink into it like a warm cushion of sensation.