The nectar of Champagne was truly something that could only be appreciated in the depth of a lover's embrace. She was vibrant and yet her essence was reserved, a treasure to be sought after, as if it were buried in the depths of the ocean, in the cargo hold of a long abandoned vessel. As he strove to plunge his tongue into her steaming depths, he watched as the lean muscles of her torso writhed erotically to the stroking of his greatest asset, his tongue.
Long ago learning the techniques that would bring a woman to the brink of quivering orgasm and beyond, he knew she would not be able to resist for long, and, ever faithful to his teachers, his flawless technique brought her to a mind-numbing orgasm. Wrenching from her all that she had. She lifted her head looking down at him, heaving breasts atop flawless ribcage, and washboard abs, she strained to control her spasms to no avail, finally collapsing, as exhausted as if she had run several miles she reached for him.
This woman had invaded his heart and mind as had no other in years. Moving to her side as she reclined on the table he bent to kiss her. Head rolling back her lips opened to him in an invitation to claim her, and claim her he did.
His mouth closed over hers as she gasped for breath, then effortlessly, he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the bed in the corner of the room. The glow from the candlelight framing her in an ethereal aura, seen only by him. His strong arms encircled her as he drew her toward him, her legs opening and finding his way into her, in the most natural way, no guidance, perfect alignment he slipped into her and as she enveloped him, welcoming him into her presence.
