My visit to Dianne on Lush revealed a smart, erotic lady showing her true self through a series of enticing, beautiful poses.
I was soon gorging on her many beautiful photos, dressed, undressed and provocatively positioned to arouse me.
My thoughts raced. Dianne in a satin blouse would be erotically explosive for me and feed my Satin blouse fetish! The only way was to ask her. I messaged her.
Dianne was swift to send blouse and sexy top images, responding that she had no satin or silk blouse to offer me.
I messaged to say there was no need to apologise. I revisited her seductive album and liked many of the pictures. I saved some for another visit.
After messaging to thank Dianne, I contented myself with her body-stirring offering. A couple of days later, fixated on her smile and poses, I paid her site another visit.
I was welcomed by a wonderfully stimulating, new, artistic, offering from this mature goddess.
There she was, posing sexily in a red satin blouse with billowing sleeves, unbuttoned to reveal her breasts poking through the luxurious fabric or simply exposing her entire breast from a side angle.
My manhood rapidly burst forth and stood to attention, as I knew these pictures were for me. It appeared as though her eyes were looking into mine and her lips were parted as though whispering to me,
“Come and stroke me and my blouse.”
I have to admit to indulging myself until releasing a healthy load and feeling the sexual tension relieved.
I messaged Dianne to thank her. Once again, she kindly responded. As though encouraging the fantasy, Dianne asked me to describe my thoughts and feelings when I saw her erotic poses.
I just admitted my climax and that I wished it had all been real. No response… oh dear.
Another couple of days passed and I searched her media again. There were new pictures of Dianne, in a white satin blouse. She was erotically posed, leaning forward to show her bare breasts, nipples stout, as they had caressed the soft satin.
A single finger was beckoning the viewer to come to her. I knew it was her signal to me. I was hard as granite and only another ejaculation helped, eventually, to reduce my size!
I messaged to thank Dianne again and boldly told her what she had done to me. This time a swift response entered my box.
‘It’s not healthy to only masturbate alone. You need to feel some satin and cum the proper way!’
I messaged to ask what she was intimating. Her messaged response suggested that I needed to feel her satin blouse and stroke her body to get the most pleasure.
First though, she would go and get into her part of this fantasy, by donning the red blouse, leaving our buttons open. My assignment was to imagine myself, right now, arriving at her home.
Using only my imagination, I took up the story and messaged my fantasy to Dianne.
Ok Dianne, we are now in the present and I know you are wearing your red satin blouse, sat at home. This story is how I would love our live interaction to happen…
As you open your front door, my eyes light up at the most beautiful sight of you in your luxurious red satin charmeuse blouse. As promised the four top buttons remain unfastened. As you lean forward with a welcome kiss, the satin of your billowing sleeve brushes my hand and sends a tingle through my body.
You notice my reaction, Dianne and raise your hand to my face before almost whispering,
“You really are a Satinman!”
The delicate, soft, satin of your sleeve caresses my cheek.
“Why don’t you just stroke my blouse yourself? It’s why you are here.”
My hand responds and my fingers touch the erotically charged fabric. My mind has taken charge and the back of my hand caresses your breast barely covered by the provocatively gaping blouse. Your nipple responds. It, too, loves the sensuality of the touch and the satin.
“Now I am lopsided! One nipple is poking through searching for further stimulation, while the other is yet to be welcomed.”
I happily now hold your other breast, squeezing the nipple between my fingers and satin, before running my hand along the length of the copious bosom.
You swiftly respond.
“I had no idea of the sensitivity of my nipples against satin. They are standing up like stalks.”
I can’t resist and push the beautiful, sexy satin away from one breast to see the engorged nipple for myself, as it stands out from your beautiful, bountiful bosom.
“Yes”
You respond with a heavy breath as your bosom rises and falls as you exhale.
I know you want me to take your super sensitive nipple into my mouth and first lick and then suck even lightly bite on the stalk, to keep It’s arousal.
I am now cupping the other breast and ensuring your nipples both share the experience.
As I stand up fully, you take me by the hand.
“I think you must take some pictures for the Lush Gallery! I will post them just for you – and everyone!”
You laugh.
We go through to your lounge for me to capture your hungry, erotic look.
The modern lounge boasts a long sofa, upon which you immediately lay, after rearranging the cushions. You point to the camera on a coffee table close to hand. I notice it is the latest digital camera, with a Zeiss lens. You see me admiring it.
“Only the best, if you are going to capture me glowing!”
You laugh out loud and I look up and begin rapidly clicking to capture the joyous moment.
You immediately raise your arm, placing your hand to the rear of your head. Your sleeve billows and the blouse buttons carry the soft charmeuse away from your nipple, as though to begin the descent of the mountain, after stimulating its deep pink peak.
What a glorious sight you present. Effortlessly, you move between erotic poses, like a professional model, as I continue to click the camera shutter, faster and faster. Occasionally, you squeeze and glide the satin over your ample bosom. Your wondrous nipples seem to burst forth to new lengths and your areola are fully engorged.
My mast is high and full and feels as though a flag could be raised on it.
You spot my discomfort.
“Wow! You need to let that out before it pulls your zip apart!”
As I look down, you are already off the couch and unbuckling my belt and unfastening my trousers, before pulling them down. Inadvertently, you pull down my underpants and my erect post stands proudly on display.
“That’s a good-looking chap! He needs some real attention!”
You let your billowing red satin blouse sleeve glide over my fully loaded missile launcher. It shakes and visibly throbs.
“You had better stop or there will be an accident!”
You take no notice.
Your left hand takes the button side of your shining blouse and you begin to glide the satin and buttons up my stiffness. My ball sack is aching and my cock quivering with the intensity of your shining charmeuse massage.
You are enjoying your obvious successful stimulation of my entire shaking body. When I look down, your right hand has disappeared into your own love chamber.
“I had no idea, that silky, satin could do this fo me. Put the video on, I want you to capture your explosion and my own orgasm in satin”.
I cannot believe what is happening to me!
“Dianne. You are the most erotic woman alive!”
You smile, knowingly.
Shakily, I focus the camera, looking down on your beauty and breasts. With the video rolling, I feel your soft tongue touch the very tip of my now throbbing cock. That was all it needed and my body shudders as missiles are launched.
“Sorry”
I splutter as the cream outpouring strikes both engorged nipple, wobbling bosom and the red satin of your soft blouse.
“Don’t be. Keep filming. I am cumming too”.
You roll back onto the sofa and I watch as you tense and quiver with orgasm and hear the squishing of your cum juices, wresting with your long fingers, still busily working both your chamber and now your clitoris. You are rubbing the three fastened buttons on the cuff of your billowing blouse sleeve against your clitoris.
I film until your quivering, arching body lays still.
“Fuck – some of my cum is on your floor!”
You just laugh.
“I think I will buy some more silky satin blouses!”
With my story now sent to Dianne, I wait with breath held.
There is a short pause. You message then hits my box: Wow. That’s hot. I am wet, ready to cum for real. How about you?
I message back: Too late, my love – thank you.
To Dianne for inspiring me.
