Counter Play
The stainless steel of the range heats your skin. You stretch your legs out, your feet resting on the counter. You lift your head, gazing at me. I lean in, my hand tracing the curve of your hip. The scent of fresh herbs fills the air, mixing with your warmth. You feel deliciously exposed.
The stainless steel kitchen reflects her curves. She’s leaning against the cool counter, her gaze fixed on you. The air is thick with anticipation. She shifts slightly, revealing more. You reach out, drawn to her warmth. Her skin is soft and inviting. Let’s take this further. The silence is broken only by your breath.
The stainless steel of the kitchen reflects her eyes, a silent invitation. She’s sprawled across the counter, her black stockings clinging to her legs. She looks at you, a hungry expression on her face. You take her, your hands tracing the curve of her body. The air thickens with anticipation as you begin.
The fluorescent lights of the laundromat cast a strange glow on the scene. He’s laid back, fully exposed on the counter. She’s leaning in close, her eyes locked on his. She’s taking control, guiding his movements. He’s letting her lead, submitting completely. The rhythmic spin of the washing machines provides a strange soundtrack to their intense connection. It’s a moment of pure, unadulterated pleasure, right here, right now.
