“Will there be touching?”
“Yes.”
“Not just self-touching, but touching touching?”
“Well no then. No touching touching.”
“Oooohhhh. Disappointed.”
“Hmmmm. The things I do just for you.”
Tabletop fingertips reaching and grazing as beseeching pupils plead. Palm to palm, entwined and enraptured wandering casual and unattended through daily nothingness. Stray hair strands besmirching glowing cheeks teased away to rest restrained behind a convenient ear. Sensitive skin enlivening beneath a careless caress.
Rotating your head, stretching and shuddering as my hand strokes about your neck. Gasping as I cup a breast my smallest digit tracing the creased valley beneath. Moaning as tenderness gives way to capture. Squeezed buttocks, cheeks (wo)manhandled, pulled close, groins kissing, nipples stiff yet squished by my insistent embrace. Parted, panting lips blood-engorged and quivering in expectation as they await a claiming touch; a kiss, a nibble, a bite. Mouth drooling in want as my tongue explores every filling and cavity. Nails slashing down your back. Hair tugged. Thigh pressed between thighs to rub against your unquenchable wetness. Buttocks slapped, stinging.
Bite marks trailing down your neck as my mouth travels to feast on your breast. Finger dancing cunt to anus, spreading your blissful devotion, your need, your ache, your want as our torsos slip against each other. Pads sliding across your vulva gathering dew to smear across your thighs, your pubis, your hip bone. Marking you. Decorating you. Perfect paint to prettify your flesh. Nails digging into softness, twisting carelessly as they waltz wickedly leaving vibrant stains atop your skin. Nipple captured, lips tight, mouth insistent as it slurps hungrily on your offered teats. A swirling motion about your clit, thickened lips parted, glistening nirvana revealed in all its petulant, apprehensive glory. Stiff, arrowed, nail topped lances slanting within. Cunt kissed, muscle hugged, nectar coated as they rampage ever deeper into your ecstatic soul. Ravenous and demanding, desperate to caress every cell, to explore every hidden cum slick cavity as you capitulate to starstruck bliss.
“Is that better? Is that enough touching touching for you?
Oh please, do stop shaking your head you insatiable creature.”
