Four writers for the price of one blog
I can’t hear her moans, I feel them. They vibrate up the spade of my tongue and right into my brain. Her scents and tastes vary according to the phase of the moon and she’s tinged with metal and maple now. What I do has become second nature so I can concentrate on what I feel. Selfishly, I give so she can drown me in her desire. With lips, fingers, and tongue I’ll drag the truth from her, yet again.
We’ll both revel in her high tide.
Her tongue froze mid-circle on my clit. She’d been teasing memercilessly, fooled herself into thinking the knots she’d tied had been tight enough. My teeth sank into her ass, but not hard enough to bruise. I wet my fingers in her slit, licked them clean, then slid them inside her. She didn’t try to stop me. I pressed hard into her with two fingers. She curled up and exhaled discordantly as an accordion. I slid underneath her and jerked hard as I licked. I groaned roughly into her, mouth open. She wet my face, made my eyes sting with her saltwater and musk.
I’d stop people on the street today with my scent and glow.
She matched me, lick for lick. Her sweat mixed with mine and the scent of jasmin, berries and overheated pussy filled the room. My fingers searched out the same softness as hers, twitched, thrusted, stretched. She yielded as eagerly as I did. Everything was soft and almost unbearably hot. Her groans were the bass to my treble and we competed for best sustain and timbre. Her thighs tightened on my head, muscles pulsing in a rhythm I knew well. I tightened around her virtuoso fingers and sucked. Soon we were landed fishes, shivering head to tail. We’d be gasping for breath until we swam in each other’s saltwater again.