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Lace Work

Lace is an openwork fabric, patterned with open holes in the work. It can be made by machine, or by hand. The holes can be formed via removal of threads or cloth from a previously woven fabric, but more often open spaces are created as part of the lace fabric. Lace-making is an ancient craft. True lace was not made until the late 15th and early 16th centuries. A true lace is created when a thread is looped, twisted or braided to other threads independently from a backing fabric.

It also makes you feel fucking sexy...

The lace on my soft skin is like a confidence boost. It looks and feels sexy. I feel like a seductress about to pounce on her willing prey. I look in the mirror and I can see my skin through the lace. It shows so much, but still leaves some for the imagination. I turn and look at my ass. I can see that the bottom of my ass cheeks peek out just a little and the little black thong is barely visible. I turn back to the front and look at my breasts. The lace cups them erotically. I can just make out my nipples, the lace blocking most of them out. I look at my eyes; they are amber, with the makeup I have applied. Black and gold, to match the lace-work. My long hair is down and slightly wet.

I have applied a tiny bit of fragrance on my skin in my most intimate of areas. My neck, one long spray downward; between the cleavage of my voluptuous breasts, a small amount right below my navel and my inner thigh. My skin was warm and oh, so soft and now, I smell like sweet fruit. I know I am going through so much effort for you, and you are just going to rip it off anyway.

But that just makes it all the better. I love when you lose control. I love when the beast inside of you comes out... It drives me wild.

I apply a tiny bit of gloss to my full lips and then slip into my 5 inch black heels. They click over the marble tiles in the bathroom as I turn off the light. My heels are quieted by the plush white carpet in the hall and on the stairs. Now, where to wait until you walk through the door...?

It has been to long since you have been home. Your job has taken you all over the world, lately you have been in London and that is just too damn far for my liking. But it has all paid off. You are now CEO of the company and on a direct flight home. I have missed your voice, your warmth, your smile and your heart beat. I miss the sex... I defiantly miss the sex. I am a sexual creature and no sex for 6 months has been like a bitter winter in July. I need you. I need you to make my body hum and quiver. I want my cum to gush from my pussy, all over your face, fingers, stomach and cock. I can't wait to taste your's, and feel it fill up all of me. YUM! So tonight I am going all out, and hopefully a reward will be coming my way.

Now, how to play this little thing out?

I could wait on the couch, maybe lounging, my hair to the side.... No, no. I've done that already. I could go back upstairs and cuff myself to the bed, but I've done that to. Maybe at the top of the stairs, my legs spread wide, the black thong barely covering my freshly shaved pussy.... But that just doesn't seem seductive enough for me at the moment.

I stand in the downstairs hall and think for a few moments. A small grin breaks out across my face and I walk into the kitchen. After all, it is our favorite place. I think we have fucked on every surface possible in here. Every chair, counter, fridge, stove, sink....

Ooh... the sink. My, we made such a mess, but I know the little sprayer has some fabulous pressure!

I go the fridge and pull out a few items. I place the strawberries in a glass bowl and I warm the chocolate on the stove, then place it in a bowl as well. I eat a few, because I just can't sit next to chocolate and not have a little. I hear the door and my heart accelerates from 20-90 mph.
I hop up on the counter and cross my legs, looking down at my hands. I hear you come down the hall and I hear you come into the kitchen. I hear your briefcase hit the floor and I look up. You are standing there, jaw dropped.

I grin, mission accomplished. And it's all thanks to this little bit of Lace...
This story is protected by International Copyright Law, by the author, all rights reserved. If found posted anywhere other than with this note attached, it has been posted without my permission.

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