I watched intently as the long, thin glass tilted and the pale fizzing liquid moving slowly towards the rim.

Everything appeared in slow motion and I stared expectantly as the bubbles rose to the surface and tipped over the edge in a thin stream until...

I gasped as the chilled champagne at last found its mark, splashing on my mound, a rivulet of cold, frothing wine running down between my parted legs and seeming to hiss as it flooded my straining clitoris.

Onwards it flowed, over my swollen labia, between my buttocks and soaking away into the towel beneath.

I closed my eyes at this sudden and totally unexpected action and tilted my hips back, revelling in this hitherto unknown pleasure. I am sure that what finally soaked into the towel was not just champagne!

Then I felt his lips touch me, kissing gently around my burning hot entrance and followed immediately by another surprise as more of this effervescence seemed to find its way inside me.

This time, though, it was warm, he had filled his mouth with champagne and was filling me with it me as he kissed.

I was wide open now and excited beyond belief. He had never done anything like this and I gripped the back of his head, pulling him against me as he lapped up the same liquid he had injected into me but now mixed with my own copious emissions.

I was in seventh heaven!

Although I loved him dearly, Philip had never been an adventurous lover. He was always the first to completion and usually had to finish me manually but this... this was new and exciting. Although being incredibly aroused, that feeling was utterly eclipsed by the soaring sensation of love that now gripped my heart.

As he kissed me his tongue began to push into my welcoming entrance, causing my muscles to contract and pulse but then, his hand slipped slowly beneath my bottom, exploring its sticky wetness and lifting me to his lips.

This was amazing and I couldn't help but move my hips, rocking back and forth against his mouth and causing his fingers to dip between my buttocks and slip against that other, tighter hole hiding there which did not go unattended.

Philips warm saliva dribbled from his lips and he used it with great effect by rubbing my perineum and anus with the pad of his thumb.

I was gasping for breath, moaning loudly and without restraint. The combined ministrations of his tongue, his lips and now his thumb were bringing me to the brink and when his thumb nail scratched over that tightest of places, dragging it slightly open as he passed... well, I am sure my heart stopped for a moment!

That was the tipping point or would have been had he not suddenly stopped, leaving me gasping for release.

My eyes remained closed and, for just a moment he left me alone, hanging on the edge.

A second later I realised why when I gasped yet again as the sudden coldness of the chilled champagne being poured into my navel made my stomach contract.

It was immediately followed by Philip's tongue lapping at the tiny trickle than ran down my abdomen.

He kissed my quivering flesh and ran it along my ribcage towards my breasts and then...

He stopped again!

My nipples were straining as though trying to reach the ceiling above us and suddenly his mouth had taken one of them, again the fizzing warmth of his champagne filled mouth drew it in.

He swirled his tongue around it and sucked my flesh ever deeper then allowed the champagne to seep from the corner of his mouth and trickle down my breast as he trapped my nipple tightly and pulled... and then he kissed me.

He kissed me with a passion the like of which I had never known and, as he did so, he entered me,

Gently at first, easing inside my burning grotto, opening me and then filling me.

Deeper and deeper he pushed until I could feel his hips against mine and he began to move, withdrawing slowly and then in again, each stroke a little harder than the last until he was pounding into me.

My muscles gripped him, holding him, loving him and I drew my knees up to give even more depth.

In a whirr, my mind was totally blank, focussed only on the pleasure I was receiving and, hopefully, giving him.

I began to groan, softly at first and then more loudly as my body began to stiffen and then suddenly any control I might have had was lost as the air was pushed from my lungs in a long drawn out wailing scream and the waves of ecstasy crashed through my whole being.

My body and soul became one solid mass of contracted muscles and through it all I felt him pulse deep inside me.

I felt his seed fill me and I threw my arms around him, holding him as tightly as I could, pulling him even closer and at that moment... two became one.

As my orgasm slowly subsided I could feel him still inside me, pulsing ever so slightly and I felt wet and sticky, the concoction of his seed and my lubrication, blended with the champagne, seeping out and dripping down onto the towel beneath us.

Philip rolled to the side and I went with him, my legs wrapped around him, not wanting him to move and we remained like that, side by side on the bed until morning, sleeping happily in each others arms.

When I awoke, it was still quite early, just after five-thirty.

Philip was still sleeping so I very gently tried to pull my arm out from beneath him without disturbing him but he stirred.

“Mmm... Good morning, My Love,” he half whispered through sleepy lips.

“Good morning,” I replied and kissed him gently.

We lay still for a moment just enjoying the closeness I had missed so much of late.

After a while I tried again to extricate my arm but it was totally numb now.

“Can I have my arm back please?” I whispered into his ear. “I need to let the blood back into it.”

Now the lust of the previous night had become this morning's reality I felt sticky and uncomfortable but still very happy.

“I need to shower,” I told him, “Look at the state of me.”

He did indeed look at me, making a show of appraising me from top to bottom and his action made me redden from top to toe.

“Stop it!” I said, suddenly embarrassed. “I'm such a mess.”

He smiled and shook his head.

“No,” he said simply, “You are beautiful.”

We were in Venice for just a few days but they were probably the happiest days of my life.

Philip had changed.

Oh, he was still the same man I married but now he was stronger, more willing to take control.

It was him who decided where we went and where we ate. He was still considerate and asked what I wanted to do or see but there was no indecisiveness, he held the map and he led the way, metaphorically as well as physically.

Venice was an amazing city and I could fully understand why he brought me here. It isn't just old buildings and waterways, the whole place just oozes romance with love seeping from every nook and cranny.

By day we strolled arm in arm, looking in shops and and stopping for coffee, just sitting and chatting and admiring the views.

At sunset we found ourselves in the Piazza San Marco. It was like a little piece of heaven here on earth. As the sun got lower the gilding on the arches of the Basilica of Saint Mark seemed to stand out like great golden frescos, a sight so wonderful that it brought tears to my eyes.

Suddenly, I felt Philips arm around me and when I turned to him he pressed his lips against mine.

“I love you so much,” he whispered when finally releasing me and wiping the moisture from my eyes with his thumbs.

“And I love you too,” I replied with total honesty, “More than anyone.”

We stood silently then, just watching the fading sunlight reflected from the arches.

The Piazza is a large square surrounded on three sides by buildings with arched porticoes all the way round and it was through one of those arches where we found a nice bistro and sat at a table under a canopy sipping wine and just watching as all the lights came on and the sun finally disappeared leaving the golden frescos in darkness once again.

I looked at Philip as he emptied his wine glass and placed it gently on the table, my heart filled with love for him.

“Come on,” he suddenly urged me. “I have something special for you.”

“What! More special than this?” I exclaimed.

He didn't answer but grabbed my hand and almost dragged me towards the canal.

It didn't take long for me to realise where we were going.

At the waters edge, he spoke to a man wearing a striped shirt who then helped us step down into a Gondola and for the next thirty minutes we moved along the water with only the splash of the oar to beak this magical silence.

Philip placed his arm around my shoulders and I put mine around his waist and lay my head upon his chest, my heart pounding with love.

But half an hour is nothing when something so wonderful is happening and it seemed that we had only just boarded when it was over.

I was about to stand when the Gondolier stopped me. 

"Fotographia?”

I frowned and shook my head, fearing that it would be expensive but he pointed to Philip's camera and indicated that he would take a picture for us which is what he did and then helped us from his boat.

For a moment, my legs felt strange and a little wobbly but it soon passed and and I guessed it was because of the movement of the Gondola as it glided along the water.

The walk back to the hotel along classically lit alleyways and over the pretty little bridges that crossed the small canals was like a stroll through a dream. The lights were reflected in the rippling water and I wanted it to never end.

That night we made love with the same passion as the previous one, the only difference being that I gave him a little more attention.

The following day, our last, Philip had set the alarm.

“What time is it?” I asked him.

“Six,” he replied.

“Why so early?”

“Because we have a train to catch.”

“To where?” I asked him through a wide yawn.

“Ah, you will see,” he replied mysteriously.

Breakfast was unhurried and I ate like a horse. I could only put it down to the sea air and the extra 'exercise' but I was ravenous.

The train was not until Nine-thirty but Philip wanted to walk to the station and enjoy the sights and the sunshine.

I didn't understand a word of Italian so I didn't bother to listen to the announcements but simply followed where he led. It wasn't until the train pulled into the station some seventy five minutes later and we alighted to the platform that I realised where we were.

Verona!

We left the train and began to walk towards the city and in a few yards we came to a large ruined gate, a part of the ancient city's wall.

Philip chuckled suddenly and I looked at him curiously.

“Sorry,” he smiled but it just struck me.”

“What did?” I asked.

“That gate, Porta Nuova. Italian for 'new gate'. Doesn't look very new does it.”

I nudged him playfully.

“Silly...” I laughed.

We walked on until we eventually rounded a corner and I saw the coliseum.

Once again I was awestruck and we spent quite some time exploring its passage ways and the arena itself.

Philip knew how much I loved history and this was about as good as it could get for me, a genuine Roman coliseum, over two thousand years old.

In my mind I could see the lions, the Gladiators, the slaves, it was like a living dream and the arena itself was so complete that music concerts were still regularly held there.

When we had seen all we could, Philip took my arm in his.

“Come on,” he said. “Time to see the reason I brought you here.”

“This isn't it?” I asked him, puzzled that there could possibly be anything better.

He shook his head mysteriously and guided me through a tunnel and back out onto the street.

A short walk was all it took until Philip guided me into a small but quite crowded courtyard.

I saw immediately why he brought me here, Juliet's balcony!

I looked at him and saw a small quiver at the edge of his lips and then threw my arms around him, kissing my very own Romeo.

At the far end of the small courtyard was s bronze statue which depicted Juliet.

It was strange in that it was the usual dull, verdigris covered metal except for her right breast and that gleamed as though highly polished.

It didn't take long for me to realise why as people were constantly stepping up and grasping it, stroking it whilst their companions photographed them.

Philip saw the puzzled look.

“It is said that doing that brings true love...”

“But Juliet was just a character in a Shakespeare play. She wasn't real.”

“I know,” he replied gently. “It's just a bit of fun really.”

It didn't feel like fun any more. I suddenly felt that he was trying to make a point and although I am not superstitious, I began to get goose bumps.

All the same, we joined the queue and when it was our turn, Philip went first whilst I took a picture of him.

He looked directly at me as he stroked the cold bronze breast and his gaze burnt deeply into my heart.

Then it was my turn and the fear began to rise inside me.

I tried desperately to conceal it, continuing as we had up until then but when I cupped Juliet's breast I couldn't help but think of Sam and her soft warm flesh.

I released the statue instantly, as though the inert alloy was burning my hand.

I barely noticed the camera flash.

The house itself was a museum dedicated to Romeo and Juliet and the works of Shakespeare was something I had no interest in whatsoever but, Philip wanted a picture of me on the balcony so I duly obliged, paying the entrance fee and making my way upstairs.

When I stepped onto the balcony he was there, down below and looking up at me with love in his eyes and camera poised. I gave him my very best 'Romeo, Romeo' line with full on action, no doubt as many thousands before me had.

The rest of the day passed by so quickly.

Verona itself was beautiful and when we got off the train back in Venice it seemed as though we had only just left.

Once again, the sun was sinking below the rooftops and the shadows were long.

We didn't return directly to the hotel but walked hand in hand through the alleys until we found a waterside restaurant and there we sat with a bottle of wine between us and the most delicious pizza I had ever tasted. After all, we were in Italy...

Philip raised his glass.

“To us,” he said.

“To us,” I repeated, tapping my glass against his with a noticeable clink.

“For life,” he added.

I smiled, gazing directly into his eyes and nodded my agreement,

“For life.”

That night, we made love as though it was the last time. No Champagne, no romantic gestures just raw unbridled sex.

It was like we had never met before, trying anything and everything and not just once! I couldn't believe his stamina. When he came for the second time I was surprised but he even managed a third,

As for me, I lost count of the number of orgasms he gave me, many just by using his mouth and fingers!

By the time it was over I was exhausted and once again we drifted off into a contented sleep wrapped inseparably in each others arms.

When I awoke, I was alone but I could hear the shower running and soon, Philip appeared from the bathroom in his robe,

“Good morning, sleepy head,” he smiled.

“What time is it,” I asked.

“Oh, about eight,” he replied nonchalantly

“Eight?” I gasped. “But what about breakfast?”

He shrugged.

At that moment there was a knock at the door.

“Room service,” a voiced called.

Philip opened the door as I pulled the sheet up to my chin and a smart, middle aged woman entered pushing a two tiered trolley before her.

She looked at me, then at him and smiled an all knowing smile which made me blush deeply.

He signed her receipt and then put something in her hand.

She didn't look at it but simply said,

“Grazie.”

She looked at me again and smiled.

I returned her smile.

“Amore,” she sighed and then left us alone.

I frowned momentarily until I remembered that we were in the honeymoon suite.

After ensuring the door was firmly closed, Philip came over to the bed an whipped the sheet from me, leaving me sitting naked on the bed.

As before I felt dirty in an unwashed way, the dried perspiration of the previous nights exertions and other, intermingled bodily fluids still upon me but, for some odd reason, this very condition made me feel somewhat naughty.

In contrast, as he removed his robe and wheeled the trolley to the end of the bed, Philip was clean and fragrant.

Strangely, this made me feel somewhat disadvantaged, as though he was in control and I was not.

Had he planned this that way or was it just my over active imagination?

I shuffled down to the end of the bed and he sat beside me.

“You smell of sex,” he said, brushing my matted hair back from my face.

“I'll get a shower,” I replied and went to stand.

“No, don't.”

He took my arm gently and I sat back on the bed.

“I like it. It is very arousing.”

I frowned and looked down. Sure enough, he was erect!

“Really?”

He nodded, his face a bright pink.

I smiled and then slid to my knees and shuffled round between his legs, pushing them apart and took him into my mouth until I gagged when the tip began to touch my throat.

I sucked him and twirled my tongue around, paying careful attention to the little hole, dipping the tip of my tongue into it.

I felt him swell as my attention began to have the desired effect and I increased my efforts, intending to swallow what ever he produced but, to my surprise, as his climax approached he pushed me gently back, pulling out of my mouth at the last moment and sprayed his semen onto my face and chest. I was quite surprised at how much of it there was considering the previous night.

“Now I will have to shower!” I exclaimed, getting to my feet.

“Please don't,” he said shyly. “If you don't mind, that is.”

“Erm... alright,” I said slowly. “But why?”

“Because it just feels so naughty, so... erotic, somehow.”

I smiled.

“If that's what you want...” I replied, letting him have his moment. “But you don't mind if I wipe my mouth? I don't really want cold semen mixing with my coffee and toast.”

“Fair enough,” he chuckled, “To be honest, I don't really want it there when I kiss you either.”