He straddled me and positioned his ass just above my belly. The warmth of his tight cheeks centered right over the remains of the ice cube. His cock rested in my wet cleavage, hot as a poker against my chilled skin. I could just smell the male musk rising from the heat of him. I felt something drip over his erection and my nostrils suddenly filled with the unmistakable smell of maple syrup, all earthy and sweet. My mouth watered and my mind reeled.
He fucked my breasts, squeezing them together around his girth and sliding back and forth in the sticky passage between them. "Sweet, sweet, sweet," he muttered and I could hear the smile behind the words. He thrust upwards, tapping my chin with each stroke. His fingers never stopped their dance against my nipples twisting and pinching them in time with the rhythm of his shaft. I don't think I've ever come so close to orgasm having only my breasts touched.
Tristan reached behind me and propped my head on a folded pillow and slid up so that his cock could reach my mouth. When he began to circle my lips with the soft head, I eagerly licked the sweetness there. Mixed in with the fragrant maple was the salty tang of his own liquid. I poked my tongue into the hole at the tip. He grunted at the small penetration and pushed further into me. He was thick with desire, stretching my lips, groaning at my eagerness to suck him dry.
Without my hands, I had only my tongue and my lips to please him. I tightened my mouth around his girth and pushed back against his thrusts. He began to work his hand over the base of his shaft knowing I couldn't possibly take him completely. God it was so hot to know he was touching himself as I sucked him. I knew that, like me, he had allowed himself to let go, to do whatever came to him. Use me. Take your pleasure. Take me.
I wanted him to come in my mouth. I wanted to taste the essence of man, to feel it run down my throat oozing with life. The pace of his hand quickened and his cock moved faster and faster in my mouth until he abruptly stopped, checking his climax. I mewed out my disappointment when drew himself out of my mouth.
"Not yet, my queen. I love that you want me to come in your sweet mouth, but I'm not nearly finished with you." He gently cleaned the stickiness from my chest. He removed the blindfold and untied my hands. "How about some dessert?" I was pulled up to a sitting position and he sat across from me, putting my legs over his powerful thighs. I looked down between us and saw his turgid cock pointing straight at my pussy. Although I longed to have him there, I knew that the roller coaster of arousal would eventually reward us both. It was a wonder he could contain himself. His cock looked explosive.
"Berries," he pronounce and lifted the dome on a dish full of strawberries and raspberries. In the middle of it was a small dish of whipped cream. "I know berries and whipped cream is a bit cliché but for the life of me, I couldn't think of a more sexy fruit, other than the peach between your legs."
We took turns feeding one another bite after luscious bite. Tristan took one of the biggest strawberries and ran it between my legs, popping it in his mouth. "Sweeter than sugar," he grinned. He dipped his finger in the cream and spread it over my nipples. He sucked it off and smacked his lips. We laughed and kissed. We caught our breath, but his cock never slackened and the wet spot under me continued to grow.
I watched him suggestively work the red fruits as if his mouth was down on me. He flicked at the tip of the strawberry with the same rhythm as his tongue would dance on my little erection. All the while his smiling eyes watched me watching him. It was the kind of scene you'd imagine in a campy soft porn movie. Nevertheless, it was effective. Tristan had a way of drawing our sex into a languid, slowly ascending pace that pushed me over the edge. By the time his cock finally found my pussy, I was voraciously hungry for it.
We twined around each other at last, breathing the fragrance of berries and the musky heat of arousal rising from both of us. I ran my hand down the side of his body, feeling the marvelous definition of all of his muscles. Side by side, we explored the delight of being so different from one another. The soft curves of my hips nestled against the narrow bridge of his. His hard, fat cock pressed up against the cushion of my pussy and slid toward home. He was all outward, all male, with his cock displayed in the full measure of his masculinity. I was tucked inward, offering a warm feminine cave to welcome him inside.
I tilted my hips and pulled my knees apart with my hands, ready for the first delicious thrust of his shaft. He reached over and pulled me toward his body as he lay on his side. He scissored my legs, one between his and one over his hip as he guided his erection into me. His strokes were measured, controlled. What a wonderful way he had me pinned between his strong, warm thighs. He was inside me and all over me with his hands at the same time.
I closed my eyes and gave my consciousness over to the engulfing sensation of being full of him. I craved the union of our bodies with a hunger that only seemed to grow with each new discovery. I felt him quicken and I moved harder against him, pressing myself into the contracting muscle of his leg. His hands stilled and his head was thrown back against the pillow with a great grunt that sounded like painful pleasure. My climax wrapped around his spurting cock, coaxing the last rush of fluid from its tip.
We panted next to each other, still joined. It was a moment I always made last as long as I could. I was satisfied completely by his lovemaking, but never fully sated. There was always a desire for more because it was the one sure way I had of knowing, at least for the moment, that the man was mine.
Eight
I nervously twirled around for Tristan's appraisal. I had chosen an ivory colored knit dress with a cowl neck and some coffee colored suede boots that came up to my knees. The dress slid over my skin as soft as goose down. It made me feel utterly feminine, as if the dress was caressing me. I had gathered my hair into a loose ponytail at the back of my head and let a few tendrils go free. My make-up, as usual, was minimal.
"If 'chaste' is the look you're after, I think you've nailed it."
I knit my brow. "You gave me the dress! Was 'chaste' what you were looking for?"
He rose from the stuffy button-backed chair and held me. "I was looking for soft, which is what you are. Soft and sweet. You are perfectly and appropriately dressed. Except . . ."
"Except what?" I scanned my image in the mirror trying to figure out what I had missed.
Tristan pulled a velvet box from the inside pocket of his blazer. "I know you're going to object, but you need to be properly 'accessorized' as Kwan would put it. My father has an eye for details. If you hate the jewelry, we can take it back--later."