Glass Slippers, Wet Dreams

The suite was an opulent explosion of luxury, a stark contrast to the weary anticipation clinging to us as we stepped inside. It was the most extravagant place we’d ever encountered, boasting a king-sized bed, a stunning glass window and sliding door separating the room from a private infinity pool complete with a bubbling jacuzzi. A shared kiss, a silent acknowledgment of the long journey and the promise of release, hung in the air as we took in the sheer extravagance. My wife, sensing my immediate desire to unwind, excused herself to the lavish bathroom, leaving me to explore the expansive space.

As I circled the perimeter of the pool, a flash of movement caught my eye. My wife re-entered the room, a transformation complete. She’d meticulously straightened her hair, slipped on a pair of impossibly high heels, and donned a dress that barely concealed the curves beneath – a daring choice that ignited a fire in my belly. The dress was a masterpiece of barely-there design, hinting at the delights beneath, yet leaving just enough to tantalize my senses. It was an invitation, blatant and undeniable, to delve deeper into the night’s pleasures.

I moved towards the sliding door, my thoughts already racing ahead, imagining the possibilities that lay beyond. The air crackled with unspoken desire as I approached, the scent of expensive perfume mingling with the salty tang of the pool water. Reaching the door, I paused, savoring the anticipation, before pushing it open just enough to step out onto the deck. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the heat building within me.

My wife stood poised by the door, a silent sentinel guarding the entrance. Her hand rested casually on her hip, a subtle gesture that spoke volumes. This was her signal, her command. Instinctively, I began to explore the area surrounding the pool, my gaze lingering on her form, lost in the exquisite details of her attire. As I did, I noticed a sleek, modern chair placed strategically near the glass panel, a perfect vantage point for both of us. She turned her attention to me, her eyes locking onto mine, radiating an intoxicating mix of challenge and invitation. The unspoken request hung heavy in the air: to shed my clothes, to embrace the heat, and to succumb to her desires.

Without hesitation, I began to disrobe, each movement deliberate and sensual, designed to tease and provoke. The removal of my shirt revealed the taut expanse of my chest, the muscles rippling beneath. The sensation of the cool air against my skin was a sharp contrast to the burning desire that consumed me. As my boxers fell away, my cock, hard and eager, met its fate. The sight of it, exposed and vulnerable, sent a jolt of pleasure through my veins.

My wife watched with an intense focus, her eyes tracing every inch of my body. Her hand, smooth and cool, moved towards her own garments, revealing a garter belt and thigh-high stockings that clung to her legs in a tantalizing display. The sight was both shocking and exhilarating, a testament to her confidence and her willingness to push boundaries. I noticed the chair positioned perfectly, her legs poised to support her as she took control of the situation. The tension in the room was palpable, a delicious blend of anticipation and restraint.

As my arousal intensified, I felt a surge of frustration at the physical barrier separating us. The glass, beautiful as it was, stood between us and the ultimate fulfillment of my desires. The scent of her perfume, now closer, filled my senses, a heady mix of jasmine and vanilla. I imagined her hand reaching out, her touch igniting a wildfire within me. The anticipation was unbearable, pushing me to the brink of ecstasy.

Suddenly, she moved, her hand gliding down her body, tracing the curve of her hips, and then, slowly, descending towards her clitoris. Her movements were deliberate, calculated, designed to maximize pleasure. As she began to stimulate her pleasure center, I felt a primal instinct take over, a desperate need to be closer, to feel her touch, to lose myself in her intoxicating presence. The world narrowed, focusing solely on the intoxicating sensations she was sending my way.

She then moved the chair closer, propping her legs against the glass, creating an intimate barrier between us. She adjusted her position, finding a comfortable balance, her eyes never leaving mine. The tension ratcheted up another notch, the air thick with unspoken longing. The sight of her legs spread, the curve of her body exposed beneath the thin fabric, was almost too much to bear. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, mirroring the frantic rhythm of my arousal.

"You can't open the door until I tell you to," she stated, her voice low and husky, laced with a subtle threat. I nodded in agreement, a silent promise to obey her commands. The desire to be closer, to feel her presence, outweighed any hesitation. It was a powerful, primal urge, one that threatened to consume me entirely.

With a firm hand, she unlocked the door and pulled it open a crack, revealing a sliver of the outside world. As she turned, her rear end exposed, she leaned against the glass, her pussy glistening with anticipation. The image was both shocking and captivating, a visual feast that sent shivers down my spine. She used one hand for balance on the chair and the other to furiously stimulate her clitoris, her movements precise and deliberate. The sight of her exposed pleasure center, coupled with the sheer intimacy of the situation, was almost overwhelming.

"Now, put your hard cock against the glass," she commanded, her voice a silken whisper. Without hesitation, I reached out, my hand trembling slightly as I brought my erect manhood close to the cool surface of the glass. The sensation was electrifying, a jolt of pure pleasure that resonated through my entire body.

She continued to tease, her voice laced with seductive whispers, drawing me deeper into her web of desire. "Do you like the view? How bad do you want me?" she asked, her gaze unwavering, her eyes promising an experience beyond my wildest dreams. My response, a guttural moan of pleasure, was a testament to the intensity of my arousal.

As the anticipation reached its peak, I began to push against the glass, testing its strength, my muscles straining with the effort. The glass groaned under the pressure, a subtle warning of its vulnerability. "That cock of yours looks perfect next to my pussy, don't you think babe?" she purred, her voice dripping with anticipation. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, intensifying my desire even further. "I think they will look so much better when your cock is deep in me and covered in my juices. Can’t you tell that my pussy is so ready for you to spread me, babe? I bet you are dying to slide your huge cock inside of me, babe. Tell me how bad do you want me? Are you going to do me hard? You better.”

The words hung in the air, fueling my desire, pushing me closer to the edge of ecstasy. The frustration of being just inches away from her, separated only by the unforgiving glass, was almost unbearable. The scent of her perfume intensified, filling my senses, drowning out all other thoughts.

Finally, she said, "Alright, big guy, now open the door and show this girl a good time.” With a surge of adrenaline, I swung the door open, pulling myself into her embrace. The moment of release was explosive, a torrent of sensation that washed over me, erasing all thoughts of the glass, of the separation, of anything but the sheer bliss of being with her.

As we succumbed to our desires, she no longer needed the support of the chair. We lay intertwined on the plush carpet, her hips high, my thrusting deep within her. Her body arched in pleasure, her hands clutching at my back, her voice a low moan of ecstasy. I felt her contracting around my cock, a powerful, rhythmic pulse that intensified my pleasure. Her hand returned to her clitoris, further stimulating her pleasure center. It was a mixed vaginal orgasm, an experience unlike any I had ever known, a perfect fusion of pleasure and pain. The intensity of the moment left us both breathless, lost in the euphoria of our shared pleasure. The glass was forgotten, the world outside irrelevant. It was just us, lost in the heat of the moment, united by our shared desire, and completely consumed by the pleasure of our encounter.

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Glass Slippers, Wet Dreams

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