In the hot Ibiza sun, on those long evenings, Robert likes nothing better than a bottle of champagne, or two. It needs to be ice cold and only premier cru will do. I’ll take a glass or two, but a glass will never do for Robert.
The cold liquid leaves a trail of goose bumps along my skin, as I pour cru down my long legs. My toes curl and I can’t help but giggle as the luxury drink reaches my feet and Robert’s waiting mouth. The bubbles tingle on my skin, with the iciness making my insides ‘clench’ in the hot Ibiza sun.
A moment passes and a bottle is spent; no matter, we have a case on ice. His tongue is a little rough and dimpled, but it feels wonderful on my skin. Robert says that my toes are best served to him drenched in cru. Who am I to disagree? Along my legs, his tongue travels the route the champagne took, working up to my thighs.
Raoul fetches another bottle; he’s so helpful. The hot sun is so tiring, but Raoul is on hand to help. The air resounds with the ‘pop’ of the bottle cork. It startles me but makes Roberts eyes light up. With a gesture to Raoul, the cru cascades over my body, making my nipples erect and my clit throb once again.
Poor Robert, his excitement nearly overwhelms him. The ice cold cru on my body makes me arch my back and groan with pleasure, as it reaches my folds and swollen cit. His tongue isn’t quick enough and the deck is soaked, but he enjoys lapping all he can from between my legs. From the frown on his face, I can see that he is not happy. From the waste of good cru, I imagine. Raoul is dispatched to fetch another bottle.
The champagne evaporating in the hot sun on my tanned skin fills my head with greedy thoughts. But my thoughts are nothing in comparison to Roberts. With a flick of his powerful arm, I’m spun onto my hands and knees. I know what he has in mind. He clicks his fingers, and Raoul releases cold champagne to dance over my bottom and down the crevice. Its so cold, but I love it. Robert’s hot long tongue darts about my bottom, sucking up as much champagne as it can, but it’s never enough.
Raoul is dispatched again; Robert is fed up and oh so thirsty, and yet, the deck is swimming in champagne. “If a job is worth doing, it is worth doing yourself”, Robert tells himself. Another cork flies through the air and lands in the pool. Oh my! An ice cold bottle is pressed against my bottom hole, before sliding into me. My bottom pulses with the sensation of being stretched and chilled from within. Raoul holds me in place as Robert fills his most loved drinking vessel. Champagne tingles inside me, as I feel myself filling up. No more, Robert, please! The cold of the bottle is replaced with the heat of Robert’s mouth. Finally, he get’s his drink served a la Muse. It gushes out of my bottom and into his thirsty mouth. I can hear him gulping it down. He’ll be flat out drunk with a bad head in the morning, yet oh so content.
Bubbles are tingling on my ass and champagne still dribbles out of Robert’s favorite play toy. A kiss? No. He wants to share the champagne that fills his mouth. My taste mixed with premier cru. Can life get any better?