Coming home for Christmas

B is coming home for Christmas!  We only decided about a week ago, and booked the flight together online.  I'm so excited!  It will start what I hope will be a pattern of only ever having two months apart at a time.  I miss her so much.

Pretty much the whole time she is home is planned up.  She has lots of friends to see; I'm worried I may not get my money's worth out of her ;)  We've agreed not to give Christmas presents to each other this year, but to give each other 'experiences' while she's home.  This could include dates, dinners, days out... but I'm hoping it's going to include lots of days (and nights) in as well.

B left behind most of her sexy lingerie - no need for it away from me, I guess.  It's all stored in the second drawer down of our bedroom chest of drawers.  I'm hoping to see her wear every item in there; I miss so much seeing them filled with her beautiful curvy frame.  I type this with them laid out around me, as I check each are ready for her to wear.  I thought I might describe some of them.

The dark red satin underwear she recently bought and wore the last time we had a really hot session.  I found the knickers under my bed about three weeks after she left; I could still smell her on them.  I used them to stroke my hard cock to climax that night I found them.  They feel so much more beautiful wrapped around her.

A crimson red cotton night slip, which I bought for her this summer.  Simple, beautifully cut just inches below her crotch, I remember pushing into her from behind as this hung around her waist.

The pure silk black Lejaby slip; my favourite item of hers.  Expensive, and it shows.  It has beautiful embroidery around her breasts, which are left unsupported by the fabric, and whose erect nipples display tantalisingly through the delicate black.  I bought it for her the last time she was away, as a birthday present when I visited.  Such vivid memories of her stood in front of me, with an innocent finger hanging from her mouth, clad in this sheer silk, looking drop dead stunning.

In contrast, a cheap bright red embroidered waspy, from a high street lingerie chain sale.  She's never worn it, I think she doesn't like it.  Frankly, I just want her to wear it with stockings and prance around the house in heels like a slut, so I can tear it off her.

A black silk top, that I can't remember if its lingerie or going-out wear.  Roushed waist, with broad black silk ribbons around it.  Also from the high street lingerie store, but way classier - the way she'd wear it anyway.

A black satin back-tieing soft corset.  I remember like it was yesterday coming home to find her asleep in bed, wearing this with a pair of black leather boots, with her own juices running down her legs.  She'd put it on, spent the evening masturbating, and left herself there for me to fuck when I came in the door.  She said at the time it was the sexiest she'd ever felt.  I can't argue with that.  That reminds me, I must get the boots out as well...

I love the way my angel dresses, and I love that I have such vivid memories of each one of these items.  I'm sure our Christmas 'experiences' will make many more x

A massage

It was early in the morning the other day and I was angling for some text sex with B as I usually am, and she said she couldn't play because she was going for a massage.  I snuggled back down into my duvet and fell back asleep, only to have the most vivid dream about her massage.

When I visited B in her country a few years ago, we went to her preferred massage venue together, and were treated by three young men who (I learnt as the evening went on) were absolutely besotted with her.  She's always been a very friendly girl, and this combined with the novelty of her speaking their language, and her radiant beauty and gorgeous Western body made her very attractive to these guys.  In fact I would go so far as to say she flirted with these guys, and at the time I found it a little bit irritating.  

So in my dream she was going back to this same massage place.  The three guys buzzed around her, performing the services she had paid for - foot massage, shins, thighs, back, neck - etc.  They worked on her for the best part of an hour, sending into a very relaxed spacious state, where her imagination thrived and she lost touch with where she was and what she was doing.  As two of the guys were working on a shin each, one of them looked up at her, eyes closed and in a dream state, and noticed up her skirt a beautiful damp patch blossoming from her underwear.  The sensuality of this massage was clearly proving too much for my angel B, and in her dream like state, she was allowing the physical pleasure to take hold.

The three guys were all quite young, probably an average of 17, but they were old enough to know what was going on.  At the same time though, they were professionals and tried to ignore the effect their work was clearly having on this beautiful hot white girl.  It became difficult to ignore though, as the wet patch spread and my B started to murmur her soft sexual moans.  She wasn't asleep exactly, but was in kind of that state you sometime find yourself on on the train home, where you confuse your surroundings for the comfort and safety of home.  

There was one guy in particular, of this trio, that B and her friends used to giggle like school girls at - he was the most forthright, and flirtatious, and B had joked that if it wasn't for me she'd be right in there with "massage boy".  He was also the one most clearly overwhelmed by the effect he was having on my girl, and had decided to try his luck.  He, on the left leg, decided to move his attentions up the shin, and onto the thigh.  B's towel and skirt were in the way, so he pushed them up slightly, so he could get better access to her warm flesh.  He proceeded to delicately and firmly massage her upper thigh, his eyes focussed the whole time on the damp patch on her white cotton underwear.  As he hoped, the white patch grew and grew.  As it did, B's breathing became shallower and shallower, and her heaving white chest raised and fell in the massage chair.

Gradually she awoke from her semi-sleep state, not really realising she had been asleep, and grateful to be in the safety of her massage parlour.  She looked down at the two boys working on her legs, and glanced across to see the third boy preparing something in the corner.  At that moment she realised the state of her body, and had a sudden short intake of breath.  The boys looked up at her, with small grins on their faces, trying to remain professional but quietly impressed with their achievements as men.  

The lead boy looked up at B, with an expression that indicated a burning desire to bury his face deep in that damp patch, tear white cotton out of the way with his teeth, and taste the fruits of his labour.  He wanted to lock the door of the massage chamber, and finally claim the prize of the hot white girl that he'd been working on all year.  To taste that heaving busom, and sink himself deep into the soft pink opening of her curvy hips.  He might let the other boys join in as well, see if the three of them couldn't whip her into a frenzy of desire like he'd seen happen on the Internet.  See if she, the older woman, could teach the three school boys a thing or two about life, and give them their first orgasms in such a unique way.  See what this figure of fantasy would look like with a cock inside her, a second in her mouth, and a third in her hands.  Three lustful boys, one desirous yet helpless western woman.

But B merely looked back at him, and asked in her best local dialect for a glass of water please.  The boy covered her up with the towel that was now almost hitched around her waist, and left the room, adjusting his trousers as he walked away.  The other boys felt it best to follow him, doing the same, and B corrected her clothing and set up straight.  There was a smirk on her face, a mixture of confusion and disorientation from her slumbers, of embarrassment and indignation, but with no shortage of minxiness and powerful satisfaction.