"Have you decided on the next scene?"
She looked up from her appetizer to see the question in his blue-gray eyes. She reached into her purse and passed him the slip of paper, looking away.
Moments later she looked up at his comment. "This will take a little while." She shivered at how clinical he had become. Exactly as she wanted.
is the most perfect specimen of humanity Dr. Kent has ever seen, and all she can think when she sees him is: what a waste.
She has his specs on the pad in front of her: 6'5, 190 pounds, blonde hair, blue eyes, 28 years old; section: lambda, section of origin: delta. Even that brief outline caused a commotion among the other doctors when it arrived in her inbox yesterday. But numbers on a screen are one thing, and #B34123J's extraordinary physique right here in her exam room is another.
"Fuck", I say to him, "if you had a pencil dick, you'd be sliding in there now, right up to your balls, all nine or ten inches of you."
"Ten," he says in my ear, nuzzling me.
"Ok, ten," I say, my mouth now at his ear. "Whatever," I smirk. 'Ten' I know it is. It's our private joke. We'd measured it how many times.
I couldn't help myself. Reading the emails back and forth always put me into a frenzy, but the latest ones nearly threw me overboard. He had a way with words, you know. The kind that eat at your very center as you squirm away in your chair, feeling the fabric of your panties just growing wetter and wetter...
All he could think about was her ass. She was a beautiful woman, inside and out, and her pussy had provided him more pleasure than most men could only dream about in a lifetime. But he couldn't stop thinking about her asshole, that sweetly puckered opening, so tightly closed, so vulnerable. What was wrong with him?
I have all these wickedly delicious thoughts about what I want to do with you right now. Your mouth just begs me to kiss it, but what I really want is my hands on your naked body. I start at your calves and rub every muscle very slowly until I feel you melt. I love rubbing the backs of your thighs. And you know I can't keep my hands off your ass. I make sure to rub it hard so I don't miss a single muscle. Then I stroke either side of your spine the way you love so much.
He poured the warm oil across her shoulders and it slid down the curve towards the small of her back, drawn to the crease over her spine. Gooseflesh rose out of pure sensual bliss.
That and the thoughts that sliding oil inspired: What if his hands, now warm and large and resting over her shoulder blades, thumbs turned inward, were to continue downward, the thumbs meeting in the center, the hands coming together as her waist narrowed before....