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Tuesday, 29 April 2008

Denise van Outen...

She sashays in, rippling and translucent in black neglige, her nipples sombre ammonites behind their charcoal veil. Throwing back sheafs of platinum, silvikrin smooth and shiny, she shimmies gently in a loose limbed dance before me. Freezing her love jive in a put on pout, she drops suddenly to her knees at my feet and begins slowly to work her way up, dotting her passage with limpet kisses as she goes, until finally arriving at my hard centre, hovering there momentarily; slightly tremulous and first-time vulnerable. She runs a sharp trowel of fingernail along the length of taut blue vein before returning it somewhere deep within her gauzy folds, her body undulating softly to the rhythm of these unseen, inner explorations. Eyes closed, head lolling doll-like, she bites down on her glistening lower lip, front teeth pearly spades plunging into a toffee apple crust. Sensing the moment drawing close, I dive down, my mouth a mollusc at the downy porcelain of her inner thigh. A blindman grappling, I grab at the diaphanous robe, now loosened, a windless sail cast adrift behind where she is sat. With eager hands, I scrunch the floaty mesh to form an opaque cummerbund. As she reclines and opens to receive my hips, I gently tie it at her nape, pulling slowly until the gag hollows her cheeks to dimples and contorts her lips into an elongated 'O'. Of course, it's not enough to shut her up completely, but I find it does at least take the edge of that voice. Thus bridled, I mount and shaft her to the muffled strains of 'All That Jazz'.

L.U.V. on y'all,





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