Palazzo, in Venezia
written by:
CatrionaM

I'm so tired, lover. I have a bruise on my temple, my lower teeth are wobbly after being knocked with a branch, some of my nails are broken, my knuckles are grazed and bleeding, my hands parched and rough.

I'm so tired, lover. I don't have energy to invent scenarios of sumptuous debauchery or kinky delight tonight.

I just want to get in the battered Defender, and drive and drive until I can get off in a different land, step out in my dirty cargos and muddy boots in front of an old palazzo with steps of marble and crystal chandeliers, walk in and, without a blink from any of the staff be directed to the biggest suite there is.

I want to meet you there, lover, as soft and smooth as you wish, right at the door, dressed in silks and velvet... Or even better, nude bar for a silk frippery round your hips, naked for my delectation.

I want to fall onto the black leather sofa, my head lolling back in weariness, my hair spilling out around my head. I want you to stoop to my feet, untie my boots, pull them off, and so the thick socks. Unbelt and unzip my trousers and pull them down, then the plain black cotton underwear. Pull these down too.

I want you to unbutton my shirt and slide it gently off my aching shoulders, then pull off my black vest. Now, unhook my bra and let my breasts tumble out.

I'm so tired, lover. I can't be bothered getting bothered by the effects work, age and gravity had on my body. I want to stretch out, all along the leather cushions, one leg up on the backrest, one falling on the floor. I want you to kneel by my side and kiss your way down my sternum, lick off the sweat mixed with sand, mud and seasalt. I want you to stroke my aching shoulders as your tongue circles and laps at my nipples, less numb with each touch.

I want to push your smoothly shaven face between my legs, to lick me out of the dead-tiredness and back into desire and life, your worshipful tongue teasing out the darkness as it slathers me in pleasure.

I want you to hold a hand out to me and take me down to the vast, marble bath, full of steaming water fragrant with the seductive oils of the East.

I want you to sit by, ready to massage my toes and feet when I desire, and otherwise regale me with stories of all the slutty deeds you enjoyed while I was away, all the male and female lovers that you pleasured and that pleasured you.

I want you to bring me a ripe peach and feed it to me, letting the juice drip down my chin and onto my breasts. You may lick it off afterwards.

I want to step out of the tub, ready to be wrapped in an enormous bath-sheet that you hold out for me and just stand there as you dry me.

I want to lie down on the bed covered with the crispest, coolest white sheets and let you rub creams and lotions and oils into my skin so it becomes smooth and soft and glows again.

I want you to bring out my most extravagantly luxurious lingerie. The satin and sheer mesh crismon-and-black bra that frames my nipples so beautifully, please fasten it for me as I lean down to stretch my arms and back. Then the long under-bust corset lined with and covered with silk. That needs lacing up, although not too tight tonight.

Finally, the thigh-high stockings with seams and wide lace edges. You may clip onto the suspender straps of the corset. They frame my ass quite unlike anything else, the lace just grazing the underside of the buttocks, the seams and straps leading to the source of delight between my legs.

I want you to stand behind my as I sit at the dressing table, painting my face. Brush my freshly washed hair, teasing out the tangles and roughness, let it fall down on my shoulders as it dries in a glorious mane of silver and gold.

As I sit in a deep chair, bring me a long-stemmed glass of wine as dark as the sea.

I want you to kneel by my feet, your head between my knees, your hot breath on the strip of skin between my corset and the stocking top.

I open my legs a little, giving you more space to lick your way up my stocking tops. I shiver when your tongue, soft and wet and hot, touches the bare flesh. My sex is suddenly alive, flowing. The salty, musky liquid of desire is dripping down my thighs, covering my skin with a slick film of stickiness, dampening the lace, rivulets gathering together in my slit to travel down towards my ass.

I open myself wide for you as you lap it all up, your tongue moving in slow, flat strokes along my silky, shaven labia to stop just before the throbbing hardness of my clit.

Your tongue encircles my clit and then you move in a sequence of kisses down, again, maddeningly, perfectly, your tongue now firmer, stiffer, darting in and out of my sopping pussy. I hold your head with my hands, push your face deeper into my pulsating, ripe sex, your whole mouth now glued to my lips below.

Nobody eats me out the way you do, lover.

You move down now, my legs up on the arm-rests of the chair, my ass ready for your tongue which slides in smoothly, exquisitely, the muscles of my rosette opening up and then contracting like in a kiss.

I arch my back in a spasm of pleasure that starts bubbling at the base of my spine, cross my ankles on your back, pushing your face deeper into me.

Your tongue is moving inside me in little circles, I can feel its pressure on the thin wall that separates my ass from my cunt. My pussy is so drenched that surely you must be lacking air somewhat, but the delicious pleasure I'm experiencing overrides such considerations.

As you eat out my ass, your hands caress the front of my thighs, my mound, your thumbs on my labia.

I pull you higher, I want your tongue in my throbbing cunt now, your upper lip just about pressing on my clit, your teeth just below.

You lick up the underside of my bud and I am shaking now, my body spasming at the peak of desire.

You kiss my clit and then take it between your lips, with infinite gentleness and perfect timing. I'm burning, lover, under your exquisite mouth, your manicured fingers in my pussy, your tongue on my clit, the thumb of your other hand on my asshole.

The tide of pleasure overtakes me, higher and higher and I pull you up from between my legs, your sticky mouth leaving trails of my own pleasure on my body.

I kiss you on the mouth, lover, tasting myself on your lips and tongue, and wrapping my legs around your hips. Your cock is ragingly hard against my belly but I don't let it slide inside my pussy, instead pushing against the base of it and your tight balls with my sodden sex.

Presently, I reach to the drawer in the little side table and pull out my double-ended silicone dildo, the favourite toy of so many of our encounters. I push your hips up, make you flip around and, having inserted one end in my pussy, swap the ends and push the end thus lubricated against your own smoothly waxed ass.

My legs are now close together, you are straddling me and the dildo, as deep in your ass as it is in my cunt, fills me up and causes delicious shivers every time you move on my lap.

All tiredness gone, I buck my hips up, ramming my cock in you at the same time as its other end plunges into my cunt. I push you on the floor, onto your knees, your head on your folded arms, your hips high up for my taking.

You are moaning as I fuck you, not gently anymore, and I am not sure if you are moaning in pain or ecstasy. Sometimes it's impossible to tell them apart.

I am holding your hips, pulling them towards me, our bodies fused, my orgasm finally rising deep inside me, spreading out from my very core, wave after wave after wave of pleasure, I am crashing at each crest only to be lifted yet higher at the next one.

I own you now, lover, you are completely mine in body if not in soul, my smell, taste and touch forever cruising in your synaptic gaps, my hands searingly hot on your skin, reaching now to your cock, deliriously hard.

As I shake and tense in my climax, you explode, the warm sticky wetness on my hands, we collapse on the floor together, I lick your pleasure off my fingers, the salty, astringent stickiness on my lips, then your lips as we finally kiss.

*****

I suppose it turned out a little Biblical and a little Homeric at times. Purple prose at full throttle. Oh well. Thanks to N for ''slathering in pleasure'', I couldn't resist stealing it.

As usual, comment, comment, comment, please.