Clothes finally start to come off

With that, she pushes my pants to the plush carpet, leaving me standing with only my socks on and my slacks bunched up around them, while my erection sticks almost straight out. We’re both watching it bob out in the open, when she takes a couple of steps back toward the bed and shakes her head.

Reaching the edge of it, her eyes are locked on my cock like she’s seeing it for the first time all over again, and a breathy laugh escapes her.

“De puta madre…” she murmurs, shaking her head slowly. “I still can’t get over how impressive that thing is.”

I grin, feeling weird at being so openly judged, but also a sense of pride from believing her, and I wrap my hand around the base, giving it a little playful shake in her direction

“I’ll have to take your word for it,” I say, and all of a sudden think I maybe have the slightest inkling of how women must feel when men just stare at them.

She sinks down onto the mattress, sitting right at the edge and parting her thighs slightly under the silver dress. “Oh, trust me, baby,” she says, sounding certain. “I certainly do say so.”

Her gaze flicks up to mine, regaining her playful expression.

“Well, Mr. Birthday Boy,” she continues, “since you’re such an ass man, should we end the suspense and let you have a look at what you’ve been dreaming about?”

I swallow hard at the notion that I’m going to truly get to see it, and nod once, clearing my throat. “Um, sure.”

She scoots back a few inches, then turns and rises onto her knees so she’s facing away from me. The dress is already riding high on her thighs from the movements, but she reaches behind with both hands, catching the hem. Agonizingly slowly, she starts to hike it upward just another inch.

I watch transfixed as my hand tightens around my shaft instinctively. She glances over her shoulder, catches the way my grip flexes, and smiles at the effect she’s already having on me.

“You sure?” she teases. “It could be just as hairy as your favorite customer’s.”

The dress is right at the bottom curve of her cheeks, exposing the faintest hint of white fabric peeking out beneath where it covers her mound. I’m shamelessly stroking myself out in the open at this point.

“Somehow I doubt it.”

With a teasing expression, she shrugs, then holds the pose. Her ass is arched, and the dress is barely covering anything.

“Sure you can see from all the way back there?” she asks in a sultry tone. “After all this time, I’d think you’d want a better look.”

Kicking my feet free of my pants, I step forward in anticipation, until I’m right at the edge of the bed. My dick throbbing in my hand, I never take my eyes off the round orbs just barely hidden from my view.

“There you go,” I hear. Then she bends forward, bracing herself on one hand. Her back arches beautifully, lifting her ass higher, causing her panty-covered mound to show from underneath it. With the other hand, she reaches back where the hem of her dress sits right above her mound, and pulls the dress the rest of the way up.

She’s wearing a simple white thong, and the thin strip of fabric disappears between her perfect, round cheeks. There’s definitely no hair, no imperfections. Just smooth golden skin with the tan line I’d mentioned to her, and the heart-shaped outline I’ve been obsessing over since the day I saw her. I can’t see her asshole like I did with that fucking guy’s, but the way her ass is big enough to hide the band of material even while she’s bent over is enough to make me feel like I could cum on the spot. And it’s not big in a fatty way, but meaty and instantly settles right back into place when she wiggles it at me.

She watches me over her shoulder with a glint of mischief. “Sorry I didn’t have a Santa hat G-string,” she says, “but I hope this is an acceptable substitute. So, is it better or not?”

“Better,” I rasp. “Way fucking better.” As I speak, instinct starts taking over to reach out for what’s being offered to me, and my hand shoots forward.

My fingers barely get to graze the curve of one cheek when she lets out a surprised little giggle, then quickly jumps forward, yanking the dress back down. She lets out a laugh, denying me of what she just showed.

“Hey!” she scolds playfully, turning to face me on her knees. “Even the birthday boy has to eat his dinner before he gets dessert.”

I groan, squeezing my cock even harder. “You’re killing me over here.”

She knee-walks forward a few inches with an adorable little wiggle, and then raises back upright on her knees to put a finger to my lips.

“Shush,” she demands, staring right into my eyes, dropping any pretense of playfulness. “I’ve brushed my teeth, now kiss me.”

The hand at my mouth wraps around the back of my head as she closes her eyes and tilts forward, pulling me in. Unlike our earlier kisses, we don’t feel the rush we previously had, and I lean in so that our lips lightly touch. They feel just as soft as they look, and her lipstick even feels like velvet. She has fuller lips than anyone I’ve ever had the pleasure of kissing before. I can taste the mint of her toothpaste when her mouth opens and teases my lips. She sighs into the kiss like she’s been waiting for it all night, and I open mine to meet her tongue with my own. This time we explore each other without hurry. She melts against me, sliding her hands to rest on my shoulders.

I let one hand drift down over the sequins covering her back, eventually finding the dip at the base of her spine, then cautiously moving lower, hoping she doesn’t stop me again, until I’m palming the curve of her ass through her dress. I squeeze gently, feeling the firm, plush give of her, before it flexes to keep her balance, and she hums softly into my mouth.

Eventually, she breaks the kiss, but keeps her lips pressed to mine.

“The zipper’s in the back,” she whispers. “Take my dress off.”

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