TXExpress
Literotica Guru
- Joined
- Oct 30, 2001
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Tex
"You are a treat for all the senses, my dear, but I like to save my dessert for last," I tell her, then quickly disappear into the kitchen, to her befuddlement, carrying the whipped cream can with me. Seconds later, a *pop* rings though the apartment.
When I re-emerge, I am carrying a bottle of chilled champagne, and two empty glasses. She smiles as I offer her a glass; I stare mesmerized at her naked beauty, but snap out long enough to pour each of us some of the bubbly.
She giggles, then sips hers until the glass is empty. She rests it on an end table. I do not sip mine, instead holding the stem of the glass and gently swirling the liquid within. I then take the contents into my mouth and rapidly plunge my head between her thighs, opening my mouth to let the cold champagne come in contact with her clit. The bubbles and tempeature send a surge through her body; her thighs close reflexively around my head; she gasps loudly.
My tongue lowers to the opening of her vagina, catching as much of the champagne as it can as my mouth forms suction around Lillie's already tasty pussy. Her juices already are flowing; they mingle with the sparkling wine for a doubly intoxicating concoction that I drink eagerly. My tongue continues its assault, the flat part moving vertically up her opening, the tip flicking at her clit. I suck the clit between my lips and take it lightly between my teeth, holding it there for my tongue to play with. She is writhing, her back arching, her hips circling in rhythm to music from her heart.
My hands, not wanting to neglect her beautiful breasts, begin to rub softly on the delicate undersides, teasing at but not touching the nipples already hard with excitement. I cup and squeeze them; I massage them fully and firmly. All the while, my tongue lapping greedily at her clit and sampling her flowing juices.
Her moans and gasps tell me she is on the verge of orgasm, so I concentrate the tip of my tongue on her clit and, as she begins to strain, the thumb and forefinger of each hand clasp hard upon her nipples.
Her cry rings through the apartment. Her hands grasp wildly at my hair. Her thighs clench hard. Her juices rush into my mouth; I drink them as if they were the finest champagne.
Which, in a sense, they are.
"You are a treat for all the senses, my dear, but I like to save my dessert for last," I tell her, then quickly disappear into the kitchen, to her befuddlement, carrying the whipped cream can with me. Seconds later, a *pop* rings though the apartment.
When I re-emerge, I am carrying a bottle of chilled champagne, and two empty glasses. She smiles as I offer her a glass; I stare mesmerized at her naked beauty, but snap out long enough to pour each of us some of the bubbly.
She giggles, then sips hers until the glass is empty. She rests it on an end table. I do not sip mine, instead holding the stem of the glass and gently swirling the liquid within. I then take the contents into my mouth and rapidly plunge my head between her thighs, opening my mouth to let the cold champagne come in contact with her clit. The bubbles and tempeature send a surge through her body; her thighs close reflexively around my head; she gasps loudly.
My tongue lowers to the opening of her vagina, catching as much of the champagne as it can as my mouth forms suction around Lillie's already tasty pussy. Her juices already are flowing; they mingle with the sparkling wine for a doubly intoxicating concoction that I drink eagerly. My tongue continues its assault, the flat part moving vertically up her opening, the tip flicking at her clit. I suck the clit between my lips and take it lightly between my teeth, holding it there for my tongue to play with. She is writhing, her back arching, her hips circling in rhythm to music from her heart.
My hands, not wanting to neglect her beautiful breasts, begin to rub softly on the delicate undersides, teasing at but not touching the nipples already hard with excitement. I cup and squeeze them; I massage them fully and firmly. All the while, my tongue lapping greedily at her clit and sampling her flowing juices.
Her moans and gasps tell me she is on the verge of orgasm, so I concentrate the tip of my tongue on her clit and, as she begins to strain, the thumb and forefinger of each hand clasp hard upon her nipples.
Her cry rings through the apartment. Her hands grasp wildly at my hair. Her thighs clench hard. Her juices rush into my mouth; I drink them as if they were the finest champagne.
Which, in a sense, they are.
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