He takes his time with me. Slowly peeling my clothes from me and dropping them to the floor, piece by piece. My eyes never leave his, hoping that his gaze will reveal his intentions. His look gives away nothing. The very last thing he peels from me are my panties. With one finger hooked inside the waistband he slowly slides them down my thighs and lifts each of my legs stepping me out of them. Standing before him, completely exposed, my breathing goes shallow in anticipation of what is to come. I know better than to attempt to move, to show modesty by covering myself. The seconds tick by as his eyes move over every inch of my naked flesh. When he reaches out it is simply to turn me around. His doll on a pedestal to be admired from every angle.
His hands go to my jawline and he lifts my face to his. He smiles at me and runs his thumb over my lips. He trails one finger down my neck and across my collarbone, tracing lazy patterns across my skin. Still I am silent. The urge to reach out and touch him is overwhelming. His fingertips walk down my stomach and I hold my breath, silently begging him to slip down further. He follows my tan lines with those fingers, over my hips and back across my stomach.
My cunt is aching for his touch. My body is humming with need. My mind is screaming with wants. And yet he makes me wait. My first lesson in patience.