<div class="floatright"> (http://cimarron.wdfiles.com/local--files/ella/Trist.jpg) </div><br/><strong>► Triste</strong><br/><br/>Triste took comfort in Chantal’s well chosen words, though he knew that his more than occasional bouts of moroseness had no place or purpose in this moment, when her words were so true that their passions should set to flame and ash all other worldly concerns and troubles.<br/><br/>He had learned many things in his long years, and some were quiet pleasant and enjoyable skills.  The first benefitted him personally as Triste was able to feel and discern and appreciate each disparate and yet simultaneous sensation for its own wonders, and those that it added to collectively.  The feel of her fingertips clinging to and exploring the scar, as if to find something within himself that was more than the bleak outer marking indicated, and in doing so, she did just that, making him very glad that his heart still beat and that hot blood still flowed though his veins for her.<br/><br/>The firm sumptuousness of her rear cupped in his hands, the taste and feel of her on his lips and tongue as the kiss played its course out, the closeness of their bodies, one to another, he could sense them all, along and together, savoring each and knowing that each told him something he already knew innately…Chantal was special in every way a woman can be.<br/><br/>Her manner was controlled and patient despite the chemistry and sparks that brewed between them, and while he appreciated her unhurried, sensuous nature and ability to make each moment last, it was not in Triste’s nature to proceed at a singular pace, but rather to make passions come alive, to fan the flames of need and want, to make every moment not only last, but to feel desperately urgent as well.<br/><br/>Sliding his hips closer to Chantal, just aside her as she kneeled on the silken sheets, Triste lay back and lifted Chantal by that delightfully firm rear until her body hovered over his just so.<br/><br/>His lips trailed over the honeyed flesh of her chin and the line of her jaw, catching along with the subtlest hint of his teeth upon the sensitive area of her right collarbone, drawing his affections there with his mouth as the implement of his artistry, then continuing on down her taut and perfectly posed body.<br/><br/>Chantal’s breasts hung to their fullest in this position, the hard points of her nipples and dark areolas accentuating and demarcating their lovely presence.  Trist moved effortlessly beneath her, his long torso giving him advantages that few men enjoyed in such a wondrous manner, his kisses finding sensitive and needful places as he moved beneath her.  The delicious curves of the underside of her breasts were explored in full by his lips, his talented tongue drew itself threw the valley between her tawny peaks, and at last, one, then the other nipple was taken between his rich, warm lips.<br/><br/>Suckling and grazing each with the very edges of his teeth, his lips making larger and smaller circling caresses around and upon them, and his tongue teasing and tantalizing until her stiff and perfect point seemed to reach out to him, then taking them, in turn, fully into his mouth, with the softest of cocoons encompassing the sensitive wonder of each nipple as his tongue stimulated it fully and freely, conferring on Chantal the benefit of hundreds of years of love making and knowledge of a woman’s body and needs.<br/><br/>He did not hold her still or in place, allowing Chantal to move as she wished, to explore his body lain out before her, mirroring her movements as needed to continue his rapturous assault upon her senses, and lightly stroking her thighs with one hand and her silken hair, as it too hung down over him, with the other.