Mr. President 1(79)
Arsen takes another step back and loosens his tie, opening the top button of his shirt as his eyes wander all over my body. I feel him devouring every single inch of naked skin in me, and I know he’s aching for more.
“Turn around,” he tells me, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. The moment his words caress my eardrums, I’m turning on my heels, my back to him as my heart thumps louder against my chest. “Your dress, take it off. Slowly.”
I take one deep breath, moving my hands to my shoulders and pushing the straps of my dress down my arms. I feel the fabric drooping over my breasts, and I pull on it until my dress is hanging around my waist. Hooking my fingers on it, I sway my hips from side to side, slowly letting the fabric fall down my legs into a heap at my feet.
His shoes click across the floor as he takes one step toward me; I fight against all of my urges and remain in place, every fiber in my body screaming for me to turn around and face him. I feel his fingertips over the dimples in my lower back, and then he runs them all the way up to my shoulder blades; he moves his fingers across the edge of my bra, stopping only to undo the clasp there. He does it with one single movement, the cups drooping over my breasts.
I half-expect him to pull the straps down my shoulders, but instead he takes one step back. “Take it off,” he commands me, my arms moving by themselves in response. I push the straps down my arms, and then I let the bra fall down to the floor, right on top of my dress. My nipples are hard, almost desperate to feel his fingers, mouth, and skin on them.
For a long second, he says nothing. I close my eyes as I feel him appreciating my body, the air around both of us becoming heavier and charged with electricity. I can almost feel the desperate need he has to see me taking my thong off, and still he waits, letting the fire of anticipation rage in both of our bodies.
“You look so fucking perfect,” he says, moving fast toward me and pressing his body against mine. My hands go to the wall and I unconsciously jut my ass back at him, my rear pressed tight against his crotch. I sigh deeply as I feel his thick shape straining against his pants, pulsing with desire and lust. He laces my waist, pressing his forearm over my stomach as he pulls me into him, bucking his hips at me at the same time. He’s thick and long, probably the biggest I have ever felt… And let me tell you, when you work in a strip club you get to feel a lot of cocks.
I sway my hips from side to side, the bulging in his pants pushing against my ass cheeks as I move. Arsen runs his free hand up and down my side, his long fingers only stopping when they meet the small string of fabric that delineates my thigh—he hooks them there, on my thong, and pulls viciously. Just one pull and he tears my thong apart, the fabric sliding off my body in such a hurried way that I can’t help but gasp.#p#分页标题#e#
His lips are on my neck as I grind my ass against his cock, everything in me burning with a frantic desire to get him out of his clothes. I reach behind my back, wanting to place my hand over his crotch, but once again he grabs my wrist, pinning my whole arm behind my back.
“You want it that much?” He asks me while I try and fight back against the hold he has on me. It’s impossible: he’s simply too strong.
“I do,” I respond, leaning forward and pressing my forehead against the wall, as my breathing grows heavier. The moment the words leave my lips, he lets go of me. He takes two steps back, the absence of his body on mine almost too painful to endure. Reacting on instinct, I turn on my heels, my feet making me follow after him.
“Stop,” he says firmly, and I stop dead in my tracks. We’re just a few inches away, and that is almost enough to drive me insane—to know that I could just reach for his shirt and start peeling it off of him … “On your knees,” he continues, my body once again responding without his commands having to be filtered by my brain. I don’t know what it is about him, but the moment he speaks, I do it. As soon as my knees touch the floor, my heart is pounding hard again, my eyes glued to the thick shape straining against his pants. “How bad do you want it?”
“I want it bad,” I say, my voice quivering as he starts to unbuckle his belt. I can’t even blink, my eyes glued to what’s happening in front of me. With slow teasing movements he takes the belt out from his pants and throws it on the floor; his fingers then go back to his crotch, unbuttoning it with deliberate and maddening patience. Each buttons he undoes, my heart kicks and punches harder against my ribcage … And with each button he pops out, his cock strains harder against his boxer briefs.