Her thighs dangling over my shoulders. The sweetest position, biting down on her lips, the strands of my beard massaging and prickling her soft skin, her thighs squeeze in time with her delighted murmurings.
My tongue, parting her sacred space with my tumultuous swirling dance.
Her aching need, growing, evidenced by her bucking hips and hungered vocal demands, spewing forth from her mouth as I taste her fountain from within her tight, silken folds.
Holding her hard, she is locked in my vice-like grip without mercy. As I keep her tumbling over and over towards the bliss of oblivion.
