“Oh, you tease!” he moaned, throwing back his neck so Vanessa could admire its swanlike length and prominent Adam’s apple.
For a moment, she maintained the pose she’d taken reflexively—arms crossed over her breasts, spine bent as if in shame, gaze lowered.
Then she straightened up, lifted her chin and spread her arms wide, so that her bare breasts were exposed in the fullest and most flattering way. Maybe they weren’t the tits of her twenties, but so what? They were the ones Ben wanted to see.
“Oh, I want to touch you,” he wheedled. “Let me touch them.”
She couldn’t keep him waiting any longer, and, besides, the thought of his hands on her body was too exciting to let pass. She shimmied across the room, feeling like Mata Hari or some other exotic, dangerous woman, loving the heady sense of erotic control.
He reached out for her hips, helping her onto the bed, where she straddled his lap, enjoying the texture of his jeans against her bare thighs.
“How much do you want it?” she whispered, placing her hands on his shoulders and nuzzling his cheek.
Her nipples grazed his cotton shirt. One of them caught on a button and she took a quick breath, shocked by the coldness of it.
“This is surreal,” he said with a low moan. “You’re really here…?”
“These aren’t surreal,” she said, drawing back and cupping one of her breasts in her hand. “They’re totally real. Do you want to find out how real?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Go on then. Touch them.”
She rocked gently up and down on his lap while he handled her breasts as if they were treasures at first, so gently and reverently. You’d think he’d never seen a woman’s chest before, she thought. Actually—has he…?
She felt a catch of anxiety in her throat, wondering if he was comparing them with other, younger, firmer, higher-set breasts that he might have fondled before.
“Beautiful,” he said. “So beautiful.” She breathed again.
“Do you really think so?”
He looked up, as if troubled by the unsure quality in her voice, and tutted at her.
“Don’t you? Don’t be so daft. I’ve been looking at these, under those tight sweaters you like to wear, day after day after day, and dreaming of getting to see them. They’re perfect. Look. I’m going to bury my face in them, and that’s the last you’ll see of me all day.”
She shrieked with laughter when he pushed his face right down between each globe and made a snuffling noise like a pig at the trough. He held them tight, devouring them with kisses until he managed to push one nipple into his mouth and tongue it ravenously.
Vanessa broke off laughing to pant, suddenly aflame from nipple tip to clit. She gyrated on his thighs, grabbing his head, pushing her breast further into his hungry mouth.
He clasped his hands around her back, holding her tight, and moved on to her other nipple, giving it equally lavish attention until she worried that she was soaking through her knickers and staining his jeans.
“Ben, oh, Ben,” she crooned, trying to pull away. “That’s so good, so good. But…”
He released her nipple with a final delicate lap.
“But?”
“When can I taste you? All these clothes…”
“Tell you what. You can watch me undress when I’ve got your knickers off.”
“Oh, yeah? And when will that be?”
“Just…about…now.”
She screamed again as he flipped her onto her back on the bed in one sweeping move. He’d done this before—he had to have done.
Her fears about bedding a virgin were alleviated, only to be replaced by vague wonderings about his previous lovers.