Ang the Sweltering Celt came up with a good one this week: games. Here’s my contribution.
I lean over the board, the flickering light emanating from the fireplace dancing a merry jig across my skin. I run a fingertip down the strap and over the top rim of the cup of my black silk bra, feeling but not seeing her eyes tracking my every move.
I contemplate the square wooden tiles in front of me, mind racing, calculating, concluding. My hand moves from bra to board, arranging. I sit back, triumphant, only to meet her eyes and see the same victory in them, amplified by the smug quirk of her lips.
“That’s only seventeen, baby. Not enough to top my twenty-five. Off with that bra, honey.”
I grin. Lean forward again. Lift my G tile to reveal the pink box underneath.
“Double word score, baby.” As her eyes widen and her smirk fades into a surprised O, my eyes track down and settle on boxer briefs not doing much to hide leather harness and hard, smooth cock. “Let’s see what you’re packing.”