Victoria’s Secret

Her name was Victoria and she had a secret

It came in the form of questions

Of which I, at that moment, unceremoniously bore the answer:

To guess if she had on any bra under her shirt

And if right, were her nipples hard or relaxed

She wrapped a blindfold around my eyes

All I had of her presence was her perfume: Coco Chanel

She proffered my hand and laid it on her thigh

Come on, big boy,” she teased. “I’m waiting.”

Sultry lips coated with lipstick

Her hand stole onto my crotch

I was hard: I wanted her so bad.

We were in her home, in her bedroom on Lenox Avenue

The wind from the lake ruffled the curtains

Her husband was out of town

The neighbours might have seen us together

Noisy bastard, except she didn’t care

My hands roamed past her thigh to grasped her rump

She chortled. “Warmer,” she cooed

Under her shirt they slipped

I gasped at the feel of her naked skin

Exquisite

I cupped her tits

Naked; her nipples hard and excited

She laughed and flung off her shirt

She sat on my lap and loosened my blindfold

Now, my secret is yours,” she murmured,

Sealing my lips with a kiss.

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