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 She's all tied up in red Christmas ribbons, tied to the bed, of course,
with wide satin ribbons dark against her wrists, her ankles, bright and
shiny in the black and white monochrome of body and bed.

   But what would I do with her?

   I'd look at her first, of course, her long-nailed white hands on the
black velvet bedcovers, small wrists wrapped in smooth satin, barely
visible through her pale skin I'd see the blue veins running along her arm
to the soft inside of her elbow.  I'd touch her there, feel her blood just
below my fingertips, then run my touch up along the muscle of her arm to
her shoulder, then her neck.  I'd touch her ear through her hair, the pale
skin just showing through the dark silk softness, then I'd push the hair
back behind her ear, continue my finger down over her jaw, the hollow in
her throat, down between her breasts, to somehow be surprised that her
tattoo feels the same as the rest of her skin, to wonder whether it would
taste any different.  I'd brush my hand in a wide circle around her breast,
just where it begins to come up from her chest, rub the back of my hand
down her side, feeling her ribs against my knuckles at first, then the
ridge and curve of her hip.

   I'd turn my hand over then, and pull it, palm flat, across the smooth
hardness of her thigh to the curve of her calf and the shiny Christmas
ribbon about her ankle.

   Maybe then I'd untie her, this one ribbon at least, because if I untied
this one I could drag it back up along her body, a ticklish caress that
might make her writhe, might make her nipples hard as it passed over them.

   And if I untied one ankle, I could set her leg on my shoulder, run both
hands along it, maybe kiss the inside of her ankle, the bone and its little
hollow against my tongue.

   If I were Japanese, I'd lick my way up her calf, bending her leg back,
to kiss the back of her knee, all soft skin stretched tight, hard pressed
against my teeth if I were to bite her.  I've been informed that the
Japanese consider the backs of the knees very erotic...

   Although I am not Japanese, I rather suspect that Lilitu has very
attractive knees, and so I would probably kiss them anyway, smooth skin
slightly salty against my tongue, tendons moving beneath her skin as she
bent her leg a little more, her heel sliding down my back as she would try
to pull my kisses farther up her leg.  I'd brush my lips over the cool
smooth whiteness of the inside of her thigh, the taste of her skin, the
smell of her skin and maybe a little more, until I would come to the
somewhat warmer place between her legs, a different taste slick and wet in
my mouth.

   Sharp, but nice.  If I were to taste her, I imagine that she would
remind me of an apple, one of the tart ones, sour-sweet and fresh and
juicy. I can imagine that Lilitu could be mouth-watering.  And she is
shaved, so she'd be smooth, very smooth and slippery, my lips against her
lips as I opened my mouth against her sex.  I can imagine how warm my
breath would feel to her, how warm the taste of her would make me feel, as
I closed my lips around her clit, without sucking, just a light soft
pressure to make her squirm up against my face.

   But it occurs to me that I haven't been inside her yet.  While I'm not
generally over-obsessed with penetration, perhaps it would feel nice, as I
held her clit between my lips, my tongue just barely brushing its tip, if I
stroked the smooth inside of her labia with my finger and then curled it
inside her.  I can imagine how she'd feel inside, even more smooth as she
squeezed around me, and very very warm.

   I wonder, would she move against my face more, or less?  It might hold
her still, but then again, if she'd like the feel of it moving inside her,
perhaps she'd move against my hand.

   Of course, if I really wanted to hold her still, I'd slide that finger
temporarily out of her.  Slippery and wet, I'd use it to caress her farther
down, until tight muscle relaxed enough to let me in.

   And if I did that, I'd want to bring my other hand up to replace the one
I'd moved, so that I could feel inside her with both hands, and feel my own
fingers inside her through her body as I slowly stroked one finger with the
other.

   Now, granted, this is a position that leaves me leaning over, my weight
on my elbows; but if it feels anywhere near as good as I'd imagine that it
must, she probably wouldn't need me to hold it very long.