Summer evokes eroticism
by D. Katarina
Summer evokes eroticism. By shedding layers of clothing due to heat, both men and women expose their skins. Visuality is stimulated to the point where hands want to touch and wrap themselves around the bare skin of shoulders, bellies, legs and even feet to test its softness.
To present you with the imagery here: the light, silk, strapless dress of which the skirt is easily lifted by the breeze, is black in color. The one who wears it against freshly-bathed pale skin is aware of her sexual power radiating outward through the way she walks and moves her hips. This elegant simplicity or rough grace of a tall female animal in heat is given by the shoes she has chosen to wear: black leather ankle high heel sandals showing red toes.
She goes to meet a man who seems promising. She is not running late: she doesn’t need to or want to run, and enjoys her walk on the bright side of the street. The sun – the blinded admirer, as if a reflector on a stage, follows her.
As she is nearing the meeting point and is evidently being recognized, a man from inside a restaurant waves and smiles at her in an exaggerated manner. She enters; he stands up, scans her from head to toe, sighs, then rests his eyes, safely, with his head bowed, on her shoes and offers her a seat. She instantly knows that is a good sign: a sign of submission.
Before sitting down, she removes her dark sun glasses; he steals a glimpse of her piercing eyes that are now, in turn, scanning him. He is tempted, but doesn’t dare to look into her Medusa eyes anymore.
Each sipping their own summer drink, they exchange symbolic phrases. She leads the conversation, smiles, red lips ablaze.
Each knowing the purpose of this meeting, they enjoy the animated company of the other.
She crosses her legs; thighs shimmer and shine.
His hands are nervous, fingers of one embracing the stem of a cock-
tail glass; the other is under the table. On his lap, or in his trouser pocket, she wants to find out.
So she extends, stretches out her leg to find and place it on a hidden hand making space between his thighs. Her lovely shoe is now in his palm, but she presses against it; his hand is defeated, he puts it on the table. She keeps the foot where it is: sole of the sandal on a hard pulsating cock, arch of the foot against the balls and the heel comfortably behind them.
During the further conversation a strong urge, a desire to touch the shoe, to softly stroke the ankle overcomes him, but he is quickly put in his place by her playful and teasing NO. Instead she creates more pressure on his crotch, making his eyes expose their whites, his breath deepen and his focus shift….
At the moment where he seems to enjoy it the most, she withdraws her leg and the sensation, as when you suddenly shut the television, vanishes. She rises from her seat, comes to him, gently lifts his chin and tells him almost whisperingly so he has to lip-read her: “I’ll e-mail you tonight. Then you can touch yourself, but no orgasm! See you tomorrow.” And he is left with lingering arousal in a cloud of her only slowly fading perfume.