Maddening

It’s maddening.

Feather-soft, perfect-pressure synchronized strokes of his tongue, repeating without waver in raindrop-rhythm, set my body alight. Creamy wet thickly drips from deep within, coating his chin, and the heat of his breath against my clit with every lick makes molten honey drip, sticky sweet and succulent.

Suck.

Please.

My hips tilt forward in silent demand, my slick assaulting his lips.

But he pulls from my push, still steadily tracing his tongue over and over and over, tasting me, leaving me hungry.

My heartbeat races even as I relax, muscles jumping while breathing slows, and I butterfly my thighs, giving in.

So close to the edge…

So far from going over.

Letting out the breath I’d been unaware of holding, I succumb to his silent ministrations with a shuddering moan.

I want… MORE.

My pussy clenches around the invisible penetration he is not giving me, seeking… Something. Anything. Faster, harder. Something. Something MORE.

But no.

He knows what I want. He has studied my body like no other before or since, and every twitch, every flex, every hitch of breath tells him all he needs to know. And he knows, right now, that despite my demands, he will take me farther, make me cum harder, if he says no.

The look in his eyes when they lock on mine tells me so.

And so I settle into my pillows, a jangling mass of relaxed nerves, breathing slowly with a racing heart, and succumb to his tongue, to the maddening steady strokes against my swollen clit, to the sensations washing over me.

Later… After a full-body orgasm, after the waves of pleasure have crashed over my consciousness, after the aftershocks no longer shake through my shivering limbs… Later, I will smile sleepily and drift away in the blissful afterglow of thorough satiation.

But that is later. Much later.

This is now.

And right now, this…

This.

This…

Is maddening.