He doesn't say much. But you're here to fuck, not to talk.
You are on your back, naked on the bed. Not in the bed, on it. The duvet has been stripped off and you lie on the crisp, white sheet. He is on his side next to you. He has one leg hooked over one of yours, spreading you slightly. His left arm is around your shoulders. His right hand cups your left breast, his thumb gently rotates the nipple. His mouth is on yours. He is a good kisser. His cock is rigid against your thigh.
He speaks. A low sexy voice that you can feel starting deep down in his chest. He speaks to tell you what he is going to do to you. And then he does it.
"I'm going to kiss you all over. I'm going to kiss your eyes..."
He kisses your eyes.
"I'm going to kiss your ears..."
He kisses your ears.
"I'm going to kiss your shoulders..."
"I'm going to kiss your breasts..."
"And you nipples..."
"I'm going to kiss your ribs..."
"I'm going to kiss your belly..."
"I'm going to kiss your hips..."
"I'm going to kiss your mound..."
He kisses your smooth, hairless, perfumed mound.
He gently removes his hand from under your back and moves down the bed. You raise your knees and part your thighs, forming your body into that bowl shape, that human sculpture that cradles a lover when he mounts you.
He moves between your thighs and kisses the smooth skin of your inner thighs.
He kisses the tight tendons that run between thigh and groin, the dividing line, the equator between belly and buttocks.
He kisses your mound. Again.
Then he speaks again. His face is so close to your cunt that he seems to be talking to it. You can feel his voice.