King Coral - Honey Bare

Sensually her hands came up to them, to cup and stroke them, to massage them, as though she were trying to obliterate the lines that the tight bra had made on her soft skin. At the same time her head was thrown back and she’d jutted out her hips, the tip, of her tongue beginning to lick at the full lips as though she found the touch of her hands excruciatingly delightful.

It was a sensuous dance, but more than that, it was an exciting young woman giving the impression that she was alone, within the safety and confines of her apartment, disrobing either to retire or to step into the shower. Now I knew why she’d worked out the act.

She was trying to convey that she’d come home, arriving in her street clothes; and the scene was one of a sexy and passionate maiden on fire and lusting for the touch of a man. And for a man watching, it gave the connotation of coming unexpectedly into her apartment because she’d left the door ajar on purpose, or watching her from next door because she’d deliberately moved in front of the window where the shades hadn’t been drawn.

I’d never thought of myself as having the traits of a Peeping Tom; but Honey was changing all that. Occasionally, as she turned her head either to the left or the right, the tip of her red tongue moistly licked at one of the bare shoulders.

While her hands continued to caress the lovely breasts they filled out even more, the nipples enlarging and becoming stiff, their delicate pink hues darkening to the shade of cherries.

Slowly her hands moved away from her breasts. Her palms pressed tightly against the skin of her stomach as her hands moved downwards, slowly and passionately, to stroke her weaving sides and flanks.

Suddenly she tossed her head back, as though the hunger had erupted within her and the wanting was too much to bear. Her hand went to the zipper at the side of her skirt, lingered there momentarily, and then moved away again. She gave the impression that she might be afraid to remove her clothing because she’d be unable to cope with the consequence.

But after a few bars of the music the hand returned to the zipper again. While her hips moved and gyrated more noticeable, the hand began to move the zipper.

Slowly at first, and then with a savage thrust her hand moved it all the way down.

Now both thumbs were hooked into the waist of her open skirt, forcing it over her full hips. The top of the black sheer half-slip became visible as the skirt began to move downward.

Seductively she began to slide it down her thighs, bending forward slightly as she did that, her heavy breasts moving only slightly as she squirmed and wiggled. The strands of honey-colored hair tumbled forward. As she straightened up and kicked the skirt aside, the breasts were screened by the golden mist of hair.

I found that I’d been squirming about on the couch, the drink forgotten in my hand as I stared at her. Not too long ago it had gotten very warm in the apartment; and I could hear the drumming of my heart as I watched her begin to slither out of the half-slip.

Her glance was fixed on my face and I could see the tip of her tongue sweeping erratically across the red fullness of her lower lips. Her eyes had darkened and I found the heat flickering in their depths, her quick breath causing the breasts to surge markedly.

With our glances locked I suddenly realized that the sensuality of the dance had actually gotten to her. It wasn’t a routine anymore. It was no longer merely a young woman who pretended that she was fighting the hunger and passion that coursed through her.

At some moment Honey had become a slave to her own passion and now every movement was natural, the sly techniques that every woman possessed and used when she meant to have a man I was positive of it. Because the moment the half-slip had fallen to the rug and she’d kicked it aside, the record had ended. There was no more music; but Honey continued her dance because she was completely unaware of the stillness in the apartment.

She was now topless. She was a wild and wanton woman who squirmed her hips and shifted her shoulders so the ends of her honey-colored hair could caress her turgid breasts and stiffened nipples.

Down below she was wearing a G-string type of thing. It was not much larger than an eye patch with the two elastic bands leading away from the groin like two long fingers that clasped her hip bone. Her legs were long, almost perfect, the thighs firm and the muscles ripply visibly under the caramel skin as she twisted and rotated exotically.

She was even more exciting then I’d guessed; and as if she had read my thoughts, she moved slowly towards me, stopping at the edge of the couch to stare down at me through long dark lashes. She was close enough for me to reach out and touch her.

That’s what I wanted to do, and I knew that’s what she ‘wanted me to do. Slowly I brought my hand forward and let my fingertips move lightly across her surging abdomen.

Her skin was like heated silk, and as my fingers stroked the front of her, sliding across the patch and moving out toward her hips, I could feel the shivers that rippled through her and increased the tempo of her movements.

With the tip of her tongue jabbing erratically at her lower lip, she moved and swayed, stepping back demurely so that I could no longer touch her. Coming in again, she let me stroke and caress her more. All the while she was teasing, tantalizing, offering me the delights of her skin and then taking it away again.

As she retreated towards the center of the room, I rolled onto my sides and set my glass next to the lamp on the end table. Then I slid forward to the edge of the couch. I was sitting upright with my feet planted on the floor as I waited for her to return.

She watched me and she knew what I’d done. Then she was coming towards me again, her hips not gyrating quite as much as before. Instead, she shoved her groin forward, and with her knees slightly bent she moved towards me on bare feet, her groin moving in slow and sensual bumps.

I waited, letting her come as near to me as she wanted. When she was about three feet away she tossed her head. Then her hands were moving the storm of her hair to the back of her shoulders. Her hands came down and settled on her hips and she was bent back slightly at the waist.

Her feet began to move apart and then she came towards me, bringing the black patch of the G-string closer to me, another foot nearer, and then she stopped, offering it to me as she continued the leisurely and sensuous bumps.

I brought my hands forward, letting them lightly stroke the outside of her thighs. I slid my palms up and over the flaring hips, let them slide down again. This time when my hands traveled up the outside of her thighs they stopped at the elastic bands stretched over her hip bones.

Gently and very slowly I let my fingers sink into her hot moist skin until my fingertips’ were hooked on the elastic; and then I was bringing my hands down, pulling the elastic along with them, arriving at the second elastic strand, and hooking my fingers in it, too.

Carefully I pulled it downward, seeing the slack that had developed in the black patch, watching it slowly separate from her and slip away from what it had been covering. And now, as I pulled the elastic bands down her thighs, she brought her legs together. With little tension on the bands, I stripped the G-string over her knees and down to her calves.

Honey lifted one foot and I let her step out of it, then the other one. When she was finally free of it, I flung it aside. Again Honey moved away from me.

With her head tipped back and the long lashes resting on her cheekbones I couldn’t tell whether she was watching me or not. It didn’t make any difference. I’d already shrugged out of my coat and now I was quickly getting rid of my tie and shirt.