To watch you from the corner of your hotel room would be a delight.

To be an audience for your performance, to bear witness over your long-felt lust finally released would prove to be a privilege.

To be able to taste your scent in the air as you guide your stiletto heels out of your evening dress, leaving a crumpled heap of ink-blue satin on the pristine carpet, would ignite a fire within my chest.

To watch you perch on the corner of the bed, your eyes fixed on mine, your hands firmly running over your flushed flesh, your breasts nestled in decadent lingerie, the matching panties drawn to one side to reveal a neat patch of hair adorning perfectly plump lips, would be my heaven.

To be able to see your flexed fingers tease the clit that proudly pushes out between the exquisite folds of sodden skin, to see those fingers slowly disappear in to your throbbing cunt, to watch the sensual peaks of pleasure appear on your beautifully blushed face as you fuck yourself, to be privy to this ultimately personal moment, would be nothing short of an honour.

To be beckoned over with those fingers, still curled and wrinkled from your drenched pussy, and instructed to kneel between your legs, to worship at your altar and be offered a taste from your extended hand, taking both digits between my lips and savouring every inch of the sweet and savoury nectar they bring as I draw them to the back of my throat, to be handed a preview of just how good you taste, would cloud my senses, stoke the fire and make me impossibly hard.

To inhale you deep, to run my beard against the inside of your thighs, to trace kisses along your trembling skin as we work together to remove the lace that adorns your hips, to hover my lips over yours and feel the heat and the pulse of your passion against them, to lightly run my tongue up your smooth outer labia and across the throbbing hood of your clitoris, nestling my nose in your hair, would be all that I lived for in that moment. It would be everything to me.

To feel your cunt acquiesce to my inquisitive mouth, to have you invite me in with a moan and an arch of your back as I licked and searched, flicked and sucked, blew on and kissed every fold of you, to explore the landscape of your body with my fingertips as I tongue-fuck you, holding your hands, teasing your nipples and slapping your breasts, holding on to your writhing hips as you shudder with pleasure, electricity flowing from the tip of my tongue through your stiff clit and up throughout your whole body, to hear you curse and moan to yourself as two of my fingers enter you and beckon your orgasm to come forth, stroking the inside of you in time with my insistent tongue, to see you from my anointed position, your eyes closed, spotlights dancing behind your eyelids as the waves of ecstasy become tidal and engulf you, flooding your senses and drenching your soul, would give me life.

To feel your body relax as I gently kiss your pulsing lips, to hear your moans and whimpers turn into giggles and sighs, to be drawn up and against your rapidly heaving body to be kissed deeply and for your own come to be tasted on my mouth, to place my hand on your thudding heart and look in to your eyes, would be the perfect (re)union.