Indian Girl Showing Her Pantyless Body

Just like waking from siesta, when it was over it was over. She stopped. Refreshed herself from the bar, grabbed her shawl. Was gone.Out into dying heat and falling light. Across cobbles and into the back of a tram. Black bodice; purple voile; dark legs, the shawl wrapped around her head as if in confession. A sense of urgency. The end of the tram line met with a cable car, caught high on steel wire, swinging in growing breezes. Open, exposed, a frail bar to hold her, she got in, artfully matching its constant movement. She faced mountainside knowing he would follow her. The air grew colder, drying the dancer'sweat. Land fell beneath as city edges began to show. The once towering omnipresent encompassing outstretched arms of Christ grew smaller and more human as Claudia soared. At the tree-line half way point she got out.She crept into the forest, years of leaves providing carpet beneath her feet. The scent of Mama's furniture polish as the wind intensified. The well worn path that. I pick up the first item, a white feather. I hold it in front of my eyes, the candlelight permeating through the almost microscopic filaments. I lean forward and let the fine tip of the feather gently stroke the back of your ankle. You tense a little, knowing contact has been made and my game has started. I slowly run the feather up and down the length of your leg. As the feather reaches the back of your knee you start to squirm and then up the inside of your thigh. The touch of the feather is both pleasurable and excruciatingly intense in its lightness. The anticipation of where it will stroke next wakes up every nerve-ending in your body. All you can hear is your own breath, gasping each time the feather touches. I occasionally break contact, changing where the feather touches next, keeping you guessing; increasing your anticipation. You wriggle a little as I run the feather along the bottom of each buttock, raising your bum in the air as you become aroused.I step away from the end.
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