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“Just try to say it once,” he’d urged. “You used to say it all the time.” And, when he’d said that, I’d heard the profound longing in his voice—longing to have back the happy little girl Clara had once been.
I’d hung back, not wanting to intrude and not wanting him to know that I’d heard.
I had done some research on the internet and read that speech regression in children should be assessed by a professional. Aloysius had told me that previously Clara had been able to speak in sentences. I didn’t know whether she could still speak in sentences and just didn’t want to, or if her speech skills had regressed.
When Lorenzo came to bed, I made up my mind to discuss this with him.
I waited until he’d undressed and climbed into bed before broaching the subject. “Lorenzo, I was thinking that perhaps we should take Clara to see a speech therapist.”
He remained silent as we lay in the darkness, so I took that as a cue to continue.
“Aloysius told me that Clara used to be able to speak more.”
“She can speak,” said Lorenzo curtly. “It’s just that she doesn’t want to.”
“But we don’t know that, do we? And I’ve been doing some research and read that if a child’s speech regresses, they should go and see a professional.”
“Clara doesn’t need any help.” His tone had become defensive, and I knew I had to tread carefully with what I said next. I definitely didn’t want to mention that I’d heard him trying to get her to say Dadda earlier.
“I just think that maybe if Clara had better speech skills, she might be able to express her grief better, and that would help her to come to terms with it better—”
“There’s nothing wrong with her speech,” he said tersely. “She can talk if she wants to. She’s just a naturally quieter child.”
It was clear I wasn’t going to convince him otherwise. Things had been going well between us recently, and not wanting to rock the boat by pressing the issue, I let it drop for now.
Lorenzo pulled my body toward him and ran his hands under my chemise, pushing it up so that he could thumb my nipples as he kissed me deeply. I let my mind wander from this evening’s events, not being able to stop my body’s reaction to his skilled touch.
I wasn’t wearing any panties and soon felt his hands between my thighs and fondling my labia, running his fingers up and down my folds and using my wetness to make his fingers sensuously glide against the entrance to my sex.
Soon I was writhing against his fingers, wanting to feel their pressure on my most sensitive nub. But frustratingly, his strokes avoided that.
“Please, Lorenzo,” I begged. “Please touch my clit. I need to feel your touch there.”
His eyes darkened further at my words. “If you want to feel my touch on your clit, you can have my mouth there.”
I sank back against my pillow with relief that he was finally going to give me what I needed.
He hauled me up and took my place against the pillows. “No, kitten. If you want my tongue on your pussy, you’re going to have to ride my face.”
I swallowed hard. Ride his face? He had always taken the lead when giving me oral, leaving me to lie back and enjoy his tongue as it swirled between my thighs.
I licked my lips. “I don’t know how…” I wasn’t sure how I was supposed to do this and that thought made me feel vulnerable. “But I want to please you…by learning how to do it,” I said quietly.
His nostrils flared with desire. “That’s my good girl,” he growled, making arousal practically leak down my thighs. Something within me sought and responded to the approval in his deep voice. “Kneel over my face so that you can rub your pussy against my mouth.”
His words made me flush. I began to move my body but then stopped. “Which way around should I be?”
Having to ask these questions made me feel slightly stupid, but he stroked my leg to reassure me. “Whatever way you like, kitten.”
After thinking for a second, I bent over him on all fours with my head facing his rigid cock. Then I slowly backed my body toward his face, looking down between my legs to see when my sex was level with his mouth.
His eyes were glued to my core, and he was breathing heavily in anticipation. “Lower yourself onto my face,” he commanded. “I want your pussy on my face.”
I felt so exposed like this but it also felt incredibly hot.
As I crouched my hips onto his face, his hands came up and grabbed me, holding me in position as his tongue swiped from my ass to my opening, and down to my clit, his lips finally latching onto my clit and making me cry out in pleasure.
His mouth sucked at my swollen tissues and his tongue massaged it. As he ate my pussy, I looked down between my legs and watched his mouth. The sight was nearly enough to make me come, but sensing that, he slowed down.
