His gloved hands move to the shirt.  Popping off each button in turn, deliberately, the shirt revealing a bit more of his alabaster skin with each lost button.  Then the shirt open at last, slide back with a shrug of his shoulders, down but not off, pooled at his bent elbows.  His black-clad hands slide across his skin, caressing, the black latex showing off the pale perfection of his flesh.  Then the hands make their way to the fastening of his pants, the zipper descending, just a bare tease of what lays underneath before he twists away again, back to her.  He flexes his arms again, effortlessly bringing the shirt back up onto his shoulders, and turns, side on, and drops to the floor in a fluid motion, catching himself on his hands.  He begins a drag/crawl, his arms pulling him across the floor, his head moving from side to side, flashes of his bare chest as he moves.  It's soon obvious what he is doing...the friction of the floor, combined with his superb muscular control, is shimmying down the pants inch by inch.  The long shirt covers him enough that only the occasional glimpse of pale hip is seen as he moves, then finally his legs, til he's shed the pants like a snake shedding its skin.  He turns again, back to her, legs pulled under him as he kneels, and he removes the blindfold at last.  Blue eyes stare intently at her as he shugs his shoulders yet again, the red silk sliding off, fluttering the last few inches to the floor, bare back and ass suddenly revealed.  His hands stroke down his front as he turns, the black gloves cupped, the only things preventing his cock from being revealed as he kneels, rubbing the gloved hands up and down his length, managing to keep from ever showing exactly what is underneath even as he gives the impression of masturbating for her.