The first wave crashes, striking at the base of your clitoris, a most remarkable iceberg with so much beauty hidden beneath the surface, her nerve endings stretching way back into the deep of your slender body, through your groin and to that magical place in your gut where butterflies take wing.
The second wave shatters the air inside you, like lightening you feel the spasm arc through you, the current runs the length of your whole clit, her earth buried deep into your body.
The iceberg of her intimacy cracks, sending waves crashing, maybe five, six, eight or ten of them running up from the deep, tsunamis pushing yawn-like relief through the ravaged clench of your muscles, their grip released, then quickly washing away.
Wave upon wave, rolling up and back, up and back, a storm breaking, starting strong and powerful before gradually growing calmer, the tempest settling, until tender sunlight breaks through, thighs trembling, arms weakened, clay-muscles groan, putty soft, they heave and yield.
The amber fleck in your green eyes igniting, short sparks, sun spots, moonlight dancing, as if vigorously rubbed against their lids.
Glowing, spent, you slowly open your eyes, and smile effortlessly. Eyes sparkling, lit with the flecks of amber that remain forever caught in the cornea, like crystal scars, shards formed from the embers of galaxies, discarded by their gods and goddesses, and seared over millions of years.
Your lush dark hair falls in loose ragged coils, hung around your striking, glowing face and features, each strand and lock now filled with natural oils that have worked their way out through the follicles, just as the juices between your legs have flowed freely over your firm thighs.
Your heart and lungs cease to compete, they synchronize, giving you a moment to breathe and feed on the energy that now hangs heavy in the air.
You feel your mind and body reconnect after exploding apart, your body filling with confidence as you breathe in, then letting go, exhaling any concerns, as you slow release and breathe all the way out.
You are free and connected to the beauty of your inner self. You lean up on your elbow and with your free arm gently reaching across your breast, your hand outstretched, torso twisting, you reach to retrieve the filled, chilled champagne glass, left waiting at your bedside.
You take a long slow sip, and feel the amber honeyed nectar replenish your tightened throat. You feel the chords relax as you take a long refreshing draw, your tongue nursing the feint cracks you find on your lips, where you sense how the warm, spent air, has left them delicate and dry.
The moment fades and finally you have found a way to relax after being wound so tight for so long. No longer alone, no longer in need. You feel feline, feminine, fortuitous and ready for sleep.c