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The pop of a cork
Fills the air
Sound of celebration
Of passionate flare

A twinkle in her eye
A smile on her lips
Knowing that soon
She would take a sip

But golden bubbles
Were just not her taste
The ambrosia she desired
Was wrapped in fine lace

Silent and meek
She feel to her knees
The delicate scent
Already a tease

Gentle encouragement
Softness of touch
Awaited pleasures
They would not rush

Eagerness curtailed
By Mistress’ hand
Fingers in hair
Grip silky strands

Locked in the moment
Bound by her trust
The time had come
To submit to their lust

Lips upon lips
Finally she tastes
The heaven that was hidden
Beneath delicate lace

Slow gentle kisses
Covering lace
Shivers of passion
As she held her in place

A night filled with passion,
lust and champagne
Blissful ecstasy
They both would obtain.

© S.J Warner 2016

(Picture sourced from the internet).