With lithe grace she stepped from the shower as the April sun filtered through the window, carrying with it sweet perfume – spice of honeysuckle, bouquet of lavender. A day holding the promise of fulsome delight as she took a step toward the closet, pirouetted and at once was inside. She giggled and recalled something from years ago; “The Muse visits during the act of creation, not before. Don’t wait for her. Start alone.” And so she did.
A kiss of pheromone as she dabbed the tranquil liquid across her nipples – already excited by anticipation of meeting anew somebody with whom she was already familiar. Next, the graceful slide of a drawer revealing a luxurious plethora of delicate and finely crafted panties – knowing the anticipation he felt when the familiar turned into the unexpected. It was erotic just to feel the caress of the fabric against her tingling, dampened skin, knowing that she could towel dry her body, but never cease feeling the dewy essence pressed against the lacy panties. This was especially so when she would see him – familiar, yet titillating in a fascination reserved for the imagination of dreams.
As she drifted between now of Spring provocation and later provocative imaginings, she felt a sudden stirring as she realized he was behind her. He leaned in close as the pheromone scent reached him. Without hesitation his hand drifted over the textured fabric as her hand slipped behind her to caress his thigh. The closet became filled with scent – at once sensual and seductive, erotic and forbidden.
She wanted to turn into him, but held back as her waistband drifted away. Carried with the gossamer fabric, she drifted away also as the Spring air filtered through the window.
What happens next…. Well, its your turn.