He took me at my word, and I arched backwards, mouth agape, as he slipped his two fingers into me. He crooked them over, pressing on the wall of my p***y, and I clawed at his hand as I cried out. I felt him shifting, I felt him move my hand, I drew breath to protest, and then I froze, locked in place, as I felt his tongue on me.
"Oh... god..." I wailed.
He was slow. He was languid. He concentrated on the nub of nerves at the base of my c**t with the utter tip of his tongue, and the warmth of his breath flowing over my lips and crotch was exquisite. I whimpered, moaned as he stroked his fingers in and out of me in time with my own panting breaths. I vaguely heard the groan he gave as I tangled my fingers in his hair, holding him to me, grinding on him. I burned. I ached, my p***y cramping
