Ron Coleson parked his car outside his apartment and sat still for a moment in the driver’s seat. He had an exam coming up later this week, and study was the order of the evening. Luckily, he’d managed to land a 3D design class that would make things much easier for his career plans.
He looked up at the windows of his apartment and smiled. Of course, the main enhancement to – and main obstacle to – his fulfillment of those plans, was waiting for him upstairs. He crossed the driveway and went in the breezeway, climbed the stairs and pulled out his key, opened the lock, pushed open the door.
The music was the first thing he heard. Almost immediately, he knew…he was in for a major diversion from his homework. The next thing he noticed, as he pushed the door shut, was the scent. Sandalwood incense gently filled the entire apartment. There was no mistaking it. His arrival had been prepared for…he was awaited.
He set down the small briefcase and looked around. The main room was empty. This particular apartment had been chosen by him for its roominess – there were plenty of places to explore, but he figured the bedroom would be the very first and best choice.He stopped at the doorway and smiled. A beaded curtain hung there – part of the new mood of the room. He parted the beads quietly with one hand, stepped through.
Melanie had arranged the room like an Ottoman Sultan’s fantasy harem. The ‘bed’ was a futon on the floor, covered with scattered cushions all over the place, some in heaps and piles, some distributed randomly over near the low divan against the far wall. The music came from here…quiet and hypnotic, and with definite middle-eastern overtones. He found Mel immediately – she was on the bed, cushions gathered about her, and she was asleep.
She’d probably only gotten back from the college herself an hour ago. She’d been up late last night cramming for an Architectural Design exam (she was in the middle of her third Trimester,) and had figured a nap would be the solution to the sleep deprivation she’d had to go through. She was on her back…her lacy-edged crop-top riding up past the sharp curves of her ribs, and her shorts had been left unbuttoned and partially unzipped…leaving the most delicious looking expanse of smooth belly, her stretched almond navel the perfect center of a gently rising and falling patch of utter delight. She’d obviously had him in mind.
He quietly came over to the bed, dropped down onto the cushions, and leaned over her belly. Inches above her, now, he could smell the distinct aroma of peaches and cream coming from her tummy – the body wash she used when showering. Her lithe tummy sank in deeply as she exhaled in her sleep, the arch of the ribs above accentuating the concavity of her gorgeous belly, her navel slightly stretched.
He lowered his head, put his lips gently to her navel, and rode upward with her belly as she inhaled…his tongue tasting the utter glory of the rim of her navel, then gently dipping into the depths of her, savoring the taste of peaches and something warmer and sweeter.
In her sleep, she felt the caress of lips and tongue, moaned softly, and stretched…her arms going up above her head, her legs crossing, her belly stretching out and sinking into a deeper concavity, her navel stretching into a tight slit. Ron lifted his head and watched the glorious spectacle, feeling such love and desire in his heart that he could barely breathe. Her eyes opened and she smiled at him.
“I was waiting for you,” she said, “but I got so tired…I had to sleep.”
“That’s okay,” he said. “It was the perfect greeting.”
She smiled again, and exhaled deliberately…and her belly sank in…in…a deep well, curving down from high arched ribs to jutting hip bones…Ron shivered in deep excitement.
She looked up at him, reached up, stroked his cheek…then put a hand to his neck.
“Come here,” she said simply.
The kiss was absolutely exquisite, and Ron knew that, unless she showed him some mercy, which didn’t seem likely, he was done for the day with any studying he had planned.
She was still moving, and expertly transposed their bodies, rolling him back down under her onto the futon, burying him back amidst the cushions…and her hands worked carefully and surely, opening and dislodging, removing his clothes with expertise and relentless intent.
She looked into his eyes as she slid his pants off him.
“I want to see you completely,” she said, smiling gently and kissing first one eyebrow, then the other. “I want to see your every reaction.” She tossed the last of his clothes aside, then pushed up and off of the cushions, stepped over to the curtain and through it, leaving the beads swinging and clattering gently.
“I’ll be right back!” she called. “You don’t move!”
He waited, and even without her presence, he felt the excitement building inside him. Though the wait seemed forever, he knew it was only a few minutes. The curtain parted again and she stepped through into the room…and his heart jumped.
She had chosen a gold swagged belt, dripping with coins, and the gauzy harem pants that still showed her bare legs dimly through the sheer fabric. Her feet were bare, but above the low belt line, inches below her navel, the real show began: A bright gem gleamed, deeply buried in her navel….and above…she had chosen not to wear a top, but the nipples were covered by golden pasties, leaving her lovely breasts naked, their soft curves rising up off her chest gloriously……and her hips began to work, rocking slowly in time to the slow, sensuous music, as she slowly approached him…the right hip coming up gently, the belly bending and curving inward at the bottom, then a slow, rippling wave riding upward from the gold belt as her belly did an agonizingly slow undulation…the pangs of birth, translated into exquisitely torturous and languorous motion, now a sensual writhing of desire.
Now the reason for the choice of the slow, sleepy music revealed itself, as she drew closer, step by step, her hips slowly rocking in a complex figure 8, her navel pitching and yawing, her belly curving, stretching, contracting and then dipping inward in that maddeningly slow wave…now beginning at the lower pelvis and proceeding up her belly, the navel like a tiny boat dipping down into, then riding up upon, the crest of that glorious wave of tanned flesh…the wave proceeding up to crest at the shoreline of the arch of her ribs…then an echoing wave, beginning there, and moving down the belly to her hips again. It was the most brazenly delicious sight he’d ever seen in his life, and his body responded immediately.
She’d practiced that move, more than any of the others in her belly-dancing class, because it not only gave her stomach muscles the most intense workout of any of the dance movements, but it also did something completely wonderful inside her…and this other benefit was now about to be demonstrated.
Still moving in time to the music, the belly still pitching and yawing slowly and sleepily to the slow drumbeats and languid string melodies, she put a knee on the bed and settled her weight there, hands up and behind her head, breasts gently swaying and bobbing in a counterpoint to the rhythm rocking her hips, and came toward him on her knees, not missing a beat as she straddled his hips, belly gently rocking now, right before his face, and she slowly settled herself down on his hips, gently impaling herself on his now-rampant manhood…and uttering a completely delicious sigh that blended into a soft moan as he felt her slippery inner walls engulf…and then moistly grip…the shaft of his manhood.
And then…she began a second set of motions, her knees flexing and relaxing, as her belly rocked, curled and twisted mere inches before his face, her beautiful breasts directly over his face, while deep inside her belly, inner muscles worked and flexed…gripped him, stroked him, relaxed, gripped again, squeezed…and the most exquisite sensations caressed him, deep in the depths of her innermost belly…and he felt himself growing harder inside her…wondering if he might not actually touch the inside of her very navel, deep within her belly.