José’s chest. Felicia supposed a sommelier also might not approve of the flavour combination of brut champagne and aroused male. But she did. José’s skin tasted good, very clean, but salty and a little musky, with an undertone of spice, and, leaving aside the way it made her own skin heat in empathy, it actually went well with the champagne.
They worked in towards the nipples, lapping there for much longer than the amount of champagne there warranted. At first, José was still and mostly quiet, trying to keep the puddle on his belly where it belonged.
That was no fun!
Felicia began to apply a little more suction, working with her tongue as she worked with lips and light pressure of her teeth. With a strangled noise, José put his hand on the back of her head. She thought for a second that he was trying to move her, but the pressure of his hand told the opposite: he wanted her harder.
Her peripheral vision told her that he’d done the same to Mel.
Oh. My. God.
Grabbing her hair like that made her clench and catch her breath – not the sensation in itself, but the unexpectedness of it. Rough directness from someone normally so gentle was exciting because it showed how much they were affecting him. And that, in turn, jacked up her arousal to a higher level.
Mel was the first to break off and begin kissing down his torso. This didn’t seem to help José’s level of coherence, especially when she began licking. Her pose was catlike, crouched on all fours like a lion at the watering hole, and Felicia found herself distracted from what she was doing by the visual feast. Mel’s pink tongue moved over the quivering muscles of José’s taut belly. She brushed her lovely little breasts against him, getting them champagne basted in the process. Mel was much paler than José, almost as fair as Felicia on her torso (no nude sunbathing for her evidently, or even bikinis) but her skin had the same golden undertones as José’s and her hair was a similar blue-black. It made for a gorgeous effect, stylised as some kind of tony erotic photography, but brought to earth by scents: sweet flowers, sharp, yeasty champagne and warm, aroused flesh.
For a bit, Felicia was mesmerised by the beautiful sight. She continued to suck and play with his nipples, feeling herself getting slicker and hotter in response to the sensory feast, but unwilling to risk breaking the spell by taking a more active role. But she could only resist for so long and soon a second lioness joined the first at the waterhole.
Unfortunately, another tongue lapping at his belly was too much for José’s self-control. He began to twitch, then to jerk around, laughing. ‘That tickles,’ he choked out.
They persisted until he threw them off. Flipping Mel over, he grabbed the bottle of champagne. She tried to squirm away, but José’s greater strength, and his weight on her legs, kept her pinned down. She was doing a good job of resisting for someone who clearly wanted to lose.
‘Help me out here!’ He handed the bottle to Felicia, then grabbed Mel’s wrists and pinned her to the bed.
Mel’s lovely skin looked even prettier with a champagne glaze. And, as Felicia quickly discovered, girl-skin and champagne tasted just as lovely together as boyskin and champagne, though subtly different, and tasting it sent similar waves of arousal crashing over her.
Mel stopped fighting as soon as their lips touched her. The giggling, though, went on for a while. Apparently, they’d got her to a point where she couldn’t stop, even as they suckled at her breasts and she arched against them, silently begging for more.
The giggling stopped when José opened her legs and poured champagne so it ran from her blue-black pubic curls and down, its sheen mingling with the slickness on her dark lips. (He’d put her own shirt under her bottom beforehand, not that the sheets could be saved.)
He licked. ‘Champagne and oysters!’ he said happily, then buried his face between
They worked in towards the nipples, lapping there for much longer than the amount of champagne there warranted. At first, José was still and mostly quiet, trying to keep the puddle on his belly where it belonged.
That was no fun!
Felicia began to apply a little more suction, working with her tongue as she worked with lips and light pressure of her teeth. With a strangled noise, José put his hand on the back of her head. She thought for a second that he was trying to move her, but the pressure of his hand told the opposite: he wanted her harder.
Her peripheral vision told her that he’d done the same to Mel.
Oh. My. God.
Grabbing her hair like that made her clench and catch her breath – not the sensation in itself, but the unexpectedness of it. Rough directness from someone normally so gentle was exciting because it showed how much they were affecting him. And that, in turn, jacked up her arousal to a higher level.
Mel was the first to break off and begin kissing down his torso. This didn’t seem to help José’s level of coherence, especially when she began licking. Her pose was catlike, crouched on all fours like a lion at the watering hole, and Felicia found herself distracted from what she was doing by the visual feast. Mel’s pink tongue moved over the quivering muscles of José’s taut belly. She brushed her lovely little breasts against him, getting them champagne basted in the process. Mel was much paler than José, almost as fair as Felicia on her torso (no nude sunbathing for her evidently, or even bikinis) but her skin had the same golden undertones as José’s and her hair was a similar blue-black. It made for a gorgeous effect, stylised as some kind of tony erotic photography, but brought to earth by scents: sweet flowers, sharp, yeasty champagne and warm, aroused flesh.
For a bit, Felicia was mesmerised by the beautiful sight. She continued to suck and play with his nipples, feeling herself getting slicker and hotter in response to the sensory feast, but unwilling to risk breaking the spell by taking a more active role. But she could only resist for so long and soon a second lioness joined the first at the waterhole.
Unfortunately, another tongue lapping at his belly was too much for José’s self-control. He began to twitch, then to jerk around, laughing. ‘That tickles,’ he choked out.
They persisted until he threw them off. Flipping Mel over, he grabbed the bottle of champagne. She tried to squirm away, but José’s greater strength, and his weight on her legs, kept her pinned down. She was doing a good job of resisting for someone who clearly wanted to lose.
‘Help me out here!’ He handed the bottle to Felicia, then grabbed Mel’s wrists and pinned her to the bed.
Mel’s lovely skin looked even prettier with a champagne glaze. And, as Felicia quickly discovered, girl-skin and champagne tasted just as lovely together as boyskin and champagne, though subtly different, and tasting it sent similar waves of arousal crashing over her.
Mel stopped fighting as soon as their lips touched her. The giggling, though, went on for a while. Apparently, they’d got her to a point where she couldn’t stop, even as they suckled at her breasts and she arched against them, silently begging for more.
The giggling stopped when José opened her legs and poured champagne so it ran from her blue-black pubic curls and down, its sheen mingling with the slickness on her dark lips. (He’d put her own shirt under her bottom beforehand, not that the sheets could be saved.)
He licked. ‘Champagne and oysters!’ he said happily, then buried his face between
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