Sex with a Ghost 1&2

She fell, sinking into the bed and didn't move for a few minutes, instead just imagining how it would be to have sex on such a bed and cosy room. Done fantasying, she called Peter informing him that she was in the room lying naked and wet, awaiting his return. That, sure enough, will make him hurry up at whatever he was doing.

She went into the bathroom, had a really slow and nice shower, washing and shaving everything and everywhere properly. Came out from the bathroom with just a new red bra and a matching red panty – those not covering everything made with a net-like material and has a smooth feel. She slides back into the soft bed with a glass of champagne, tune down the air conditioner and turned on the TV.

At exactly twenty-six past eight pm, the door slides open again and Peter in his entire glory stepped in. He was in a dashing black suit with a red tie that matched her underwear. What a coincidence?

But Heaven was already angry, why will he keep her horny and waiting? No woman likes the combination of those. She refused to get up from the bed to welcome him and said nothing either.

Reading her facial expression he knew immediately he was in for a little trouble. Those that later ignite the fire of passionate love. He kept her waiting on purpose. This will keep her anticipating, which is a good thing.

"I'm really sorry baby, it was work and traffic. I didn't mean to keep this goddess waiting" He said and fell on the bed, with the tip of his finger tardily brushing her right hand. She ignored him, acting up.

"I'm really sorry baby," he said one more time making a face and drawing it closer to her lips.

"Alright; just go and take a shower. You smell of sweat and cigar". She responded faking a smile. He was wrong to keep her horny and waiting but she wasn't going to let that spoil the night. She has waited so long for this night.

"That's my baby girl," he said hurriedly giving her a wet peck on her right cheek.

Quickly, he undressed to just boxers and was heading to the bathroom when she grabbed his left hand, swiftly pulled him back to the bed and with all sexiness said

"If you don't kiss me right now, I will never forgive you".

Without taking another breath, he leaned closer and his mouth crushed down on hers. Warm lips moulded over hers, one hand tangled in her hair, the other reached low and splayed over the curve of her spine, and she did nothing to stop him, to allay the onslaught to her senses.

Instead, she closed her eyes and felt the wonder of his mouth, the gentle scratch of his goatee against her skin, the heat of his body against hers. His tongue slid easily past her teeth, the tip touching the ridges along the roof of her mouth as he tasted her, touched her. She kissed him back, her own tongue exploring this man of whom she knew so little, who irritated her not long ago.

She fell back into the bed grinning, excited; she knew exactly what he was doing; she had played the game before. The ability to delay, not to give in totally, to keep your victim wanting more is the ultimate art of seduction. Anticipation is half the fun.