We have arranged a “date.” Arriving a few minutes late, with flowers and a chilled
bottle of Champagne – light, crisp dry, and delicious. You open the door a crack,
peek out, and then open the door wider. I nearly drop the Champagne. I know my
jaw dropped! You are clad in red from head to toe — well, at least what’s there is
red. Camisole, tap pants, stockings, and a sheer, nearly floor-length red negligée —
open down the front.
I am about to say something, when you beat me to it, welcoming me and inviting me
inside . . . Handing you the flowers, I reach into the pocket of my sports coat and pull
out the accompaniment for the Champagne: osetra caviar and little toasts
(crackers). Seeing the smile on your face ignites fireworks in my heart, and you take
the caviar from me and head into the kitchen for some plates. Meanwhile, I open the
Champagne with a soft “kiss” of the cork, and pour us each a glass . . .
We sit on your living room sofa – me feeling conspicuously overdressed – savoring
the salty “pop” of the sturgeon eggs and the light, tart effervescence of the
Champagne, as we idly chat about this and that . . . but there has been so much chat
preceding this evening, online, on the phone, that some of this is merely a way of
venting off the nervousness and anticipatory tension of a first face-to-face meeting,
something that we’ve longed to do for, my God, years!
I pick up the bottle from the ice bucket, carefully wiping the bottle dry with the
towel, and reach over to refill your glass. As I do, I feel your gaze . . . its warmth as
well as its intensity . . . finishing the refill, I stop and meet your gaze with my own —
looking into your eyes, and seeing the warmth, the openness, as well as the
smoldering passion within — and with the bottle of Champagne in one hand, I lean
closer, and our lips touch for the first time.
Briefly. Lightly. Barely a kiss at all, initially, but enough to break the ice and ignite
the spark, and I feel your hands around my neck, as our lips meet once again, and
my tongue slips inside your mouth — tasting you, exploring you — as our tongues
dance.
And when the kiss ends, we both feel — well, surprisingly breathless, and we both
lean back in the sofa practically catching our collective breath . . . it is as if that kiss
drained everything from us, in the same way an intense climax drains you. We sit
there. I take a sip of Champagne, and feel slightly revived, and turn to look at you.
You, too, have just taken a sip. We smile, and indeed laugh — practically giggling
like proverbial teenagers.
I set my own glass on the table, then reach over to you, and take your glass from
your hands, placing it next to mine. I hold your hands in mine. I look in your eyes,
and raise your fingers to my lips, softly kissing them one at a time. Then, I stand up,
and lift you to your feet, and lead you into the bedroom.
Once there, I wrap my arms around you, and kiss you once again, delicately at first,
then fully, deeply, with an intensity that has both of us melting into each other. I
move to kiss your cheek, your neck, and as I do, I move around you — kissing the
back of your neck as my hands move to your shoulders, caressing them, massaging
them. Standing behind you, I lean over to kiss the other side of your neck, and as I
do, I wrap my arms around your waist, pulling you back against me. I can feel you
pushing back, squirming, as my lips and tongue tease your neck. My hands move to
the tops of yours, and I kiss your sexy mouth once again . . .
I step away from you, slowly – the better to drink you in with my eyes, from head-totoe
. . . and as I step away, you sit on the edge of the bed, and lean back provocatively
— though it’s nothing intentional or overt. But the pent-up attraction we have felt
for one another for so long is palpable. We are both aroused and excited; we both
want each other, and have since long before I knocked on your front door.
You watch as I slip off my sports coat and toss it onto the chair. Your eyes flare as I
start to unbutton my shirt, peel it off, and toss it atop the coat. I step out of my
shoes. Your negligée has parted, and I can see the curve of your breast, the outline
of your nipple straining against the silky fabric of the camisole, as my hands move to
my belt – unbuckling it, and unbuttoning the fly on my faded Levi’s. I slowly slide
them, and my shorts, down my legs and step out of them. I stand there, naked, in
front of you, the full moonlight streaming through the windows. It’s your turn, and I
feel your eyes roaming, exploring my body – noting every curve, muscle, and my
(unconsciously) twitching cock. And as you look, your hand moves to caress your
breast – equally unconsciously . . . almost.
I take a step towards you, and you move farther back onto the bed. Instead of
having your legs dangling off the edge, you are now propped up on the pillows, your
stocking-clad legs and heels pointing towards me. Now you caress your breasts
with both hands, and smile when you see my cock twitch again – excited by the sight
of you, my right hand falls to my cock, encircles it, and I slowly begin to stroke
myself – aroused by the sight of you. You, in turn, seeing my engorged cock in my
hand, slip one hand beneath your tap pants, seeking out your swollen clit with your
fingertip.
The feeling is not one of masturbation, but of love-making. I am making love with
you, to you; it feels as though it’s my hand touching you . . . it’s your hand touching
me. And we stay right where we are. Transfixed. Aroused. Passionate.
Something happens, “wakes us up,” if you will, and we stop before we both cum –
thought that would have not only been easy, it would have been highly pleasurable
as well. I walk over to the edge of the bed, and sit down beside you. And we kiss
once again. It is a long, sweet kiss: developing slowly, growing in intensity and
passion, in depth as we embrace each other.
You slowly lean back, and I follow. You feel the weight of my body on top of you, as
your arms wrap around me, your fingers caressing my back. Our hips slowly begin
moving in rhythm, as we kiss, our tongues continuing their mutual exploration. We
part, and breathe deeply, as I once again move to your neck, and I hear you sigh as
my tongue teases your neck, my mouth lightly nibbling here, sucking there, teasing
your ear. I feel your grip on my back tighten, your hips rising up, grinding against
me. I roll off to the side of you, my lips pressing against your cheek. Propping
myself up on one elbow, I begin to trace little designs on your belly, between your
breasts, through your camisole. Smiling at you, gazing at you; you smile back,
through half-closed eyes – your erect nipples inviting me to . . . but I resist. For now.
As my fingertip continue to trace and tease, past your hips, down your thighs, and
back up again, as another soft, barely audible sigh escapes your lips.
You reach up and snake your arms around my neck, pulling me down on top of you,
as we kiss once again, this time, I close my hand over your left breast, gently
caressing, squeezing you, teasing and rubbing your hardened nipple . . .
A soft, barely audible moan escapes from your lips, and I move my hand to slide the
spaghetti strap off your shoulder and lower your camisole on one side to expose
your lovely breast. I just take a moment to, quite frankly, stare at your breast, your
nipple, and to savor the rising feeling of lust within me. I move to slip your right
strap from your shoulder, and pull your cami down so I can take delight in the sight
of you.
With my tongue, I trace a line upwards between your breasts, on top of your
breastbone, and then veer to your right, tracing an arc just above your soft, warm
flesh, and then down the side of your ribcage, only to slide underneath your breast
and back to your breastbone to complete the circle . . . only to repeat the design a
little closer . . . not really a circle but a spiral, and I continue to lick you ‘round and
‘round . . . ever closer, nearer to your hardening nipple (though I haven’t touched it
yet). You feel your pulse quicken, the fire in your belly burn hotter, the butterflies
within you taking flight. You gasp, then shudder, as an almost-electric shock flies
through you when – at last – my tongue flicks across your nipple. I swirl my tongue
around you, and then inhale sharply, as you feel a rush of cold air surrounding your
engorged nipple. Immediately, I gently exhale — bathing your breast in my warm
breath, and then, I kiss your nipple, and s-l-o-w-l-y draw you into my mouth, teasing
you, licking you, sucking you . . . I open my mouth wider and suck as much of your
breast into my mouth as I can, and then lift my head — your breast rises from your
chest, as if to come away with me, only to spill softly from my lips as I continue to
pull away from you and fall back gently against your chest.
I can see the soft, warm desire and pleasure in your half-closed eyes, and I start to
lick the flat of your chest once again — this time, moving to your left, and spiraling
in slowly, gradually on your other breast, to repeat the entire process.
You know those “oceans in a bottle”? Right now the tide has turned, and everything
is about you . . . I move up to kiss your lovely mouth once again, to taste, and explore
you. I move to your neck — kissing here, licking there — moving next to your
throat, your chest. Savoring the sensitivity of your nipples, and warmth of your soft
breasts, I move lower . . . down your belly . . . a little nibble here, a little sucking there
. . . until I am positioned in between your legs. I look up your delectable body and
see the passion in your eyes, the hunger. I inhale the sweet scent of your arousal,
and softly blow warm air over your clit. My lips are so close, you can “feel” them
even though I haven’t touched you . . . yet.
With my tongue, I part your labia just below your clit, and slide my tongue
downward — stopping just before the entrance to your pussy, which is already
moist, damp, and eager. I hear you sigh, and I reverse directions, and slowly travel
upwards, but stop before reaching your clit and reverse once again. Teasing you,
back-and-forth, because I want you to crave my tongue just as much as my tongue is
craving you. And as your frustration mounts, when you can’t stand it any more, I
slip my tongue inside your wet pussy – savoring the taste of you as I slowly slide my
tongue in and out of you . . .
You feel my tongue flick down over your ass, teasing you, and then up — between
your lips — and I swirl around your hardening clit. Once. And then slip inside you
once again, both delighting and frustrating you. Down, across your ass; up and
around your clit, and then inside you. This time, your hips rise up to meet my
tongue as I slide into you and push inside you as deeply as my tongue will go. I hear
you sigh, and run my tongue up and over your clit once again. Moving the tiniest
fraction of an inch away from you, I again inhale sharply and cold air surrounds you
— you gasp, and I suck you clit into my mouth, warming you, pleasing you, licking
you, teasing you, as you grab my hair and pull me closer as I tease you, lick you, suck
you . . . your hips begin to rock, grinding your pussy into me, as I slip one — then
two — fingers inside you, fucking you in rhythm to your moving hips as I lick and
suck your swollen clit.
I hear another moan emanate from somewhere deep within you, which only excites
me more, and as the fire within you burns brighter, hotter, you feel it spreading
through your chest, your arms and legs. That tension in your belly mounts, as my
tongue dances over you faster, and you feel my fingers moving faster within you as
the pace of your rocking hips quickens. You are so wet, you feel your juices trickling
down, over your ass, and then you feel a third finger pressing lightly against your
ass.
Wriggling against me, my ring finger slips inside you just a bit. Staying there. Not
moving. As I continue to lick, suck, and dance over your clit with my tongue. The
fire continues to burn; the tension continues to tighten. And you continue to move,
gyrating against me, my finger slowly works deeper inside your ass . . . moving in
and out of you gently, yet in rhythm to your hips, to my fingers inside your open
pussy.
You are moaning now, breathing deeply, one hand firmly in my hair holding me
tightly; the other, caressing, teasing, pinching your own nipples, while I continue to
lick, suck, devour your sweet cunt. I throw my leg over yours, and you are suddenly
aware of my cock — hard, erect, hot — grinding up and down against your calf as
my own hips are moving in harmony with yours. Your eyes flare, your heart
quickens as I continue to “fuck” your calf while my tongue and fingers are pleasing
you . . .
So close now, the pressure within you increases and you suddenly shift into high
gear as your hips begin rocking even faster, causing my fingers to surge within your
pussy deeper. My tongue dances faster, as I start to suck you harder, and I feel the
heat within your pussy increase, as you get even wetter, more open (were that
possible?).
God, I want to fuck you! But I won’t until you cum . . .
Teasing you, licking you, my first two fingers are moving in and out of your open
pussy whilst my third finger softly probes your ass. You can feel the butterflies in
your belly, as the tension right before release grows. You feel my cock — slick from
precum — slide up and down your calf, as my tongue continues to . . .
Suddenly the dam bursts, and that sweet searing hot wave of pleasure surges
through you as you cry out and your orgasm floods your body, writhing in ecstasy as
shockwaves continue to echo through your body. I continue to lick and suck you
until it’s just too intense and you pull me by the hair away from your sweet,
delicious pussy, that I love to eat so much . . .
Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/d1twmh/lingerie_champagne_mf
Fantastic