This story can only be found bundled with the Erotic Novella “Slippery When Oiled”
Her thighs were slender and pale. Even with the left laying on the right there was a triangular gap – well, not triangular, exactly. There were no straight lines. The two longer sides were subtly curved. The shorter one was bow-shaped, a cleft arc. All the lines were clean, no fuzz. She’d shaven, perhaps for me. I hoped it was special, for me.
I inhaled. There was a trace of talc, a hint of some perfume, Shalimar perhaps. Beneath the artificial odors I could just detect her own fragrance. Her musk was a blend of lemon and cognac, heady and slightly sharp.
My mouth was watering and she was likely growing impatient. I wanted her to be impatient. My lips pursed and puffed out a breath of air. It would have stirred fine hairs, if she’d left any, but she hadn’t. There was just porcelain skin, fine pored, infinitely tempting.
My right arm stretched down the bed, to her knees. My hand flattened on them to hold them in place and together. It wasn’t time to part them, yet. My left hand spread across the firm cushions of her buttocks and pulled. I wanted her taut but not parted. My pressure tightened the creases of her groin. There were tiny blue veins there, usually invisible, tucked into the creases between thighs and torso, but now exposed.
My head lifted. I extended my tongue. Its tip traced a vein. I think that perhaps she shivered. My tongue flattened and lapped, tasting her skin and the residue of her sweat. Tracing with tongue-tip is for her pleasure. Lapping is for mine. Tantalize, then taste.
I lowered my head and repeated the lick-lap in the other crease. She made a little muffled sound. The cheeks of her bottom twitched. I could feel that had I released her knees her upper thigh would have lifted in invitation.
Not yet, my love.
I increased my hands’ pressure, bending her at her hips. My mouth opened wide, a short inch from her pursed sex. I didn’t blow on it, but I breathed more heavily, warming her with my humid breath. Inhaling brought a taste of her to my mouth.
I pulled back to inspect her. The lips of her sex were still closed but they had thickened a little. My tongue crept out and touched, exactly between them but not penetrating. I held it there, letting her become aware of the immobile touch. Her hips tensed and tried to thrust but I was holding her too firmly to allow that.
My tongue retreated, made spit, and deposited a single droplet on the edge of one lip. When I puffed on it the drop trembled. Would she feel that? Likely not.
I released her knees. Her thighs sprang apart, the upper one at a sharp angle to her hips. When I took a sighting up along her leg it was stretched and perfectly straight, toes pointed at the ceiling. There was an angle of 90° between her thighs, giving me ample room to play in.
No half measures, my love.
My palms flattened on the insides of her thighs. She’s limber. I didn’t relent until her upper knee touched her ribcage.
The stretching raised the tendons inside her thighs. That left deep hollows. I grazed in them, lips and tongue and teeth. I nipped her skin. I pursed and sucked, and sucked, and sucked. It was not my intention to inflict pain, not then. I was leaving my mark. The bruise would be my brand. I was here. This is mine.
I hunched down the bed to get my face deeper between the straining division. It was our first time. She’d be expecting my mouth on her sex, and she would have that, but first she had a lesson to learn. I was taking ownership. She was to be mine, to use as I wished, when I wished. No modesty would be allowed.
My fingers parted the cheeks of her bottom. She didn’t object. With a ferocious lunge, I buried my face into her, tongue stretched and stiff, stabbing deep and wet, piercing the clench of her sphincter and worming beyond, into the dark dragging musk-laden tightness.
She sighed. Her buttocks clenched and relaxed.
For that, for being sweetly depraved, I love you, my love.
My tongue withdrew. Two fingers replaced it. Her bottom accepted the deeper penetration with the same grace as it had welcomed my tongue. I made a silent promise, “All you can take, my love, and just a little more.”
The lips of her sex were thicker and darker. Their inner edges glistened. I tried the glistening with my tongue and found it delicious. My tongue wagged, not penetrating, just slithering between them no deeper than their parting allowed. As my tongue worked, her lips sighed apart, opening to me without my demanding entrance. For each fraction they parted, I penetrated. There was a pulse in one lip. I kissed it. It throbbed between my lips, a delicate, vulnerable flutter that connected me to her heart.
My lips sucked. The flat of my tongue smoothed. Like an orchid, my love opened up to me. An incredibly internal pinkness blossomed between chocolate-tinged petals. There were smooth, slick places and places that were corrugated and yet others that offered polyps of quivering flesh.