Sharon was a vision, lying sprawled akimbo on the bed, one arm behind her head on the pillow, the other draped across her body with the fingertips combing gently through the curls above her labia. Her hair, looking like she was fresh from a fuck, fanned out over her breasts with the nipples poking through. She was watching me with eyes dreamy and semi-focused as I poured us fresh glasses of champagne, the last in the bottle. I handed one to her, though I hated to take her fingers away from their toying.
The scent of the lilacs was still in the air, but fainter as the evening had cooled. I had noticed earlier with a certain note of regret that they were nearing the end of their run. I'd miss them. I crossed and closed the window a little, then came up at the foot of the bed where one of her legs was extended, straight and oh-so-shapely. Lifting it, I kissed her instep softly, sucked in a toe for a second, gave her a soft, wet nibble in the hollow of her ankle, then slowly climbed onto the bed, lavishing attention on her leg as I did, no easy task with a glass of champagne in my hand.
My slurp on the inside of her knee drew a soft giggle, but when she pulled away from it she spread her thighs a bit more, which was just fine with me. The skin of her inner thigh was so soft, so inviting, so delicately scented with her own perfume. Lightly suckling my way up was another subtle extension of the delirium of this night. I had imagined it so many times that the reality could have been less than the imagination, but instead I became more lightheaded the closer I came to those smoothly shaved, slightly parted lips. I kissed them gently, just barely brushed her inner labia with my tongue, lifting away as she rose to meet me.
I lifted up on an elbow, took the glass and poured a tiny bit into her navel, my finger laid over the edge to direct the stream. The champagne had been out for a while, so it was not very cold, but her skin sprang up into small goosebumps anyway. I leaned in and sucked it out, playing my tongue around inside for just a second, then began a line of soft kisses, sucks and nibbles down the flat of her stomach. There's just something about the way those subtle curves beckon downward, that has always made my head spin.
And then, here I was again, nuzzling my way through that soft auburn forest toward those silky smooth lips, the musky scent of our lovemaking flooding my senses. I gave her a soft kiss and suckle on her clitβshe arched slightly to meet itβthen lifted up and directed the tiniest stream I could manage right above it, watching it trickle down over her before I bent to lick it up with a long lick. A huge sigh escaped her lips, and I looked up to see if she was watching the monitors, but to my surprise she was lying back with her eyes closed just enjoying it. Good.
I poured another small stream right onto her clit, again lowering my head to lick it away, slipping my tongue as deep between her lips as I could manage as I savored the taste, the bouquet, the feel of her wet and warm around my tongue. Again, imagination paled in comparison with the reality. Licking up in a long stroke, catching her clit from underneath, I drew it in, sucked it in deep, gave a soft swirl around it with my tongue, and another, and a pause and another. Her sharp intake of breath told me all I needed to know, her hips rising to push herself against my mouth. I flickered my tongue back and forth, sliding slowly up and down so the flicks ascended and descended her clit, then sucked it in hard and swirled several times while she writhed gently beneath me.