The delicate flower of your sex parts for me, and I kiss down the sensitive underside of your legs, until I come to the juncture of your thighs. My mouth closes around your pussy, letting my thick tongue explore your folds. You whimper as it grazes your slit, licking from the cheeks of your ass up to the part of your lips, then back down in long, lazy strokes. My tongue enters you, pushing open your lips, making you whimper and squirm. You raise one of your hands to your mouth, biting down on your thumb to stop your cries as my tongue rubs the walls of your sex, tightly grapping the remaining arm rest with the other hand. My tongue wriggles inside you like a plump eel or a tiny wet cock, lapping up your juices as they begin to flow out of your body, and into my curly beard.
Somehow my knowing tongue finds all of those sensitive parts of your body, drawing noises from you as if I were playing an instrument. Until now, I've ignored your clitoris completely. My tongue finds it, coaxing it out from its hood, rubbing its sensitive head, and then closing my mouth on it. When my lips come into contact with it, you cry out, and your hands shoot down to my head, grasping my hair, tugging it hard. Your breaths are ragged, and your back is arched, your breasts heaving as my tongue worships your cunt. You cum violently, driving your hips forward, riding my tongue, as your pussy quivers, and your juices flow, and I drink them all up. You can't see. Your eyes flutter back as the orgasm rises up from your belly, and you clamp your eyes shut, tortured cries rising from your throat.
When you finally regain your breath, you feel an absence between your thighs. You open your eyes, and look around the room, but you are alone once more, the room feeling suddenly dark and empty in a way it hadn't been twenty minutes before. A small grin spreads across your lips, and you ask, "How in the hell did he do that?" but the only answer is the low hum of the computer on your desk.
