He'd reached the highest pitch of awareness, everything in him aware of Amber. Her gasping breaths. Her writhing, eager motion against the bed, against his mouth. Her words. Make me feel good. His dick throbbed, hearing her say that, hearing her want that. God, yes. He'd make her feel good. Anything. Feeling her hands trace over the back of his head, and hearing her encouragements, Foreman let himself relax, catch his breath, and increase the pressure a notch.
A second later he drew back, turning his face toward Amber's damp thigh, and panted hard, forcing himself not to pull away entirely. Why the hell not yet? Why did she ask if she didn't want it? He barely heard Amber's next words, caught up in his own frustration, but a moment later he realized her hands were still guiding him closer, and she hadn't said stop. Different, that was all. Talking to him as he'd asked. Telling him. Foreman licked one long line along Amber's thigh, back toward her labia, tasting salt: sweat and arousal.
He took a breath, steadying himself, and went lower this time. He circled his tongue around her vagina, where she was even wetter, her taste stronger. Not pausing to tease for long, Foreman slipped his tongue inside her, the tip exploring slowly. His grip tightened on her thighs, then moved up to her hips, to steady her and himself. He was getting a crick in his neck, but that was the last thing on his mind. What mattered was Amber spreading her legs wider, reacting more strongly with each passing second. Foreman thrust his tongue deeper, feeling how tight she was with arousal. Imagining his dick inside her, now, feeling each pulse and throb of her around him--oh fuck, it'd be so good, so fucking good. Later. His breath was washing over her, his whole face damp and hot from rubbing against her, her pubic hair scratching his cheeks.
He knew now what it was. That Amber was sensitive, more than he'd ever expected, from her previous orgasm or simply from how strong her arousal was now. Foreman touched her just above her labia, not directly on her clit but higher up on her mons, where she'd still feel the pressure. He began massaging his fingertips in circles, the same motion that had brought Amber off so spectacularly in the living room. Nothing too firm, too insistent. With his tongue lapping upward, deeper inside her, and his fingers pressing, Foreman breathed as best he could through his nose and started a rhythm, so light and achingly slow, touching her at the same pace that he wanted, so badly, to feel around his dick as he thrust into her.
no subject
A second later he drew back, turning his face toward Amber's damp thigh, and panted hard, forcing himself not to pull away entirely. Why the hell not yet? Why did she ask if she didn't want it? He barely heard Amber's next words, caught up in his own frustration, but a moment later he realized her hands were still guiding him closer, and she hadn't said stop. Different, that was all. Talking to him as he'd asked. Telling him. Foreman licked one long line along Amber's thigh, back toward her labia, tasting salt: sweat and arousal.
He took a breath, steadying himself, and went lower this time. He circled his tongue around her vagina, where she was even wetter, her taste stronger. Not pausing to tease for long, Foreman slipped his tongue inside her, the tip exploring slowly. His grip tightened on her thighs, then moved up to her hips, to steady her and himself. He was getting a crick in his neck, but that was the last thing on his mind. What mattered was Amber spreading her legs wider, reacting more strongly with each passing second. Foreman thrust his tongue deeper, feeling how tight she was with arousal. Imagining his dick inside her, now, feeling each pulse and throb of her around him--oh fuck, it'd be so good, so fucking good. Later. His breath was washing over her, his whole face damp and hot from rubbing against her, her pubic hair scratching his cheeks.
He knew now what it was. That Amber was sensitive, more than he'd ever expected, from her previous orgasm or simply from how strong her arousal was now. Foreman touched her just above her labia, not directly on her clit but higher up on her mons, where she'd still feel the pressure. He began massaging his fingertips in circles, the same motion that had brought Amber off so spectacularly in the living room. Nothing too firm, too insistent. With his tongue lapping upward, deeper inside her, and his fingers pressing, Foreman breathed as best he could through his nose and started a rhythm, so light and achingly slow, touching her at the same pace that he wanted, so badly, to feel around his dick as he thrust into her.