A hard choice

I walked to the nest of pillows in front of the fire and gently laid Sarah on the creamy rug in the firelight. She bent her knees; her feet flat on the floor. Her flat, firm abdomen was visible. Her mountainous breasts were rising and falling quickly with her breaths. She had been crying which quickened her breaths. Her long, thick hair was tied back with a silk scarf; tiny curly wisps circled her face. Her skin was glowing; her large, sad eyes seemed to look into my soul. She stretched her arms above her head. I love the way her breasts look when she lies like that.

I grabbed a pillow and put my chest on it, resting my chin only inches from her face. I reached out and gently stroked the curls that surrounded her face. I traced the outline of her nose and lips. She softly kissed the tip of my finger. I sat up and opened the champagne and poured a glass for each of us. Sarah sat up and took the glass, sipping the cool liquid slowly as she stared into the fire. She emptied her glass and looked at me questioningly. I poured another for each of us and spoke softly to her as she drank.

I explained to her that for the past week, I had thought over and over what it would be like to slowly strip her clothes away from her body as we prepared to make love. Not only did I want to actually remove her clothing, I wanted to describe to her how she excited my senses during the process. I wanted to give her details about what I saw, heard, felt, smelled, and tasted during this time. I thought it would be very erotic for her and that she would be able to better understand how she excited me. Her glass was empty, again. She turned to me and cooed, “I’m ready to be your dessert.” She handed me her glass and lowered herself onto the rug and waited for me to move.

I ran my hand over her abdomen and told her that I didn’t know what I wanted to see first, her pussy or her tits. I let my hand wander under the waistband of her shorts and thong, I described how I felt the rise of her mound. It was soft, yet hard at the same time; soft because she was completely shaved, but hard because of her arched pubic bone. I loved the way the tiny, satin front panel of her thong felt against my skin. I told her that I could see the outline of her lips against her shorts. I was sure they were puffy. “I’ve decided to start with your pussy, Sarah,” I growled in her ear.