Obsidian Curves

My husband recently sent me this story, and I thought I’d share. It made me so hot.

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Dearest Sabrina,

I’ve been having this fantasy, one that keeps me up at night, thinking about you and how much I want you. Let me paint the picture for you.

Imagine we’re out on a date night, just the two of us. You’re wearing that black dress, the one that clings to your curves like a second skin. The restaurant is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of expensive wine and gourmet food, but all I can focus on is you. The candlelight dances in your eyes, and your lips are curved in a smile that promises so much more. It's a dress that begs to be taken off, isn't it? You’re a vision in that little black dress, a siren song of sin and pleasure, and I can’t help but feel the pull, the desperate urge to lose myself in your intoxicating presence.

You lean in, your voice a sultry whisper, “I’m not wearing any panties.” Just hearing those words sends a shockwave of desire through me. I can feel my body responding, the anticipation building with each passing second. The world around us fades away, leaving just the two of us in our own little bubble. The scent of your perfume, a heady mix of jasmine and vanilla, fills my senses, clinging to my skin as you draw closer. The air crackles with unspoken needs, a silent conversation between our bodies, an invitation to indulge in the pleasures we both crave. It’s an exquisite torture, knowing what you're wearing, knowing the subtle hints of arousal that peek through the thin fabric, the tantalizing glimpses of your skin beneath.

Throughout the meal, the tension between us is electric. Every brush of your hand against mine, every subtle shift in your seat, it all drives me wild. I can see the outline of your nipples through the thin fabric of your dress, and it takes every ounce of my willpower not to reach out and touch you. My fingers twitch, itching to trace the curve of your collarbone, to feel the warmth of your skin against my own. The waiter brings another bottle of wine, but I barely register it. My focus is entirely on you, on the delicious anticipation of what’s to come. The low hum of conversation in the background seems distant, unimportant, as my senses sharpen, honing in on the intoxicating scent of your skin and the undeniable heat that radiates from your body. You pull your chair closer, your body leaning into mine, and the proximity intensifies the feeling, making my heart pound against my ribs. The dress seems to cling even tighter now, emphasizing every curve and contour of your body, a visual reminder of the exquisite pleasure you offer.

As the night wears on, the need to be with you, to touch you, grows stronger. I stand, offering you my hand, and we make our way out of the restaurant. The cool night air hits us, but it does little to quell the heat between us. The cobblestone streets feel like a warm blanket against my feet as we walk, each step bringing me closer to the inevitable. I can feel your hand in mine, the slight tremor in your grip mirroring the excitement building within me. We turn down a quiet alleyway, away from the prying eyes of the city, and the feeling intensifies.

We walk to the car, the sounds of the city fading into the background. I open the door for you, my hand lingering on your waist as you slide into the seat. The scent of your perfume fills the car, mixing with the faint but intoxicating scent of your arousal. As I start the engine, I can feel your eyes on me, the weight of your gaze heavy and full of promise. The leather seats feel cool against my skin, a stark contrast to the heat that’s building within me. The windows are tinted, but I can still see the reflection of you in the rearview mirror, a captivating image of desire and anticipation. I drive, trying to focus on the road ahead, but all I can think about is you—the soft curves of your body, the smooth skin beneath your dress, and the soft curls of your pubic hair. The knowledge that you’re not wearing any panties is driving me crazy, and I can feel my resolve to wait crumbling. The image of that little black dress, clinging to your body, is burned into my mind, fueling my every impulse.

I pull into a secluded spot off the road and park, the city lights twinkling in the distance behind us. I turn to you, my hand reaching out to touch your cheek. You lean into my touch, your eyes closed, a soft sigh escaping your lips. My hand moves down, tracing the line of your jaw, your neck, your collarbone. You shiver, your breath hitching slightly. I can see the rise and fall of your breasts, the soft mounds straining against the fabric of your dress. It’s a beautiful sight, a testament to your allure, and it confirms all my deepest desires. My hand moves lower, my fingers brushing against the fabric of your dress. I can feel the heat of your skin, the soft curve of your breast. You lean into my touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. I slide my hand under your dress, my fingers brushing against your thigh. You moan again, your body trembling with anticipation. I can feel the soft curls of your pubic hair, the heat of your core just inches away. The anticipation is almost unbearable, a delicious torture that I find myself craving.

I move my hand higher, my fingers brushing against your wetness. You gasp, your body arching into my touch. I can feel your desire, the proof of your arousal coating my fingers. I slide a finger inside you and immediately feel your body clenching around me. You moan, your head falling back, your eyes closed. I can feel your body responding to my touch, the heat building between us. The air grows thick with unspoken longing, a silent plea for release. You pull my hand back, your fingers delicately caressing my face. Your gaze is intense, filled with a mixture of excitement and vulnerability, and it sends shivers down my spine.

I stand, offering you my hand, and we make our way out of the car. The cool night air hits us, but it does little to quell the heat between us. The moon hangs high in the sky, casting a silvery glow on our surroundings, adding to the romantic atmosphere. We walk to the riverbank, the water flowing gently beneath us, a soothing soundtrack to our growing desire. I lead you to a secluded spot, hidden from view, where we can indulge in our passions without fear of interruption.

I kneel down, pulling you close to me, and gently remove the dress from your body. The cool air rushes over your skin, a welcome relief after the heat of the car. You gasp softly as you feel the freedom of your nakedness, the exposure both thrilling and a little frightening. As you look up at me, your eyes filled with desire, I realize that this moment is everything I've ever wanted. I reach out, tracing the curve of your hip, the delicate arch of your back, the smooth expanse of your stomach. You lean into my touch, your body trembling with anticipation. I slide my hand under your dress, my fingers brushing against your thigh. You moan again, your body trembling with anticipation. My fingers trace the delicate line of your pubic hair, feeling the heat of your core just inches away. The anticipation is almost unbearable, a delicious torture that I find myself craving.

My hand moves higher, my fingers brushing against your wetness. You gasp, your body arching into my touch. I can feel your desire, the proof of your arousal coating my fingers. I slide a finger inside you and immediately feel your body clenching around me. You moan, your head falling back, your eyes closed. I can feel your body responding to my touch, the heat building between us. The world fades away, leaving just the two of us in our own private sanctuary, lost in the intoxicating pleasure of our shared desires. The rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, the soft moans that escape your lips, the warmth of your skin against mine—it’s a symphony of sensations, a perfect expression of our mutual passion.

The climax arrives with a surge of intense pleasure, a release of pent-up desire that leaves us both breathless and exhausted. We lie there, tangled together, our bodies intertwined, savoring the afterglow of our passionate encounter. The city lights twinkle in the distance, casting long shadows across the riverbank, but we don’t notice them. All that matters is the connection we share, the profound intimacy that has been forged in the heat of our bodies. I slowly pull away, my hand lingering on your hip, tracing the curve of your body. You smile softly, your eyes filled with gratitude and affection, a silent acknowledgment of the pleasure we’ve shared. The little black dress remains discarded on the ground, a silent witness to our passionate night, a reminder of the delicious torment and ultimate satisfaction we’ve experienced. And as I lead you back to the car, I know that this is just the beginning of our shared journey into pleasure and desire.

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