The Art Of Finger Fucking

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It was in the Consort Bar, at the King Edward Hotel, where our paths crossed. I couldn’t pry my eyes away from her as she walked in, on another man’s arm. A trace of a knowing smile and the slightest nod of her head went unnoticed to everyone but me. It was her clandestine reply to the silent compliment I had paid her. She gracefully slipped her arm from around the man’s bent elbow, just as they reached the table for two in front of me. He slid a chair away from the circular glass table. I admired her body as she gracefully bent at the knees and sat down with her back to me. The man asked to be excused. “Of course, darling.” Her voice made my cock twitch. She brought her left hand to the back of her slender neck, and gently rubbed her fingers against her skin. The wedding band and diamond ring caught the light and sparkled for my eyes only. She turned in her chair to face me. “Please forgive me for sitting with my back to you,” her words were emotionless, her face was expressionless. I grinned. “The price of my forgiveness is one kiss from your lips.” She had initiated a game I was well versed in. She tilted her head slightly, and calmly replied, “I am a married woman. That is incredibly rude, and, highly inappropriate for you to even think about, let almanbahis şikayet alone say to me.” I lowered my head and broadened my grin. “I am aware that you are married. You flashed your wedding band and diamond ring at me. The price of my forgiveness remains one kiss from your lips.” She shook her head and replied, “Hmph. You have an eye,” she purposefully paused mid-sentence, gazed at my left hand that was wrapped around the near empty snifter, and grinned, “for things. My art gallery is located on Yorkville. Perhaps something I have on display might catch that sharp eye of yours.” She turned away from me and smiled at the waiter that was on his way to her table. “Two Remy Martin Louis XIII, please,” she politely ordered. ~ Yorkville is an affluent neighborhood in Toronto. It is one of the most exclusive shopping districts in the world. Part of what is referred to as, The Mink Mile. And, is a twenty five minute walk from the office building I work in. The next day, at noon, I strolled north on Yonge Street, and turned left on to Yorkville Avenue. The gallery I was in search of was located three shops north of Bellair Street. A small brass plate with the word, Tzarina’s, was set flush in the middle panel of the gallery’s door. I grinned to myself almanbahis canlı casino as I thought how appropriately the name suited her. A single bronze sculpture was on display in the front window. I recognized it as Adamaris, sculpted by Donna Jean Mayne. I took a moment to admire the beauty of the Spanish Moss patina finish the artist had created on the surface of the bronze figure, sitting and dipping her fingers into a body of water. The artist’s first series, Dono Dell’Acqua, is my favorite. Each figure performs the simple act of testing the waters with her fingers or toes. The bronze statutes were inspired as a reminder of the precious gift of water, and that our survival depends on it. The metallic click of the door’s magnetic lock was accompanied by short chime. I pulled the door open and entered the gallery. Tzarina smiled as she approached me. “Is there anything that I have on display that catches your eye?” I took every inch of her in, slowly, as she neared me. A pale pink ribbon kept her long, raven hair away from her face, neck, and shoulders. She was dressed in a Valentino, dropped waist, sleeveless, with a boat neckline, almost as black as her hair. Her bare legs were two slender pillars of porcelain, a lovely contrast almanbahis casino to the black of her dress. Each graceful step created the illusion that her pale pink, Yves-Saint-Laurent ankle strap sandals did not touch the marble floor. Tzarina stood only a hair’s breadth away from me. Her small breasts brushed against me with each breath she took. Before I could answer her, she placed her fingers against my lips. “Shhh,” she softly cooed. She rested both her hands on my shoulders and lifted her lips to mine. She kissed me gently, long, and passionately. “Am I forgiven?” she smiled. I grinned. “Where are my manners? Allow me to give you a private viewing.” She took my hand and led me to the back of the gallery. She reached for the door handle of her office, turned, looked up at me, and said, “I don’t know your name.” I grinned, “I’ll tell you my name after you suck my cock.” Tzarina smiled in approval, “That’s so fucking hot. My pussy just clenched.” She opened the door to her office and walked to the mahogany desk that took up most of the office space. She turned to face me, curled her lips, and narrowed her eyes, as she lifted the hem of her dress over her hips, and slid her bare ass onto the desk. “Sit,” she casually commanded. I remained standing. Tzarina licked her lips as she watched the muscles in my jaw tighten. “I don’t take to being told what to do very well, Tzarina. Keep that in mind, if you want this to continue,” I sternly informed her. She smiled softly, and spread her legs a little wider.

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