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“I swear I’ve never thought lusty thoughts about you before,” Elodie whispers, echoing what I said earlier about her breasts.
“I swear I’ve never thought lusty thoughts about your pussy either,” I add.
She slowly slides her jeans down and slips out of them in two graceful steps. Her skin is creamy silk, her legs are satiny and long, and her muscles are sleek and gently defined under her skin. She’s made differently. Her bone structures are more delicate, every bit of her soft and curved, creamy and smooth. I feel chunky, heavy, and almost awkward next to all of her deer-like grace.
My eyes lower and hone to the patch of lace that covers her. While I’m watching, she slides them down and steps out of them. It’s like we’re currently in the middle of a stare-off—a stripping stare-off. Except I’m already naked. I wonder if she blinked when I was undressing. Have I blinked? We should blink. We should both take a breath. I should take a breath since I might hyperventilate.
“Am I staring?” I blurt out. “I think I’m staring. I’m sorry. It’s just that you’re so, so perfect.”
Her eyes move to my dick’s level, and he throbs like he’s very happy about the attention. “Don’t worry. I like looking at your magical weenus.”
“Magical? I don’t know if it’s magical. You can’t fly on it like a broomstick or use it for casting spells.”
“Can it give good orgasms?”
“I suppose it could. It would really like to give you good orgasms. Like twenty point two six.”
“What’s the point about?”
“Well, I’m sure to leave you unsatisfied at some point.”
Elodie blinks, and her lips curl up in the softest, sweetest smile. I want to kiss her lips again. I want to kiss her everywhere. “Or maybe it’s such an extremely high number that I won’t be able to come anymore, which will approximately be when I collapse.”
“Can I taste your pussy?”
“You call it a pussy?” Elodie covers her hand with her mouth and giggles. “How did I not know that?”
I can feel my face heating up. My body, too, though not with embarrassment but with the flickering flames of desire that’s hot as sin. “What should I call it?”
“A lady cave?”
“You want me to call it a lady cave? Uh, okay.”
She laughs harder. “No, that’s fine. I just refer to it that way. Or lady bits. Va-jay? Box? Pussy sounds so, so…erotic.”
“You don’t find yourself erotic?”
She hesitates. “I’ve never really thought about it.”
I groan. “God, Ell, you are more than erotic and sexy. Those are just token words when it comes to you because they don’t describe you at all. You’re perfect. You’re so, so perfect.”
“No one’s perfect,” she shyly mumbles.
“You are! You’re perfect, and I want to touch and taste you everywhere because that’s what you do to me. Those words aren’t enough. Even perfect isn’t even close to enough.”
She blushes prettily. “Um, well, I…Should I lie down then?” She points at the gigantic bed with the sleek hardwood headboard and footboard. They don’t rattle in the least, which is a disappointment. I’ve never thought about that before. “You asked about tasting my, uh…lady bits? I’d like you to do that.” Suddenly, she covers her face with her hands. “Oh my god, this is not sexy. I’m wrecking this. It’s our first time doing this, and you’re going to remember me telling you not to call my muff a pussy. Oh god, did I really just call it a muff? Because pussy is definitely preferable to that. I don’t know where that came from. And I’m still talking too much, which is not sexy. Are you still in the mood?”
I angle so she can see my cock better. He’s very much still in the mood. And I think Elodie is utterly adorable. She stops talking, walks over to the bed, and flops down. She sprawls out while she watches my hand, which is stroking my dick right in front of her…and holy shit, when did I even start doing that?
“Can you show me how you like to be touched?” I ask her thickly. I very much would like to know, and I also have to say something by way of apology for showing her how I like to be touched without her asking for a demonstration.
She doesn’t seem to mind. Instead, she watches me with fascination and naked hunger in her expression, which of course, makes me about forty-five times harder than I was a second ago.
“You know, like whatever you want to do. Even if you touched me with a plastic hand glued to the end of a ten-foot pole, I’d probably come.” But her fingers hover over her clit anyway, and she circles slowly, smearing silky beads of moisture over herself with every movement because she’s pearly and soaking wet. I get so lightheaded watching her that I see black spots.
