He'd never gone too far with her, for fear of damaging their friendship, but some of the most passionate kisses, and the most intense responses he'd ever received had come from this woman. Tonight was destined to be a wild time. He could just feel it. It was a very animal feeling, and he had been growling in anticipation all day. That was one interesting thing about this fiery girl; she brought out the animal in him.

All these thoughts, his reverie, was broken; he'd been stroking her firm shoulders, and she, her concentration broken, had leaned her head back against his stomach. He transferred his stroking fingers from her shoulders onto her neck. Her neck was so soft, the skin milky white, and, around her hairline, layered with short, soft, brown hair. "Kissable," he thought, and then he knelt at her side, and did.

As his lips touched her neck, just below her ear, a soft moan escaped her lips. It was just what he wanted to hear. He loved and listened for that sound, and tonight it was long and drawn out. Instead of her usual quiet pleasure, she turned her head quickly to face him. Shock flashed across his face as her lips sought his for a hungry kiss.

As lips touched, he put his arms around her, and pulled her close to him, almost pulling her off of her chair. The kiss intensified and her moans intermingled with his. She took a drastic step. She climbed down, off of her seat, tightening her grip on his shoulders, and pulled him closer to herself. His heart was pounding in his chest, but he didn't hear it. All his concentration was being focused on her. Her lips on his, the feel of her back against his hands, the smell of her, the taste of her mouth.

A wave of purest passion washed over him, as, much to his wonderment, she pushed him to the floor, flat on his back. Her lips found their way back to his, and smothered him again. His hands wandered down her body, from the small of her back to her legs, covered by silky stockings and a modest skirt, now pulled up in a far less-than-modest way, baring her lacy panties. His hands idled leisurely, caressing her waist, her thighs. Her kisses ceased abruptly, but only to expose her neck and newly exposed chest to his kisses.

She had quickly unbuttoned her shirt, and now it hung open, exposing her breasts to his eager mouth. His lips quickly surrounded one nipple, gently nibbling, kissing, holding it between his tongue and upper teeth, suckling. She moaned louder, and ground herself harder against his midsection. The motion aroused him further, even though he thought himself near his peak.

Eagerness filled him with great strength, and he rolled her over onto her back with a single fluid motion. He peeled off his own shirt, and pressing down onto her, wedged himself between her now-spread legs. Their partially clothed bodies writhed together in pleasure, and he, pressing down onto her, pushed his lips over hers. He was unable to use his hands, as they were holding him up, but she had no such encumbrance. She allowed her hands to wander down his chest, to his stomach, and down to his pants, where she briefly struggled with the buttons on his jeans. Soon his fly was open, and her hand snaked into the opening.

When she touched him, the state of his arousal startled them both. She could fairly feel him twitching underneath her hand. As he continued to smother her chest in kisses and occasional nibbles, she worked her hand underneath the thin layer of his underwear. When her flesh met his, he started, and nearly cried out. A fire had shot through his body the likes he'd never felt before. He knew he had to do something, or risk losing control too soon.

He extricated himself from her caress, and moved slowly down her body, to place himself, on his elbows, between her legs. He took hold of her panties, and pulled them slowly down, as she lifted herself off the floor to assist him. With them out of the way, he spread her legs wider apart, and pushed his face closer to her awaiting womanhood. He inhaled, and savored the scent of her arousal. It quickened his already booming pulse, and brought forth more of the animal in him. He growled, and lowered his lips to her. After a preparatory kiss, his tongue slid out of his mouth, and into her, tasting her, and eliciting a loud moan from her. She put her hands on his head and pushed him against her. His tongue slid further into her, and she called out yet again.

Hearing her cries of ecstasy, he continued to work his tongue over her most sensitive parts. Her soft moans and cries only made him happier and lustier. He moved faster and ran his tongue over those places he knew would drive her crazy. It was all he could do to keep his mouth upon her, with her bucking so wildly. He knew what she wanted, and he wanted it too. Nothing made him feel nearly so good as pleasing his partner, and for it to taste so good as well was a double treat.

He knew her moment had arrived, for the first time that night, when he plunged his tongue into her again, and felt the first quiverings of orgasm. He kept his tongue inside her when he felt her insides clutching at him, and rode the spasms out, savoring every drop of the sweet juice that was pouring from her. She was just shy of screaming, as she pressed his face further into her, and he kept up a constant movement of his tongue on her clitoris. She shuddered finally, and lay back, quivering slightly. He leaned up on his elbows, and smiled a sated, some would say smug smile. Nothing got him hotter than making a woman come.

There were looks in both of their eyes that said no matter how good that was, there was a whole lot more to come. Even panting, she looked like she was ready for more. And he certainly was as well. He reached down and pulled off his pants and underwear in one motion, finally releasing his restrained manhood. He looked up at her face again, and smiling a similar smile, moved slowly up her body. She smiled up at him as his face lowered to hers, and their lips met. The kiss was long and passionate, and it did nothing but fan his lust. He felt her hand slide down, between their bodies, and touch him. He had to fight for control again, but the urgency subsided enough to keep him from spontaneously combusting.

But not for long. She wasn't touching him just to touch. She was guiding him towards her waiting cleft Apparently she wanted him inside her as much as he wanted to be there. He moved his hips to accommodate her, and felt her place the head of his cock at the very entrance to the nirvana he sought. With a great deal of willpower, he slowly, very slowly, entered her. She gasped, her arms and legs encircling him, trying to pull him into her faster. But he had other ideas. Once he was barely inside of her, about an inch or so, he stopped, and looked down at her blissful but hungry face.

"Do you want it?" he asked her in a husky voice, betraying some of his own desire.

"Oh, God, yes," she panted.

"Tell me," he commanded.

"Oh, fuck me. Fuck me hard!" she cried out.

Just at that moment, he drove into her, pushing with all the force he could muster, sinking down into her, and eliciting a cry from her. He knew he was going to have to take it slow, but that didn't bother him too much. Slow and steady may not win races, but it made for some of the best lovemaking. He began to move out of her, slowly lifting himself as he did so. After a few gentle strokes, he remained inside of her, and just rocked, so that the motion moved him inside of her, but he never really left. Just light rocks back and forth, and he could still feel the insides of her clutching to him. "Still recovering," he thought, and levered himself up onto his palms, and pulled slowly out of her, stopping less than an inch from leaving her. He then pushed into her again, this time eliciting less of a scream and more of a moan of lusty pleasure. He then set up a rhythm of steady strokes, moving deeper into her, and leaning down again to kiss her. She wrapped her legs around him again, and pulled him tighter into her. His pace increased, and he pushed into her as fast and as deep as he could. She frantically kissed him, and alternately called out, heightening his arousal. He could feel the impending eruption, and moved faster and faster. He could tell there was no turning back now. He pulled away from her face to get as much leverage as he could and he slammed into her again and again, each time drawing a moan or a cry from her. He could feel her starting to tighten around him again, and that was all he could take.

As he slammed into her one last time, the orgasm took him and shook him. He called out, the first time he had all night. The come gushed out, nearly filling her. It felt like he came and came. It felt like gallons. Of course he knew it wasn't but such a release was a powerful thing. He collapsed against her. She sought out his lips with her own and kissed him passionately. He just lay there,kissing her, feeling himself slowly losing his rigidity, and reveling in the feeling of being inside of her.

He opened his eyes to see her looking at him. The hunger that had been in those eyes was still there, burning bright. He smiled, rolled away from her, onto his back and beside her. She rolled onto her side next to him, and, resting her head on his chest, stroked his chest and stomach. He looked down at her, laying next to him, and sighed with great contentment. But it seemed she was far from content. Her hand had, in fact, begun to move down, past his waist, and now was touching his semi-hard cock. She played with it as though it were her toy. Even with the exertions of the last half-hour, he found himself beginning to rise to the occasion. But it seemed she had her own ideas about what should happen next, for she rose from beside him, and moved to kneel next to his hip.

He could hardly believe it when she leaned down and took his now hard dick into her mouth. The sensation was wonderful. He'd never experienced the like before, and it was certainly up on his list of truly pleasurable things. She lolled her tongue over his manhood, and bathed his balls with long licks. Then her mouth surrounded the end of his shaft, slowly sliding down. She began to pump him in and out, her fingers digging into his thigh. He moaned, his hands clutching at the open air, and his nails nearly gouging scratch marks in the floor. She came up for a breath, and gasped "Oh God, you taste so good." before dipping her head down again to take his entire length in her mouth, her tongue swirling around him as she pulled upward, the combined sucking and licking bringing out a loud, low groan. The sensations were preparing to overtake him, and force an early end to the fun, so he motioned her to stop. With some playful resistance, he pushed her onto her back, and positioned himself with his face mere inches from her, between her thighs. He loved this view, and the he knew that after the intensity of their lovemaking, the orgasm he would give her would be immense.

He leaned down, and kissed at the tender flesh, all red and exposed from the rough treatment he had dealt out earlier. His lips were gentle yet insistent, and his tongue dextrous and untiring. Soon she was moaning again, and he could hardly wait for her to get off again. He refrained from pushing his tongue into her, but paid close attention to her clit. That was a little toy he loved. He would take it between tongue and teeth, and suckle at it, as though he were a baby, at it's mother's breast. He could just lay and suckle like that for hours, and often wished he really could. It seemed to have the desired effect upon her, because her moans intensified, and she began to buck her hips into his face. He held onto her, and forced his mouth over her clit, and lapped at it. She cried out, and, spasming, stopped bucking. He could see the effect the orgasm was having on her. She was awash in pure pleasure, as wave after wave of sensation and release washed over her. It was a blissful sight.

He gave her a few minutes to ride out the effects of this most recent of orgasms. She was just beginning to get back to breathing regularly when he patted her lovingly on the thigh.

"Roll over, baby," he said, "Kneel in front of me."

She moved in front of him, facing away, and raised her sweet ass up off the ground. When she was kneeling, he moved in close behind her, and, pushing her gently forward, moved his hips right up to touch her. He felt her hand move in to touch him from underneath her, as she leaned down. He felt her stroking him, and moving him closer to her. When she had placed him against her opening, she leaned full force onto her arms, and, looking over her shoulder at him, smiled.

He reached down, and took hold of her waist, and gently pushed himself into her. The sensation, as usual, was wonderful. The position lent a different, exotic feel to her, and he reveled in it as he moved slowly in and out of her, pulling her onto him by her waist. As she became accustomed to him again, he started to move quicker. His strokes were deeper, and he felt himself slam into her again and again. He could hear her breathing heavily, and feel her clamping down on him. He knew it was going to be a while before he was ready, and kept up a quick stroking pattern. She was still riding the effects of her most recent orgasm, and as such, was much closer than he.

He felt himself getting closer, aided by the action of her muscles, working around his cock. He quickened his pace, feeling the flesh of her ass slamming against his pelvis, and took a better hold on her waist. Between his pulling, and her rocking back against him, there was no way he could hold out. He felt the pressure build, build to it's breaking point, and then the release. He pushed deep into her, holding her against him, feeling himself being drained into her. He wasn't the only one enjoying it, as she leaned back harder, and attempted to pull more and more come from him.

He knelt there for a long thirty seconds before he moved further. Then it was to pull out from her, and collapse next to her. She rocked back on her haunches and looked at him, laying there, wasted and exhausted. She lay down next to him, and, resting her head on his chest, listened to his heartbeat as his pulse returned to normal, and his breathing resumed it's normal pace. They lay like that for a long time, just content to be in one another's company, and not have anywhere to be other than right there, in each others arms.

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His warm hand touched her ankle and followed a line up to her thighs. She woke up to the sensation. Her pleasure hindered by the worry that her legs weren't thin enough. His tongue on the slight hallow of her hip made a icy tingle flow through her … the power of his lips on her flesh excited all of her at once. Open her eyes and place her palm on his hair. And for a moment, she pretended that she was still dreaming.

He sat on the edge of the chaise, partly turned to look at her directly. Her thoughts were manic … she wanted him but, fear had her. Is there any possible way of having him and not be wrong? The question she could not deny asking herself. It did not matter, she would not say no. In that moment of determination, she wanted to find reassurance that she was not dreaming; that what was happening was real.

She told her friends that she was not going to have an affair, she knew herself better than that. But this, what they were, was not about lust. Almost from the moment she met him, she wanted to know what it was to kiss him, to be held by him. She was certain it could not be lust — the only lust she has ever known was hot, and prickly, and waned with orgasm. This desire for him was like nothing else. Anger, endearment, confusion and dismissal ran course through her mind. The only power she to fight her desire for him was fear…not about her husband finding out, but about this married man refusing her. She did not know his feelings and the possibility of rejection wounded her. With this fear, she could restrain herself from ravishing him. The desire for him grew, despite her motivations to get rid of these feelings for this man she should not want.

The unspoken attraction pulled them together. This attraction also burned her: her conscience, love life and faith. There was the safety in the quiet struggle … like she could be free to feel exactly what she wanted to feel without anyone knowing. Perhaps it was too late to ask whether she should have allowed the mental compromise. For now, she did not have the desire to struggle against her feelings for him.

Before tonight, she tried to content herself with pleasure of touching him. Like enjoy the sensation of the forbidden fruit without tasting it. The departure day was soon — it made her more anxious about returning home, leaving this place, leaving him. It was the stolen caresses that fueled the fire that slowly consumed her failing morality. As the heat from his body wrapped around her, she entered into the beauty of the moment. They came to this moment though hours of talking, enjoying each other company. They had a union of souls … she and he became the world, and no one else matter or cared. He was connected to her, and even if today was their last day, she was his, and he was hers. The sweetness of what was happening filled the painful emptiness that into which he fit perfectly. Her fear faded and, for one pure moment, she knew what is it like to love — it was the desire to fill and complete the one who has made you whole.

His eyes showed no evidence of the battle that confused her. The fragrance of gentle flowers and the sound of the surf set a seductive scene. He could not blame her; the moment was right for what was to become of them. Before this night, he felt the presence of a hesitation so heavy that he was sure she did not want to cross the line and go too far. But now, with so few hours left, he would risk hurting what they were — to have he wanted.

She wanted to spend her life kissing him. Warm waves of passion bathed her eyes, breasts, hands, back, and her very center. All felt alive, new, aching to be kissed with those lips. She could not recall ever having a dream that made her feel like this. She gave herself up to the moments as they fell like the rain, in concert with each other, swelling like a string quartet. She heard music without the power of instruments.

They created the dark and silent place were the senses are more aware. Each touching, tasting, and taking in the scent of their lover … was making the memories that would have to last their life apart. Whenever he is with her, especially in this place filled with only the liquid sounds of two lovers in their first embrace, he was free. The newness of her sent strong currents of energy through him, his mind fought against the urgency of his body. The anticipation was delicious. Right now, he desperately wanted just her. Only twice when she seem to move away a bit did his mind threatened to shame him back to the sacred vows. The ones that he swore to someone else. But each time, he would resume the probe of her mouth with his tongue, stroking the thin lycra that covered her breasts. He was all here with her. And it was quiet as before. 1 He could remember when he was in high school. It was a time that kissing was a way to distract his girl from the awkward struggle of undoing the hooks. Then, in college, he began to realize the power the kiss had over a young lady's objections. He fell in love with the look of the woman in his arms, weakened and melting after he kissed her. Now, he was melting. He did not mean to be this open to her, to trust her like this. But it felt too good, giving so much, so openly to her. He did not want to hold back. At that, his mind silenced and he kissed her deeply wrapping his arms around her, keeping her still just enough.

His desire grew to caused him pain in the position that he was in. twisted, seated at the edge. The mouths hotly played together as he laid himself along beside her, stretching out his legs and then fitting her chest and mouth on top his own. Her breaths became soft pants. His hands guided her hips to meet his. On top of him, she swayed and rocked instinctively, almost imperceptibly…. like her hips were riding little waves.

Her mind toggled between wanting to remain in this kiss and passing the point of no return. She thought that if she could keep her panties on, that there would be less to recover from. That they might be able to salvage their friendship and save themselves from having a secret that would devastate their families. They could stop here; kissing without sex would not be like having an affair. Ultimately, she wanted to keep this pure and sex always seems to carry emotional baggage that a kiss did not. She like what they were, but how could that be when we are home again, if this continued. His hands were on her buttocks, pressing and smoothing the skin, spreading and cupping them. Warm glistening moisture from her inner lips moistened her panties. If she were with her husband, she would have taken them off by now. But here with a man she has only known for a little while, they were the last door between her as wife and adulteress.

He turned slightly on one hip and his right hand maneuvered between them to touch her clitoris. When she moaned, he broke the spell of the kiss to look into her eyes…. his lips curving slightly in amusement at her innocent confusion and complacent submission. His left arm angled and propped his head. He could the gray crests of the black ocean. The sun had set since he walked onto her porch. The ocean air carried the scent of her, waving soft whiffs under his nose. Without thought, he tasted the wet fingers. Carried by the wanting, he moved down her clothed body, with his hands fixed to the sides of her panties. She slid her legs up to impede the removal, but he was oblivious to the objection. His hands covered her bent knees and press them outward. Once again, she felt his tongue, this time on the smoothest of her skin. Time stood still as the tiny flutters of orgasmic pulses rippled through her. The soft black curls barely contain the sensitive swelling. It seemed to being reaching up to kiss him. His whole hand touched her vagina, then stroked the line from her pink pearl to her center. One long thick finger disappeared within her sweet walls…she was melting all over again.

His sun kissed white flesh made beautiful contrast to her brown skin. Sounds of his chest hair on her breasts echoed the rhythm of his legs rocking between her own. Her chest heaved into his as she breathed. Her hands rubbed at the muscles of his backside, then soft lines from her nails invigorated his thighs. His cock was strained and taut. This time, the moan came from him. There was a moment of silent stillness, full of peace. He left the warmth of his kiss on her lips to move down her body. He took the pink-topped chocolate nipple into his mouth. The feel of her breast in his mouth made her shiver. It was an eternity of caressing — the full mounds with his hands and face. Then, at last, he left the dark summit to take a mouthful of the smooth caramel skin and pressed his stiff flesh past the moist petals into the pink silky glove. The motion were long rolling crests of rising and falling, tender peaks that broke over and again. His face, hands, legs worked to stimulate the rest of her body, forcing his memory into her soul. Stormy sea — wet and powerful, relentless and awesome. Her heart pounded like rain — she felt as though she was dying and being born at the same time. Lightening and thunder flashed and died. The calm water yielded to the waves again building on the horizon. Her arms and legs hugged him as they created a new tide of heat and friction. The sex and feel of someone new, someone who had an intimate awareness of her even when her clothes were on, made her giddy. She was drowning in the waves of pleasure and orgasms, one sewing into another until she felt the surge in her fingertips. Her energy flushed over her in pulsing waves joining and intensifying his own. The power of his release flowed from his head, spine from the base of his cock and erupted within her … the rhythmic concentric wave of her sweet muscles massaging his throbbing volcano. Everything within him, set free.

The morning was hours away. The warm Mexican air carried the sounds of the surf and footsteps on the wet sand. The art of the vanilla and mocha bodies adorn the lounge chair. The nude lovers lay still. "She is asleep," he thought, with his arms curled protectively around her. The moments passed with her deep sighs and peaceful stillness. The quiet movements became more frequent, and soon she was sitting beside him, he could see the blue light of the moon shining on her bare chest. He became roused and a little annoyed knowing that the lovers beside the shore could see her. He reached for her but she just smiled and held her place. For only a moment was she standing, in full view. With precise calculation, she folded her legs on either side of his knees and began to kiss his soft penis. She could take all of him in this state. She let the heat of her mouth and the full blanket of her tongue stir the flesh to life. Once attentive, she began to suck with little effort, gently arousing him. Her mouth worked him with full long draws. He was content: eyes closed with his hand stroking her hair and cheeks. With each stroke up, her mouth became more resistant, every so often pressing the tip of her tongue in the grove where the shaft and the head triangulate. All the while, her hands manipulate his testicles, her fingers dancing in his hair, rasping her nails in the long wavy strands. She enjoyed the pleasure she gave him. The salty-sweet mix of their sex lingered on him … the taste of them thrilled her. The smooth glands of his head was nearly too much to bear as it pressed into the soft palate, the pressure made her instinctively swallow. Her miniature vacuum made his cock throb and twitch in her mouth. Sweet drops of clear foretaste preceded the final surge of blood into his engorged member. He loved each delectable sensation given by such a strong willed woman tamed between his legs.

She never grew tired of bathing his harden thick cock between her lips … only after he decide that he could not come that way did he reach to kiss her warm salty lips. She eagerly shared the flavor with him, all the while bringing her dark fringed labia above his hips. She moved her smooth flesh on his swollen cock, stroking it with the pink pillow within. His hands grasped the curve of her hips and brought them forward. The soft lips made a wet kiss on his stomach, and then a line as he moved her towards the tip of his shaft. Sweet velvety thrust joined them. She took to the task of riding her full hips on the head of his firm penis. Her sex circles slowed, and she lowered to sit completely on his cock without bruising her tender loins. Fully seated, she rested her motion to allow her beautiful sex to be stretched. Then, with little motions, she rocked side to side. He was in ecstasy as she began to make the ripple of her vaginal muscles hug his erect scepter. Full pumps of her thighs sent her vagina complete up and down the shaft. Her precious design manipulating the glans to it own epitome … soon he would have to stop her and fuck her at his own rate. But for now, he enjoyed getting to the point near hypersensitivity. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. With a low groan he took hold of her. He brought her hips down as he thrust himself deeper within. Her breasts shook and dance at the percussion of his grind. Careless touches and licks were passed between them. This fevered pitched sung out — her large breasts caressing him, crushing him when her arms wrapped around his head; firm wet thigh working against one another; loud sound kisses on his chest and face. Her climax peaked; each ring of her sweet cleft vibrated and shook, tugging at his rigid cock. He, however, was not ready to slow. He alternated between bucking and making little circles with his hips slightly off the seat; his penis rubbed new delightful sensations against her rippling walls. Her back muscles trembled and relaxed. She muffled her sigh with a mouthful of his hickey-ed shoulder. The few beachcombers that made up their audience began to turn and leave the direct view of the lovers on the veranda. She lay with her head at his chest, still enjoying the pleasurable little waves of orgasm. 1 With a light peck and a gesture, he motioned for her to go inside. She nearly got to the bedroom door when his hands seized her. "Here." His hand went up her spine from her curvy bottom, directing her torso across the arm of the sofa. Now, her full pouty lips, crimson from the sex, were presented to him. His hand stroked his penis while he watched the glistening hair move as she pressed her legs together. "Open for me." She widened her stance a little, tipping up her hips to receive him. He squeezed into her, slowed by the swollen engorgement of her vagina. The new friction recapture his full erection, and he felt the familiar ache that he was looking for. His hands reach to the front of her thighs, gripping them while she returned every thrust he gave. Their rhythm was perfect. Beads of sweat ran tiny streams down his face and back as she rolled her nipples between her fingers. The spanking pats of his hips against her bronze moon spurred him on. He struggled to watch the pink flesh piston into her. His arms stretched to fondle her fleshy rosebud until his white explosion ended.

He let his full weight rest on her across the sofa, their legs dangled haphazardly off the side. He woke to find her nearly free from beneath him, then again at the touch of a warm cloth around his cock. She bathed him with great care and attention, her body still damp and wrapped in a towel. He tried to continue to sleep, but found himself looking in awe at this woman. "What am I going to do with you?" She smiled, "more of the same, I guess." It was not long before her brown frame warmed his skin to slumber until day.

If he wanted to keep this secret, he would have to work hard to hide the dark red mark on his shoulder. He had been through similar snares before, and figured that his wife would be oblivious to the little signs of indiscretions. But then, he had never let it go this far before. The other times were when the marriage was still new and a great deal of alcohol was involved. As long as he did not "fuck" a woman, he did not consider himself cheating. A blowjob was the same as a kiss, just lower. And he always kissed his female friends, at one time or another. This, sex, was a lot more risky. Women tend to get caught up in the "what does this mean" part. Not to mention the fact that he had not used a condom in 10 years. At least she was married. She risked her family too. He looked at the clock, 12:28p, damn. He was sure that his wife had called his room by now. He searched for an answer: went out for lunch, breakfast, whatever, all day. If he bought some gifts, that would cover the morning and afternoon. However, if she called last night…. He dismissed the possibility, " she won't look for something she was not ready to find." And with that, he thought no more about home for the rest of the day.

She handed him a glass of juice and his pants. "Good morning, or afternoon…" her cheery face was ginger red. Zipping up, he caught her staring at his hips. "You are red. Are you blushing?" She laughed. He let his body do what came natural. His arms hug her waist, and pull her down on his knees as he sits. His lips press on hers. Their tongues work like two horny teenagers while his hands invade the narrow space between her bra and skin. Her silent protest fades quickly and soon she removes all the clothing on her breasts. The perky milk chocolate nipples feel like gumdrops. The tiny textures around them contract in his mouth. He lifts a tan orb in each hand to appraise the fullness… he would never complete the task of licking every inch of her breasts. Instead, he focuses on the crowns. Every so often enjoying the sweet liquid taste that sprinkled from the centers on their pink tips when he nurses. She is much more vocal than last night, each moment; she lets go of more of her inhibitions. The effects of his oral talents are felt within both of them. Soon she is between his legs, her body arced to kiss him and press her belly against his bulging crotch. Her hands work at his pants, and, once again, he delights in the feel of her face on his waking prick. This time she works efficiently. Her pointed tongue dance on his scrotum, licking hot wetness on the thick tubule passage found under them. Her left hand pumping his large stem, bringing the slack fold over the rim of its head. He did not need to be worked from flaccid; he woke up nearly ready for her. He was hard enough to enter her, and this time, he was intent on wearing her out for a while.

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