quick swallows, not sure how to interpret his behavior. He put the empty cup on the counter next to where I stood, then planted both hands on either side of me. Josh looked into my eyes for a few seconds before lowering himself to the floor.
Still not speaking, Josh parted the opening of my robe, exposing my nudity. When he leaned forward to put his mouth over my pussy, I closed my eyes.
The heat from his mouth made me jump. The coffee had heated it superbly, and the intensity almost made me draw away. Josh growled softly and pushed his body between my thighs. That didn’t even satisfy him enough. The next thing I knew, he draped my leg over his shoulder, and I was helpless to his onslaught.
My hands tightened on the counter’s ledge as Josh feasted. His tongue slid through my folds, exploring all of it. He pushed inside my cunt, drawing out the cream before focusing on my swelling clit. The licking there began tentatively, almost meant to tease. But soon he flattened his tongue, stroking over it as if he tried to taste all of me at once.
My breathing became more ragged as all of my attention centered on the places Josh touched. He kept one hand on my thigh, the other beneath the curve of my bottom, forcing me to endure him. Between my thighs had been sore this morning—too sore for another romp with Josh—and, in another show of his maturity, perhaps he’d recognized this. Last night had been so hot and heavy with burning desire. We’d jumped past the part where I explored him, and hopefully when he would explore me with nibbles, licks and questing fingers. Josh made up for it now in spades.
He kissed me until my womb fluttered. I threw my head back, my robe falling open the rest of the way, exposing my breasts. I had the urge to pinch my swollen nipples, balancing some of the glorious sensation.
Josh must have seen the urge in my eyes. “Do it,” he said between licks. “Touch yourself. I want to see…”
I didn’t think. I just did.
My breasts were heavy, the skin smooth and supple. My areolae had tightened until the darker pink areas were little more than crinkles and ridges. But my sensitive nipples were swollen, flushed and aching in their need to be touched. I can’t say that I proceeded with boldness, for in truth I was shy to be so vulnerable in front of him. Some women can spread their thighs with abandon before their lovers, showing them the most intimate part of themselves without reservation.
I’m from a generation which called it “down there” and, heaven forbid, never spoke of masturbation. It’d taken the patient attention of my husband to show me the beauty of sharing myself with him. He’d taught me to not blush when saying “pussy” or “cunt”. With time, I might have blossomed on my own, but Patrick was like the rain and sunshine to my fertilized seed.
His influence allowed me to roll my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, to revel now in Josh’s attention. He’d pursed his lips around my clit, pulling on it until my legs trembled. Then he lapped up the juices coating the insides of my thighs until I was sure I would collapse in a boneless heap. He curled two fingers inside me, smoothing over a sweet spot that made me cry out with release.
I was tipping over a chasm, falling and then floating over it. My entire body shook as the orgasm blanketed me, rendering me senseless and unable to move or even call out to my lover. I felt the erratic racing of my heart beneath my breast, the only sign from above that I’d survived the erotic assault.
Josh continued to lap at my clit, long and slow, the broad part of his tongue covering my labia before gliding over the hardened nub. It was a torment I gladly suffered. He eased me down from my high with little nibbles that I found pacifying. His mouth brushed the hair on my mound before stopping to caress the curve of my belly. He teased the little indentation in its center moments later before running his lips beneath the curve
Still not speaking, Josh parted the opening of my robe, exposing my nudity. When he leaned forward to put his mouth over my pussy, I closed my eyes.
The heat from his mouth made me jump. The coffee had heated it superbly, and the intensity almost made me draw away. Josh growled softly and pushed his body between my thighs. That didn’t even satisfy him enough. The next thing I knew, he draped my leg over his shoulder, and I was helpless to his onslaught.
My hands tightened on the counter’s ledge as Josh feasted. His tongue slid through my folds, exploring all of it. He pushed inside my cunt, drawing out the cream before focusing on my swelling clit. The licking there began tentatively, almost meant to tease. But soon he flattened his tongue, stroking over it as if he tried to taste all of me at once.
My breathing became more ragged as all of my attention centered on the places Josh touched. He kept one hand on my thigh, the other beneath the curve of my bottom, forcing me to endure him. Between my thighs had been sore this morning—too sore for another romp with Josh—and, in another show of his maturity, perhaps he’d recognized this. Last night had been so hot and heavy with burning desire. We’d jumped past the part where I explored him, and hopefully when he would explore me with nibbles, licks and questing fingers. Josh made up for it now in spades.
He kissed me until my womb fluttered. I threw my head back, my robe falling open the rest of the way, exposing my breasts. I had the urge to pinch my swollen nipples, balancing some of the glorious sensation.
Josh must have seen the urge in my eyes. “Do it,” he said between licks. “Touch yourself. I want to see…”
I didn’t think. I just did.
My breasts were heavy, the skin smooth and supple. My areolae had tightened until the darker pink areas were little more than crinkles and ridges. But my sensitive nipples were swollen, flushed and aching in their need to be touched. I can’t say that I proceeded with boldness, for in truth I was shy to be so vulnerable in front of him. Some women can spread their thighs with abandon before their lovers, showing them the most intimate part of themselves without reservation.
I’m from a generation which called it “down there” and, heaven forbid, never spoke of masturbation. It’d taken the patient attention of my husband to show me the beauty of sharing myself with him. He’d taught me to not blush when saying “pussy” or “cunt”. With time, I might have blossomed on my own, but Patrick was like the rain and sunshine to my fertilized seed.
His influence allowed me to roll my nipples between thumbs and forefingers, to revel now in Josh’s attention. He’d pursed his lips around my clit, pulling on it until my legs trembled. Then he lapped up the juices coating the insides of my thighs until I was sure I would collapse in a boneless heap. He curled two fingers inside me, smoothing over a sweet spot that made me cry out with release.
I was tipping over a chasm, falling and then floating over it. My entire body shook as the orgasm blanketed me, rendering me senseless and unable to move or even call out to my lover. I felt the erratic racing of my heart beneath my breast, the only sign from above that I’d survived the erotic assault.
Josh continued to lap at my clit, long and slow, the broad part of his tongue covering my labia before gliding over the hardened nub. It was a torment I gladly suffered. He eased me down from my high with little nibbles that I found pacifying. His mouth brushed the hair on my mound before stopping to caress the curve of my belly. He teased the little indentation in its center moments later before running his lips beneath the curve
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