The sounds of the party were a muted hum from inside the house as the three friends gathered around the fire pit looking out across the snowy valley, blankets across their laps and a warming red wine in their glasses. Selva sipped her drink, a warm buzz making her body tingle as she watched the other two, snuggled up together against the chill air. They’d been dancing inside, the music deep and bassy, the trio grinding against each other, giggling and touching until they had had to come outside to cool down, the sexual tension between them palpable.
The three of them were close and the heady combination of drum and bass and alcohol had loosened their inhibitions further.
“Do you know what I love most about sex,” Sandrillon said suddenly, leaning forward conspiratorially so that the others had to gather closer to hear her.
“Sucking cock?” Francis ventured, which made Sandrillon laugh. Selva smiled, her nose crinkled and her eyes danced mischievously. How sexy his friend looked, her make-up smudged, and her body relaxed as she shoved him, letting her hand linger on his arm, fingers wandering up to his biceps and giggling.
“Well, obviously I love that,” she smirked, “but no, what really gets me wet is thinking about the glide of lips on skin. I’m talking about from the beginning, you know what I mean, the slow build-up. When your lover kisses your fingertips then moves to drop butterfly kisses on the corner of your mouth, tracing lower across your throat, leaving you completely vulnerable, your eyes closed as they work their magic, trailing across your body. Imagine if there were more of you, the thought of giving yourself over to all those mouths,...
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Read all about the wonderful author: Lexie Bay