Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
Some guys just really like my butt. I know, I know. It’s a common thing, maybe even a cliché, BUTT…there are levels to it, aren’t there? And then there was him. HIM. Most guys, they like the curve, the shape, the way it looks in a tight pair of jeans or a silk dress. Standard appreciation. But this one? He was an ass man with a very particular vision.
He wanted me to dress up. Not for a party, not for a night out. Just for him, and for the specific fantasy he’d crafted in his mind. A patent black catsuit. Gleaming. And patent black stiletto boots, so high they practically dared me to fall. My nails, already long, were sharpened and painted a deep, dangerous crimson. When I looked in the mirror, I wasn’t just a woman in an outfit; I was a creature. A typical superhero villainess, absolutely, from the sharp lines of the suit to the predacious gleam in my own eyes. And I felt like one, too. Powerful. Unattainable. Menacing, even.
Some guys just really like my butt
The game, if you could call it that, began with a whisper of a plan. He’d left his study unlocked, the antique desk slightly ajar. He wanted to “catch” me rummaging for valuables. And I, in my slick, second skin, played along. I was rummaging, not really for anything specific, just feeling the weight of the old watch, the coldness of a silver paperweight. The air thickened when he entered. He stood in the doorway, a shadow, and the words came, low and gravelly. “What do you think you’re doing?”
The plan was for him to escalate the tension, to make the stakes feel real. But I’m not one for sticking to scripts, not when the moment calls for improvisation. The look on his face, that flicker of shock turning to something else entirely – desire warring with indignation – that’s where I stepped in. I didn’t need words. My eyes, narrowed, held his. My posture, a coil of contained power, spoke volumes. I took one slow step towards him, then another, the stiletto heels clicking a deliberate rhythm on the polished wood floor. There was a faint scent of leather and something else, something primal, in the air.
He started to raise his hand towards the phone. “I’m calling the—”
I put a stop to that, real fast. You know what I did? I seduced him. Not with grand gestures or dramatic pleas. It was in the way I moved, the way the patent black caught the light with every subtle shift of my hips. It was in the confident, knowing smile that spread across my lips, promising something far more potent than justice. His hand dropped. His eyes, wide now, followed my every subtle movement. The villainess wasn’t caught; she was in charge.
I placed both of my hands on the desk, spread my legs, and bent over. I could hear him breathing heavily, as he watched me. And then, just when he thought it couldn’t get any better, I took one of my sharpened nails and ripped the seam of my suit, one stitch at a time as he salivated, revealing my bare ass for him to ravage however he saw fit.
Amber 1-844-332-2639 ext 404
https://phonesexcandy.com/amber