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“Glargagarg.” Yeah, I know it’s not really a word, but it’s the sound that comes out of my throat right now. It’s a hiccup of desire. That’s what I’m going to call it. It’s not a warning sound that my balls are about to explode from the erotic sight of Elodie spread out before me, soaking wet, swollen, and bringing herself pleasure.
I need that to be my finger. Right now, I need her bucking under my touch, and I need my mouth on her sweet pussy. I need my magical, cursed weenus, or whatever she just called it, inside her.
Steady there. Pace yourself. Busting a nut right here, right now, would hardly make a good first impression.
Uhhh, yes, it would. Just not the first impression you want to make.
Your weenus wouldn’t be so magical then.
I’m not the one who termed it magical. I believe it’s just a hair above slightly average, thank you very much.
It could be more, my friend. More.
I’m not sure whose voice it is that I hear inside my head. My own, I guess, but it’s taunting me, and it sounds deeper than my voice. Maybe it’s my internal sex coach sexing me on. I mean urging me on. For sexing, sex, sexy time? Or maybe boundary-crossing magical wand of wonders time.
“Can I taste you?” I blurt out, asking her again. Because somehow, I can’t believe this is real, and I’m really this lucky.
“If you don’t, I’ll rip your lips off and switch them out for your butt cheeks in some super complicated surgical procedure.”
“But then you would either have to kiss my butt to get to my mouth, or you’d have to kiss my lips in a bizarre position. I’m afraid an open-mouthed kiss might then be out of the question.”
You’re right. I wasn’t thinking it through.”
“Can I still taste you?”
“Yes, please. Please do.”
I can’t wait for another invitation. If I ask her again, I think she’s going to get annoyed and tell me no because I’ve asked too many times. I rush to the bed like the floor is lava, jumping on it so hard that the headboard knocks against the wall just a fraction. Good to know. I run my hand up Elodie’s smooth leg and shudder in delight as goosebumps erupt on her skin. I part her legs gently and spread out between them. She makes room for me as I slide my hands up her shins, knees, and thighs. I kiss a path from her toes to her knee, then up, licking, suckling, and biting the inside of her thigh. I love the taste of her. She smells like flowers and grapefruits, and she tastes like burnt sugar. Yes, her legs. They really do. I’ll have to ask her what magical soap she uses.
“I can’t believe you’re looking at me like that,” Elodie whispers.
I raise my head a fraction, so our eyes meet. I’m still staring down the wonderous length of her body from an excellent vantage point, and my cock twitches while my balls turn another ten shades of strangled, angry purple. I think we passed blue hours ago. “How’s that?”
“Uh, well, you’re looking at me down there, and you have this strange look on your face. I’ve never seen it before. You look like you want to devour me.”
“Am I allowed?”
Her hands grasp my hair so hard that I can feel the pads of her fingers and the slight sharpness of her nails along my scalp. “God, yes. I just can’t believe you’re looking at me that way.”
I want to tell her there’s never truly been another, but I’d rather show her. I kiss my way up to my prize, her perfect pussy. She smells divine, sharper than flowers, more like burnt sugar. I kiss my way to her core, spreading her legs wider for me as her hands tug on my hair. I lap up her arousal from her entrance to her clit and coat my tongue with her spice, swallowing and savoring her before going back for another hot pass.
“Oh my god,” she pants. “Oh my god, Tay, I’m going to come.”
I’m going to come.
What? I don’t expect that. I think she’s teasing me, but on the next pass, when I drag my tongue from her entrance to her clit and circle her tight bud, her legs clamp around my shoulders, her hips buck up, and she vibrates around me, tensing then releasing. She lets out a cry and trembles silently, making muffled moans that are so hot, my balls might turn inside out and end up inside my stomach or something. I’ve heard it’s possible with cats, actually. Kind of. Though not that way. Just that they might be born with a ball in their stomach…uh, I think? Okay, maybe the internet isn’t always correct.
I stop, and Elodie trembles and whimpers harder. Then, she opens her eyes and looks at me. “Sorry,” she whispers sheepishly. “Sorry, it’s just…I don’t normally…okay, not ever. I just…it felt good. Uh, did I wreck it?”
