Passion Ignited In The Shadows Of The Ballet My desire and lust for Mina rages for her constantly, she knows that. My cock aches for her in shades of flushing red and darkest blue. I told her, I would be here tonight; I've enjoyed the ballet. She half hoped I wouldn't be there. But I was. She wondered, do you mean your lust led you here (and tell the truth, you didn't put up much of a fight did you?) or do you mean only your death could have prevented your presence tonight? She wondered. We are seated in our private box in the balcony area of the theater. I lean over to kiss her, she turns away from me, my breath is on her neck now, and she shuns me. In the interval she made no move to pull me away, no, then I gripped her arm, too tight, hurting her, and pulled her into the small bathroom at the back of the box. Once inside, I don't touch her, I deliberately don't touch her, She knows the effect of my energy, my body heat, has on her; I simply walk forward, slowly, forcing her to back up until she is pressed against the large mirror, cold glass a cruel antidote to my hot breath. She can't fight, and she wouldn't want to. She unzips her dress of her own accord. It falls to the floor. She is wearing a black lace lace-up bodice, thigh-high hold-up stockings complete with Cuban heels. I bend, kneeling before her. My fingers trace a path up the backs of her legs, along the seam of her stockings, my mouth searing a secondary path upwards along the inside of her thigh as her legs open for me. My mouth arrives at her wet pussy and her fingers dig into my shoulders, wanting to guide me forward, but I don't move. …the next moment changed everything
