<span class="bbc_size" style="font-size: 10pt;">►Chantal◄</span><br/>► Company:  Triste<br/><br/><div class="floatright">(http://i1177.photobucket.com/albums/x359/Briar_Rose_Thorne/Chantal_zps0a3ae8a7.jpg)</div><br/>The slight widening of her eyes was the only indication Chantal made of surprise as she was lifted and pulled more fully astride Triste's long, lean form.  Though she was not a particularly heavy woman, still it was no mean feat to accomplish the task so effortlessly and without momentum to aid the movement.  She was, however, appreciative of strength in all its forms, particularly when it benefited her, and when it indicated that she had met with some success in eroding the control of her lover over his desire.  Without demur, and also without physical indication of the thrill that playing with that particular fire gave her, she adjusted to accommodate the change in position.  Her long, supple fingers splayed out over Triste's shoulders and back, trailing over the smoothness of his skin and the play of muscle beneath, curling at times so that the light rake of nails occasionally offered contrasting sensation to the smooth tickle of her fingertips, particularly as his teeth grazed delicate skin and tongue and lips tickled and teased along her breasts.<br/><br/>Though Chantal had been taught from her earliest memory that her well-being and success was dependent on bringing pleasure, she was not so selfless as to deny herself the luxury of enjoying being pleasured.  Triste was effortless expert, or so it seemed, and well disposed to detail.  As his lips explored, Chantal bent her body in response, hands slipping with some regret from his shoulders to the bed to allow and encourage his touch and kiss.<br/><br/>Effortlessly, or so it seemed, he discovered the areas most sensitive to his caresses, the bottom half of each aureola and underside of her nipples.  As his tongue and teeth probed there, Chantal's breath caught in her throat, and she shivered with delight.  One hand left its support on the bed to run though his curls and to press against the shudderingly delicious sensation all the harder, though she retained enough of her instincts to be alert for his reaction and adjust hers accordingly.<br/><br/>The hand upon her thigh was as warm as the sun, and gentler.  Though she could not quite reach to finish the rest of his undressing, she turned her head as his free hand slid through her hair to press her lips against his palm through the dark strands of hair that swung free, letting her lips drag against the movement.  She did not speak, but the responsive movements of her body and the catch and pace of her breathing betrayed a growing arousal that ever so slowly pushed against the careful controls she had learned to keep them in check.