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I’m so attuned to her that I hear her intake of breath, a sharp contrast to the warm summer breeze blowing against our skin and my feathers.
At first, her legs are locked tightly together. So I kiss right up the seam of them. As her little sighs continue, her legs begin to relax, and I massage up her calves and pause at the sweet flesh above her knees.
She’s so achingly soft. Though she still has the flimsy fabric covering her sex, her scent is strong and intoxicating up close. I open my mouth as I kiss her thigh, sucking and scraping my teeth just the barest bit over her soft skin.
She shudders beneath me. I feel her everywhere. Even the denser nerves in my wing she lays upon light up at the feel of her responsive movements. I suckle her skin ever more hungrily, and her hands come to my shoulders, fingernails digging in. Urging me upwards as her legs relax open.
I want to rip the fabric away from her sex. Looking up, I see a large wet spot, and her scent is heavier in the air.
I lift up from between her thighs.
“I want to taste you here,” I growl.
She looks down at me, and for one second, her breath hitches. But then she nods frantically. “Yes, please. I want that, too.”
I grin wide and then, using my hands and teeth, tear away the lacy fabric separating me from her mysteries. She shrieks a little but only widens her legs further.
And then I’m there, breathing over her glistening pink sex, hungering like a wolf to devour her.
First, I inhale, for once feeling a modicum of the patience I pretend to possess.
But only because when it comes to this perfect pleasure, I will not rush. No, I will not rush my first taste of this finest wine.
I lick straight up the center of her. Which makes her quiver and almost knocks me over with the wild, feral scent of her.
When she doesn’t immediately begin to squeal the little mewls like I heard through her door last night, I intuit that I must learn the ways to touch her. So I lift a hand experimentally, tentatively touching the flushed, pink folds of flesh.
She curves her body in toward me. As if she’s shy. But her hips also move. Seeking.
I’ve never been tentative in my life, so I make my fingers bolder, pressing my palm against her flushed sex and exploring with multiple fingers.
I can’t quite tell what I’m touching just by feel. But I know when she starts to respond to me, and I feel little nubbins amongst the softer, moist flesh. When I rub, she begins to make noises, and her hips move even more. Oh, I like that. I like that quite a lot.
Trying to memorize where my fingers are, I keep moving them and rubbing her, desperately ignoring my own shaft pulsing achingly in my pants. More of her scent perfumes the air.
I must have my mouth on her. I must taste the scent that’s been torturing me.
Finally, I drop my head between her legs, and she opens wider still to me, welcoming me in.
I lift my finger from the upper part of her sex, where I was rubbing a nubbin of nerves that seems to have her quite excited and replace it with my mouth.
If I thought she was excited before—
Her legs immediately lock around the back of my neck when my mouth closes over her there, and I start sucking. She tastes delicious, and I cannot believe she’s actually allowing me to suckle her in this bare, intimate place at the center of her. It’s so animal and intimate at the same time.
I grasp her ass and pry her open wider to me as I get acquainted with her, laid before me like a feast.
I am not a proper man, and I do not know if there is a proper way to do this. All I know is that now that I have my consort in this position, and she is enthusiastic to be here, I want her to be encouraged to come back for more. And more, and more, and more.
I leave one of my fingers in between her legs and continue to explore. With her legs locked around my head like this, her sex is amazingly open to me.
I always knew females had an opening here; I’m not a complete fool about the mechanics of how sex works. But to press my forefinger all along her drenched entrance while I suckle at her bundle. . . I’m amazed at the way she starts to go wild all around me. Especially when I slip my finger inside her—oh fuck, inside her—and pull back against the upper ridge of her pubic bone. . . Then I tug back against my mouth, where I lick and kiss and tongue her—
She screams. And I mean screams so loud I almost let her go, except her nails are digging into my shoulder and her hips buck against my face in a way that makes me think the scream is a good thing. So I keep going. And the scream rides up the scale to an octave I’m not sure many mortals would even be able to hear.
She bucks and bucks against my mouth until she finally goes still, that high-pitched whine still coming from her throat.
Then, she collapses against the grass, only the tip of my wing beneath her now because we were both so vehement in what we were just doing.
