Though the room is dark and the light is non-existent, you call see the radiance of the woman in black, and you can make out her details as well as if the room was fully illuminated. Beauty falls not into the rules of light and darkness, and the light of passion and the torch of lust give full sight where there otherwise would be blackness. Rich black hair can be seperated from the dark by a thin silver line that seems to draw the seperation, and the folds of a seductive black outfit can be seen with each movement, as every subtle gesture sends forth a tiny wave of ripples in fabric. The cloth about her body shimmers, and the hair about her neck glistens. In the darkness, she is all that you can see, and all that you would wish to see. The pale color of her skin glows as if it was luminescent, and inside the framework of the snow-white texture you can see a pair of eyes, as rich and deep in their sexuality as the ocean of fabric that continues to quiver.

She watches you with the look of a predator, a sinister glint in the corner of her eye that tells you her intentions are far from innocent, and her wishes are far from pure. Her eyes squint as she regards your prone body, and her head nods slowly up and down just a few inches each way, as if sizing up what lays before her, and deciding just where she should begin. You can see one delicate hand that she possesses curls up into a gentle ball, the fragile fingers you have so longed to kiss roll up to the palm, and are locked away with the enclosure of a thumb. Her other hand follows suit, and she now watches you with two closed fists, weakly shut as they may be. Her head nods gently down, and the eyes fixate upon your own.

Her name is Lulu...and you have waited for this for quite some time, amidst dreams and hopes, amidst desires and fantasies. But now she is here, and those dark seductive eyes that you have so long yearned are now set upon your frame...the dark pupils framed in black are focused on your form. She smiles, and her faintly purple lips turn up, ever so gently. The predatorial look seems to manifest itself stronger as you gaze upon her lips, and as your eyes behold their sensuality you can feel a rise within your chest. Your heart hurts, as if was trying to swallow itself, and you’re forced to swallow in a mild wave of pain. A pain caused by beauty...a pain caused by anticipation.

“You...” You start to speak, but the words die as they leave your mouth, and all you are left with is the faint memory of the things you wanted to say. The notions die on the whispered blackness surrounding you, and your thoughts fade into nothing, along with the rest of the words spoken through history that made no impact on life. The woman that stands over you lets her smile grow some more, and she tenderly raises a hand of her own. Gradually it trails up, sending ripple and wave throughout the blackened fabric, and as her elbow bends her forefinger reaches out, and touches the crease of her seductive purple lips.

“Shh.” Her whisper is demanding, yet frail. With nothing left to remark upon her hand drops once more, lacking the subtlety and tenderness with which it had just raised. For a moment the silence consumes, and the woman continues to watch you in that teasing, taunting way. She watches, but does not act. Her eyes fixate and burn into your body, and as she looks over you your body begins to mildly sweat. A little behind the neck, and a tad along the chest. As she watches your body you can feel fire coursing through you, as if two hot embers were being forced upon your skin. Your cheeks turn to flame, and then your neck, and then your chest. The heat seers into your bare chest for a moment before trailing down, and a path of fire is seemingly blazed along the length of your stomach, as if tiny trickles of lava had been poured slowly over your chest. The burning continues down, and you can feel the heat reside below your waist. The fire is focused on your manhood, and the sensation causes you excitement.

The feeling of the heat is nearly too much to bear, and for a moment you close your eyes and allow a subtle moan to escape your tightened throat. Your teeth are clenched and your lips are nearly closed, so the moan escapes as little more than a tempted murmor, a tormented groan that spoke volumes about lust, about desire, and about passion. She simply smiles wider, and takes a ginger step forward.

The heat on your manhood is suddenly contrasted, and your entire body shivers with a shockwave of tension as you feel a chill amongst your leg. Looking down you can see her fingers, touching your flesh, gently placed at the ball of your own ankle. The pale skin of her fingertips seems to glow even brighter, and though you can see her flesh clearly your own is a darkened blur. Her skin is cold, and her touch is faint, and as she rests two fingers upon your joint your body grows tight with anxiety, a pensiveness that grows and binds. Without a word her fingers continued to trail upward, and her fingers draw a line of cold that reminds you of the rivers of lava. She holds her touch to the inside of your right leg, and as she slowly steps forward her fingers are drug lazily behind. She seems to make no effort at all to arouse or to excite you, but by the time she has taken a mere two steps, she has done more for you than any other woman could ever have hoped for. She looks away from your face now, ignoring your stunned and estatic glance, and sets her eyes down upon your manhood. It stands firm without aid or support, and it’s exposed flesh is slightly chilled by the proximity to this goddess of the black. The sight of it seems to please her, and you can see from looking at the side of her face that she is smiling, moreso than before. Her lips are turned up so that the corners of her mouth have puckered, and the mole on her left cheek has dipped down a bit, the result of the movement of skin. The hand that has stroked your leg moves up, and the fingers continue their burn of ice, until they seer into your thigh and leave a sensation you feel shall never go away. You resist the urge to shiver and moan, though the urge is so strong you feel you’ll be able to experience it years from now just by thinking about its memory. The hand of Lulu continues on, and her fingers rest at the crook in your legs.

Pressed gently into the wrinkled flesh below your shaft lay her fingers, doing nothing more than touching, than being. You can feel your sex convulse at the contact, and your eyes shut tight for just a brief second. Your mind fights within itself, two sides being a desire to close your eyes and let your sensation sweep you away, and an equally strong desire to keep your focus on the woman of your dreams. The latter proves triumphant, and you watch with all your energy the actions she begins to take next.

You see no movement from below her waist, though her upper half begins to descend. Perhaps because your head is spinning from the lust or perhaps the girl is simply something magical, it appears as if her upper half simply floated down, without pause or friction within its voyage. Within seconds she is obviously knelt beside your bed, and her face is closer to your organ than you ever could have imagined it would be.

Your body goes immediately still, refusing to move or even to breathe, and your eyes focus unblinking on the girl who touches your flesh. Her eyes are determined and looking towards your member, and her lips are still bent towards a smile. Without the slightest warning or touch of subtlety, her head moves forward and her lips brush your sex.

You clench your teeth tight, and you fight the urge to release your passion immediately. After her purple velvelt lips course gently over your flesh they return for a second trip across your skin, and finally upon a third they open, and envelope your head within a moistened, warming shell. Your sex is assaulted with ambrosia and honey, and as your muscle reacts inside her lips your body aches with a desire, a desire to be inside of her further, a desire to be inside of her until the very end of time.

A sensation that is wholly undescribable controls you, and your head falls back upon your pillow, your mouth opening wide and a long, low moan emitting from your quivering throat. The feeling overwhelms your body, and your toes tingle from a wave of sensuality that flies through your veins like a surge of electricity. Your mind reels, and for a moment you feel as if this was the reason the human body was created, simply so it could feel this, the most amazing sensation that the universe had ever known. Your heart stops for just a beat, and your blood holds until it continues again.

She stays patient throughout your reaction, keeping the head of your unit without falter or fail, while her saliva coats it in layers and her tongue cradles it lovingly. As you regain your senses she realizes and follows through, her hand finally moving once more to cup the flesh that hangs. Her fingers make a gentle cradle and make sure to secure your treasures, and her mouth forms a very faint smile around the shaft it holds. Without another sound she continues forward, and lets more of your organ slip into her waiting mouth.

Your flesh slides gratefully into Lulu’s moist passage, through the slick guardian of lips and into a well of lust and paradise. Her head leans down as she continues to consume you, and you can feel the tickle of her hair as it hangs down and rubs your stomach. Cold pieces mark the side of your leg, and you realize that her necklaces have hung down as well, and clutch at the sweat-beaded texture of your flesh. Her left arm hangs seemingly limp along her side, through your lack of vision marrs your ability to see if it does anything other. Without giving another care to sight or to sound, your head falls back onto your pillow, and you stare blankly up at the ceiling.

You can feel fingers trail away from your pouch and up onto your shaft, gripping tight despite a coating of saliva, and firmly grasping a rod of pure muscle. You can feel the wet sensation of your member being consumed, running up and down the length of your shaft, bouncing into the fist that holds you and spraying droplets of moisture as the two viciously collide. The touch of tension and the curse of teasing has ended, and you now are left to revel in the unbridled lust, the unmitigated passion that coursed throughout the veins of Lulu’s body. Her mouth hungrily delves down upon your skin, and all that was reality to you fades. Gone is the chill of the night, gone is the darkness of the bedroom. Gone is your sight, gone is your sound. You can see nothing, and you can hear less. The taste of your saliva dries and disappears, and the mild scent of her frgrant perfume dissipates into nothingness. Your senses are systematically located and destroyed, and all you are finally left with is...touch. You feel heaven, and by the lips that rub up and down along your flesh, you experience what the angels must only dream of.

Your body aches and your bones quiver, as if they wished to be seperated, so that they could both experience things individually. Your skin ripples with all the similarity of her cloth earlier as she walked, though where her cloth returned to normal your skin was marred for moments, cursed with goosebumps and hairs that stood erected on end. Everything becomes nothing...and nothing becomes everything. Your nerves rattle and your mentality reels, and as you can feel her soft, warm tongue course along the flesh of your shaft, you become insane, just for a second’s moment in time.

The next thing you can remember is moaning loudly, and gripping tight to the bedsheets you hold in your hand. Your fingers hurt, as if they had gripped too fiercely, and looking down at them you can see indeed that your knuckles are nearly completely white. You blink, slowly, and you shake your head from side to side, waking from what feels like a dream, and coming back from what you know to be heaven. Looking down you see her, still inches away from your sex. Your member is now spent and used, and you can no longer see it quite as well as you did before. Her hands are down at her side, and her face is gazing at you with all the passion as before. You can’t tell for certain, but her lips look just a little shinier than they did earlier, as if they carried a subtle glaze. Without a word or a noise Lulu leans forward over you, and her hands reach out to take the sides of your head. Her fingers on her right hand are sticky and moist, and you can feel a coating on her palm as it presses against your cheek. Her left hand is dry, though as she lifts it to your head you can vaugely catch a waft of something pleasently scented. She pulls your head up an inch by holding gently to your cheeks, and moves her own head forward. She tilts her head and closes her eyes, and just before your lips meet her mouth opens, and from it pours the proof of your experience. Her lips follow the returned gift and she kisses your own passion into you, your seed playing upon both your tongues as you deeply kiss, lost within the darkness. Her scent becomes strong, and her feel becomes stronger. The cloth of her outfit kisses parts of your body, and still stray hairs and beads of a necklace touch and chill you in a variety of places. The bed sinks gently to your right, accompanied by the sound of a mattress buckling. You do not look, but it is obviously she has placed her right knee upon the bed, in order to lean deeper into you.

Her tongue continues to play on your own, dancing amidst your juices as she deeply probes your mouth. A taste fills your mouth, though it is not the taste of your lover, nor the taste of your own seed. It is hard to categorize, but simple to guess at. Within your best educated assumption, you can only declare it to be the taste of passion, the flavor of lust. Lulu kisses you harder, and her tongue runs slowly along the roof of your mouth.

In the darkness, all you can feel is the woman who lusts for you.