<br/><div class="floatleft">(https://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/2/2f/AviciaB_zpscg0eysap.jpg)</div><br/><br/><strong>Name:  Avicia (https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=266077.msg13173582#msg13173582)</strong><br/><br/><strong>CLIENT</strong><br/><br/><strong>Situation:</strong>Engaging everything<br/><br/><strong>Tagging:</strong>Andrea<br/><br/><strong>Content Warning:</strong><em>Does anyone who found their way here really need one?</em><br/><br/><br/><hr/><hr/><br/>The time and the need for thought or for reflection had passed.  A physical hunger that she did not know, quite, how to fill, engulfed Avicia’s senses; and an impassioned fervor of need set every part of her aflame with a desire that she did not know, quite, how to relieve.  When Andrea slid so seductively out of her dress, Avicia did not wonder at it, but accepted it as all of a part of this mysterious, unforeseen night.  She took in the woman’s long body, shapely and strong, and ran her hands along Andrea’s sleek hips, her waist, her thighs and shoulders before returning to the marvelous beauty of her breasts.  It was here, in the hard, extended peak of rosebud nipple that Avicia could see the truth, undeniable and unashamed, of Andrea’s own arousal, and that was a thing that Avicia had brought her to.  First her hands cupped and circled the beautiful, silken mounds with their tips as hard as marble; then her mouth closed over her Bride’s flesh, unbelievably warm, unbelievably sweet.  A moan, soft and low, escaped from her throat as Avicia explored with mouth and tongue and teeth; sometimes gently, sometimes not, all as she was led by Andrea’s eloquent body.<br/><br/>Then Andrea shifted, straddling Avicia’s lap, and through a fog of desire, Avicia heard her speak.<br/><br/>“Mark me and claim your Bride for all to see…”<br/><br/>It was never a thing that, before tonight, the widow would have ever dreamed of doing, or indeed had ever heard of doing; but here, in this moment and with this woman, it seemed but natural.  Avicia reclaimed the breast that had been the focus of her attention, and she suckled there, exploring, nibbling, till the rosy flesh was dark and bruised.  Then, more daring, she slid one hand up her Bride’s back, into the silken hair, and drew Andrea’s body to her own.  Her mouth and her tongue found the slim, elegant curve of Andrea’s offered throat, and she tasted the soft flesh, lingering, savouring, before letting her teeth nip at the white skin.  Gently at first, then less so, she bit into the pale column, and Avicia felt a hot, overpowering surge of pride and heat sweep through her.  This woman, so elegant, so beautiful, so wise and knowing, desired her -- Her! -- so much that she was willing, even eager, to wear the marks of Avicia’s need on her exquisite, flawless flesh.<br/><br/>Avicia's own body was trembling, shaking with want and with need, filled with a passion that she did not know how to sate.  Her breath was coming fast, in gasps; her heart was racing.  All she knew of the pleasures of the flesh were the things she had discovered for herself, alone in her bed night after night, and with those thoughts dimly in what remained of conscious thought, Avicia slid her hand down the smooth curve of Andrea’s belly towards her mons.  With her other hand, she brought Andrea’s head down into a long, sensuous kiss; and then, whimpering softly with the urgent wanting, she guided Andrea’s fingers to the middle of Avicia's own back, where the slide of her zipper nestled in between the folds of heavy grey satin.<br/><br/>"Please," she gasped softly against the soft lips of her Bride, her voice more a sob than speech.  "Oh, please!"<br/>