The mas glows under flickering firelight. Ancient stone walls cradle us. Sheepskins whisper against skin. Veuve Clicquot bubbles on my tongue, sharp and golden. Hervé’s hands cup my breasts, thumbs circling hardened nipples through thin fabric. I arch back into his chest. His breath heats my neck. The storm howls outside, sealing our world.
I twist, facing him. Lips crash. Tongues duel, tasting foie gras and desire. His beard scratches deliciously. I yank the kimono open. Silk slides off broad shoulders. Muscles flex under my nails. I trace salt-and-pepper chest hair down to his belt. He groans, low and primal.
The Privilege
No words needed. This is our elite rite. Solitary souls colliding in opulent isolation. The fire pops, casting shadows on fossils and shells. My haven, now our lair. I straddle him fully. Grind against his bulge. Fabric strains. Heat builds between my thighs.
His fingers unzip my blouse. Breasts spill free. He sucks one nipple, teeth grazing. I gasp, fingers in his hair. The other hand dives under my skirt. Finds soaked panties. Pushes them aside. Two fingers plunge deep. I buck, clenching around him. Wet sounds mix with the blaze.
I drop to my knees on the sheepskin. Unbuckle him. Cock springs out, thick, veined, throbbing. Pre-cum glistens. I lick the tip, salty. Swallow him whole. He fists my hair, hips thrusting. Gags me just right. Saliva drips. Eyes lock in fireglow.
The Excess
He pulls me up. Rips panties off. Positions me on all fours, facing the flames. Enters from behind. One brutal thrust. Fills me completely. I cry out. He pounds, relentless. Skin slaps skin. Balls smack my clit. Sweat beads on his torso, dripping onto my back.
I push back, demanding more. His hand snakes around, rubs my swollen nub. Circles fast. Orgasm crashes. Walls pulse, milking him. He grunts, slams deeper. Fills me with hot spurts. Collapses over me. We pant, entwined.
The fire dims to embers. He withdraws, cum trickles down my thigh. We curl on sheepskins. His arm drapes heavy. Champagne flute refills. Sips in silence. Storm whispers fade. Dawn hints through shutters.
No regrets. Just sated glow. Secrets stay within these walls. Glass of Chablis clinks. His fingers trace lazy circles on my hip. The mas holds our pact. Elite, unspoken. Until the snow melts.
