nudes-des-artiste in topic Lesbian Lounge
Dressed to the nines, smelling like heaven (in this case, Perfect 10 Perfume), feeling like she was there too, Christina knocked on the door of Bungalow Number 3.
The door opened.
Christina stepped in to what could have only been a dream under any other circumstances.
Angella was dressed only in a black satin kimono-type bathrobe. All around the room were dozens and dozens of candles, and no other light.
In the middle of the room was a low, small table, set with white linen, and on it, two plates with deep dishes, split-open lobsters that must have weighed two pounds or more each, and two bottles of Louis Roederer Cristal Champagne and two glasses filled with it. A single deep red rose in full bloom sat between the plates, and beside each, a red candle gleaming. The six-speaker sound-system was gently playing the most beautiful, romantic music she had ever heard…Spanish New Age, it seemed, with violins, synthesizers, a cello, and the most soft-voiced woman singing words she could only imagine the meaning of.
“Oh my god,” Christina breathed.
Angella smiled, sauntering back to one side of the table, low enough that only cushions were needed to settle down on.
“Sweetheart,” she said, “why don’t you go into the bathroom. There is another robe. You’ll be more comfortable.”
As if in a dream Christina went to the bathroom, stripped naked and put on a white satin kimono, and nothing else. She almost stumbled back out to take her seat in her cushions across from…from…the most beautiful woman who had ever existed. If that was an exaggeration in any way, it didn’t feel like that to Christina right now.
Angella picked up her glass, and said, “To you, my princess.”
Christina picked her glass up and clinked it and just stammered, “Thanks.”
They ate then, and talked. And drank. The lobsters were so huge that neither of them could finish them, though they were perfect and tender, smothered in so much European lemon-butter that they were almost drowned in it. They laughed, they smiled. The sound of the gentle ocean waves came in from the open deck door, and the sweet smell of it too, mixing with their smells, the smell of the food, and their perfumes.
One bottle of Roederer down, the second one opened, they finished the lobster, and Angella took Christina by the hand to the deck. There, clasped both hand-in-hand, and hand-across-waist, they watched the little crisp white tips of quiet waves roll blue-ly beneath the floodlights of the resort, and beneath the gentle silver cascading light of the crescent-moon. In the sky, in addition to the sweet sliver-of-moon, a perfect starscape watched down on them and seemed to smile.
And Angella leaned over to Christina’s face, and those two lips caught each other, just so tender and small at first. Christina’s heart, pussy and body had long since melted under the constant warmth, sweetness, and beauty of her host. So this kiss did not catch electric fire. That fire had long ago been lit, and this kiss was just kindling, just the best fuel.
And the kiss went on and on. Christina never even thought to stop it, or to move her hands anywhere, or to do any of the things she normally would have when a girl like this was within her reach. She did nothing. Oh, her lips were not passive…every supple kiss, every slip of the tongue, Christina responded to in kind, and she launched her own. In Angella’s mouth, Christina had somehow found her home, at least for now. If the entire world ended during that long, long kiss, Christina felt that would be OK. This was…the best kiss…the best moment in all her life.
But Angella was not to let it just remain a moment frozen in time. She let it freeze for probably thirty minutes or more, which was still an epically long kiss, but then Angella’s hands went down to grasp Christina’s butt cheeks. Her kisses got hungrier. Christina could take a hint…and she responded.
Each wrapped a bare thigh around the other as the clasped each other and that perfect romantic kiss became the realm of high heat and massive lust.
Angella did it first. In the shimmering moonlight of the Cayman sky, she just pulled the robe down off of Christina’s shoulders, exposing her bare breasts.
“My God,” Angella breathed, and she didn’t stop for any other observations. Her mouth found those large, full nipples like she had been built to have them in her mouth. Her other hand came around and grasped the other miracle-of-God’s manufacture, and she hungrily and greedily switched between each breast like she was going crazy, and wanted somehow to try to fit those gigantic, perfect swells into her mouth, in their entirety, at the same time. Angella’s lips and tongue did not just cover the perfect nipples, no, they made sure to cover every inch of the sizable area of Christina’s perfect breasts. Christina had felt this kind of hunger for her chest before…but never so well executed, and never from…never from….never…from….
But the lips chose not to stop there. Angella, for all that desire, seemed to have a higher level of desire for…what was lower.
She pushed Christina against the railing of the deck, so that Christina’s back was to the now deep-blue-sea. And she ripped open the kimono, and tore it off. Christina’s perfect nakedness was now bare to the elements, to the Gods of the Sea and Sky, to the Moon in its infinite wisdom, and to the ministrations of this unbearably hungry woman before her.
When the lips of Angella…the lips that could surely have launched a million ships if Helen of Troy had launched a mere thousand…the lips that every man on Earth, and every even slightly flexible woman…the lips that all by themselves seemed to be proof of God…when those lips met Christina’s pussy…it was, in an instant, over, and just begun.
She experienced in that first pussy-kiss one of her own very rare equivalents to male “premature ejaculation”. Christina came just from having those lips touch her! The touch was so electric, so powerful, and right now, in this moment, meant so much, that she just unashamedly shuddered and shook and shouted from the sweet perfect upper lips of Angella doing nothing but surrounding her lower-lips.
Angella didn’t care. She waited for the shuddering to subside, kissing Christina’s inner thighs while it lasted, then she just returned to what she wanted. Which was, with fervor, to feast on Christina’s pussy, in a pussy-hunger that Christina knew herself, but could not imagine ever that Angella would have, let alone, have for Christina’s pussy.
But, thankfully, here, under the immaculate Cayman moon, there was nothing to separate such hungers. Angella’s tongue drove into Christina’s pussy like there was treasure buried there, her mouth suckled in her labia minora as if they were honeysuckle flowers, her whole mouth surrounded and inhaled Christina’s entire Mons as if by trying to bring the whole of it into her mouth, it would somehow flow down into her soul. And perhaps, then, as Angella’s entire mouth was locked in a suction-vice around Christina’s entire pussy…maybe it was just then, if it hadn’t been before, that indeed Christina felt her entire soul get sucked into Angella’s. Not Angella’s mouth. The mouth is just a vehicle for the soul. And Christina’s had now become, for what it was worth or what it meant, one with this perfect woman who had chosen her on just this night.
Christina’s orgasm then was, to say the least, cosmic.
There are many kinds of orgasms.
There are the quickies, the masturbatory, the G-spot, the vaginal, the deep-vaginal, the anal, the multiple, the supper-shudder, the unexpected, the transitory, the partial pass-out, and the rare Epic. Oh, and the nearly-never-felt-but-once-in-a-lifetime-by-anyone, Beyond-Epic. Christina had only heard rumors of that last one. She’d worked tons though on trying to find it!
This one, this orgasm, from Angella’s mouth sucking Christina’s whole pussy in, while Angella’s tongue danced a river-dance over-across-and-under Christina’s clit while the Cayman moon sparkled down on tem both…that brought on the rare and nearly unheard of Epic Orgasm in Christina. Not quite Beyond-Epic, but it was the best orgasm she’d ever had.
The voice she yelled out in was not one she could ever have duplicated or faked. Christina howled into the moon as if the moon were her lover, her rhythmic pulsing sounds from her throat not guttural at all like many orgasm noises. No, somehow…this was like music. Night music. Like the baying of millions of wolves all across the world, to the same symphony of beats.
Only Angella’s strong hands on Christina’s hips, and Christina’s own hands, as shaky as they were, on the balcony, kept her form just collapsing.
When the howling ended, Angella came up and said, “Well, if nothing else, that was the most beautiful orgasm I have ever heard...”
Extracted from A Day and a Night in The Sun by ameliedelacroix on Literotica.com
#lesbian #erotica #literotica #titsucking #nicetits
The door opened.
Christina stepped in to what could have only been a dream under any other circumstances.
Angella was dressed only in a black satin kimono-type bathrobe. All around the room were dozens and dozens of candles, and no other light.
In the middle of the room was a low, small table, set with white linen, and on it, two plates with deep dishes, split-open lobsters that must have weighed two pounds or more each, and two bottles of Louis Roederer Cristal Champagne and two glasses filled with it. A single deep red rose in full bloom sat between the plates, and beside each, a red candle gleaming. The six-speaker sound-system was gently playing the most beautiful, romantic music she had ever heard…Spanish New Age, it seemed, with violins, synthesizers, a cello, and the most soft-voiced woman singing words she could only imagine the meaning of.
“Oh my god,” Christina breathed.
Angella smiled, sauntering back to one side of the table, low enough that only cushions were needed to settle down on.
“Sweetheart,” she said, “why don’t you go into the bathroom. There is another robe. You’ll be more comfortable.”
As if in a dream Christina went to the bathroom, stripped naked and put on a white satin kimono, and nothing else. She almost stumbled back out to take her seat in her cushions across from…from…the most beautiful woman who had ever existed. If that was an exaggeration in any way, it didn’t feel like that to Christina right now.
Angella picked up her glass, and said, “To you, my princess.”
Christina picked her glass up and clinked it and just stammered, “Thanks.”
They ate then, and talked. And drank. The lobsters were so huge that neither of them could finish them, though they were perfect and tender, smothered in so much European lemon-butter that they were almost drowned in it. They laughed, they smiled. The sound of the gentle ocean waves came in from the open deck door, and the sweet smell of it too, mixing with their smells, the smell of the food, and their perfumes.
One bottle of Roederer down, the second one opened, they finished the lobster, and Angella took Christina by the hand to the deck. There, clasped both hand-in-hand, and hand-across-waist, they watched the little crisp white tips of quiet waves roll blue-ly beneath the floodlights of the resort, and beneath the gentle silver cascading light of the crescent-moon. In the sky, in addition to the sweet sliver-of-moon, a perfect starscape watched down on them and seemed to smile.
And Angella leaned over to Christina’s face, and those two lips caught each other, just so tender and small at first. Christina’s heart, pussy and body had long since melted under the constant warmth, sweetness, and beauty of her host. So this kiss did not catch electric fire. That fire had long ago been lit, and this kiss was just kindling, just the best fuel.
And the kiss went on and on. Christina never even thought to stop it, or to move her hands anywhere, or to do any of the things she normally would have when a girl like this was within her reach. She did nothing. Oh, her lips were not passive…every supple kiss, every slip of the tongue, Christina responded to in kind, and she launched her own. In Angella’s mouth, Christina had somehow found her home, at least for now. If the entire world ended during that long, long kiss, Christina felt that would be OK. This was…the best kiss…the best moment in all her life.
But Angella was not to let it just remain a moment frozen in time. She let it freeze for probably thirty minutes or more, which was still an epically long kiss, but then Angella’s hands went down to grasp Christina’s butt cheeks. Her kisses got hungrier. Christina could take a hint…and she responded.
Each wrapped a bare thigh around the other as the clasped each other and that perfect romantic kiss became the realm of high heat and massive lust.
Angella did it first. In the shimmering moonlight of the Cayman sky, she just pulled the robe down off of Christina’s shoulders, exposing her bare breasts.
“My God,” Angella breathed, and she didn’t stop for any other observations. Her mouth found those large, full nipples like she had been built to have them in her mouth. Her other hand came around and grasped the other miracle-of-God’s manufacture, and she hungrily and greedily switched between each breast like she was going crazy, and wanted somehow to try to fit those gigantic, perfect swells into her mouth, in their entirety, at the same time. Angella’s lips and tongue did not just cover the perfect nipples, no, they made sure to cover every inch of the sizable area of Christina’s perfect breasts. Christina had felt this kind of hunger for her chest before…but never so well executed, and never from…never from….never…from….
But the lips chose not to stop there. Angella, for all that desire, seemed to have a higher level of desire for…what was lower.
She pushed Christina against the railing of the deck, so that Christina’s back was to the now deep-blue-sea. And she ripped open the kimono, and tore it off. Christina’s perfect nakedness was now bare to the elements, to the Gods of the Sea and Sky, to the Moon in its infinite wisdom, and to the ministrations of this unbearably hungry woman before her.
When the lips of Angella…the lips that could surely have launched a million ships if Helen of Troy had launched a mere thousand…the lips that every man on Earth, and every even slightly flexible woman…the lips that all by themselves seemed to be proof of God…when those lips met Christina’s pussy…it was, in an instant, over, and just begun.
She experienced in that first pussy-kiss one of her own very rare equivalents to male “premature ejaculation”. Christina came just from having those lips touch her! The touch was so electric, so powerful, and right now, in this moment, meant so much, that she just unashamedly shuddered and shook and shouted from the sweet perfect upper lips of Angella doing nothing but surrounding her lower-lips.
Angella didn’t care. She waited for the shuddering to subside, kissing Christina’s inner thighs while it lasted, then she just returned to what she wanted. Which was, with fervor, to feast on Christina’s pussy, in a pussy-hunger that Christina knew herself, but could not imagine ever that Angella would have, let alone, have for Christina’s pussy.
But, thankfully, here, under the immaculate Cayman moon, there was nothing to separate such hungers. Angella’s tongue drove into Christina’s pussy like there was treasure buried there, her mouth suckled in her labia minora as if they were honeysuckle flowers, her whole mouth surrounded and inhaled Christina’s entire Mons as if by trying to bring the whole of it into her mouth, it would somehow flow down into her soul. And perhaps, then, as Angella’s entire mouth was locked in a suction-vice around Christina’s entire pussy…maybe it was just then, if it hadn’t been before, that indeed Christina felt her entire soul get sucked into Angella’s. Not Angella’s mouth. The mouth is just a vehicle for the soul. And Christina’s had now become, for what it was worth or what it meant, one with this perfect woman who had chosen her on just this night.
Christina’s orgasm then was, to say the least, cosmic.
There are many kinds of orgasms.
There are the quickies, the masturbatory, the G-spot, the vaginal, the deep-vaginal, the anal, the multiple, the supper-shudder, the unexpected, the transitory, the partial pass-out, and the rare Epic. Oh, and the nearly-never-felt-but-once-in-a-lifetime-by-anyone, Beyond-Epic. Christina had only heard rumors of that last one. She’d worked tons though on trying to find it!
This one, this orgasm, from Angella’s mouth sucking Christina’s whole pussy in, while Angella’s tongue danced a river-dance over-across-and-under Christina’s clit while the Cayman moon sparkled down on tem both…that brought on the rare and nearly unheard of Epic Orgasm in Christina. Not quite Beyond-Epic, but it was the best orgasm she’d ever had.
The voice she yelled out in was not one she could ever have duplicated or faked. Christina howled into the moon as if the moon were her lover, her rhythmic pulsing sounds from her throat not guttural at all like many orgasm noises. No, somehow…this was like music. Night music. Like the baying of millions of wolves all across the world, to the same symphony of beats.
Only Angella’s strong hands on Christina’s hips, and Christina’s own hands, as shaky as they were, on the balcony, kept her form just collapsing.
When the howling ended, Angella came up and said, “Well, if nothing else, that was the most beautiful orgasm I have ever heard...”
Extracted from A Day and a Night in The Sun by ameliedelacroix on Literotica.com
#lesbian #erotica #literotica #titsucking #nicetits
