Camille Dee
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Review by SUGARDADDYG, March, 2018
Camille opens the door for me, dressed in a short grey robe falling open to reveal not only the R2-D2-themed panties she has on beneath, but also plenty of opportunity to admire her delicious cleavage. But I spend only a moment indulging in her body, since as appealing as it is, it's always her eyes that truly fascinate me. They are as deep as the mountain canyons stretching out beyond the city, and more alluring than precious metal; brown and sparkling like flawless garnets. Eye contact with her is so intense I take only small doses; drawn in, but wary of becoming lost, like a child exploring something forbidden? I gaze into those eyes and break into an involuntary grin that surely looks ridiculous; she responds with her own smile, always a little shy on the surface, but enormously seductive to me. Of course I kiss her; there's very little I love doing more. Camille's kisses somehow remind me of playing a game. Not forceful, the squeezing together of mouths as if to scoop out tonsils with tongues; nor timid, reserved or tentative pecks. No, they are deliberate and playful, sometimes deeper, sometimes lighter, sometimes licking and nibbling on lips, sometimes chasing and catching and caressing tongues; always flirtatious, teasing, and hinting at more to come. Eventually I withdraw for long enough to comment on her underwear. I don't know why, exactly; complimenting her on the panties adorning her body makes every bit as much sense as pointing out that a compilation of Shakespeare has a pleasant cover, or that a Leonardo masterpiece is hung in an attractive frame. Really it's that I appreciate her thought and attention, and more so the explanation she reveals about the panties. With our faces separated while she describes them to me, I regain a view of more of her. I take in her hair, a darker brown this time, but its shade varies with the seasons. Glossy and straight at the top, cascading down her face to curl in a little at her shoulders as if to embrace her neck. And her magnificently prominent cheekbones, which when she smiles rise as gracefully as a bird taking flight. And her heavenly petite figure. She's shorter than me, so unless she's wearing particularly high heels I have to tilt my chin down to kiss her. When we're both standing, she's just the right height for her head to nestle naturally in the hollow in my neck and shoulder. We shortly enter her bedroom and sit on the bed. Sharing many more kisses--that goes without saying. My arms are around her, and she's straddling my legs. After more kisses still, I start to lean back and to pull her with me. "Not yet," she smiles as she chides me playfully. "I want to dance for you."