She parted the fabric of her blouse and revealed the bounties that lay underneath, a garden of skin, cream and vanilla. A mesmerizing valley of supple flesh: as radiant as the sun, as ethereal as the moon. Lance wondered if he had just witnessed the Sanctuary of Adam and Eve where the Lord first bestowed unto them form and understanding. No, not wondered. He knew. This was it. His eyes beheld Paradise. Beyond the veil of fabric she harbored the rivers of Eden streaming across the pastures of Nirvana, where angels frolicked and martyrs slept, sacred hillocks of honey and musk blessed with abundant reserves of milk, the sealed and consecrated nectar of hallowed adoration and mystic knowledge, a numinous balm for every malady, fountains of purity and delight.
Tentatively, Lance placed his hands upon Maryam’s bare, ample bosom, smooth and delicate, the tips of his fingers sunk into her as he brought forth his lips to touch upon the dale between the two succulent mounds of plenty. The kiss ignited the fire of passion and desire coursing through their veins, she, looking up to the skies, eyes closed shut, clenched, a sign of lust’s overwhelming flame staggering her every fiber, the folds of her lavender headscarf still neatly wound around her face entirely covering her hair except a few minute strands of curls protruding from the front of her scalp at the edge of her forehead. Her mouth slightly parted, faintly agape, lower lip hanging somewhat limply, minuscule droplets of saliva accumulated at the corner like colorless jewels, pearls of Elysium. Lance steered his path of kisses from her cleavage down to her navel, then looked up to gaze at the countenance of his beloved drowning in ecstasy. It was glorious. Majestic. Divine.
He stationed himself up on his knees, now towering the petite frame of his wife, and placed his lips upon hers, breathing in the warm, organic scent of her exhalation, sweltering from the pit of her belly. Her lips were his Heaven. The kiss lasted an eternity summed within the stroke of a minute, the heat flaring love’s eternal blaze. Lance lowered his head unto her chest and planted another kiss therein. Maryam gripped onto the back of her husband’s head, ruffling her slender fingers through the long and silken locks of dark, jet-black hair. They dissolved in unison against the bed, Lance rested upon her, his pate cradled in her arms as he amorously suckled at her soft, tender, puffy teats, faded and pink, behind them, the velvet night melting away.
— Fahim Ferdous Promi