The Iss

Her lips are parted, slightly pouting, succulent. She waits expectantly, her chest rising and falling rhythmically. He gazes at those lips, admiring them. They are soft, pink, inviting. They are moist, glistening, like the morning dew of spring.

He leans forward and blows gently. She gasps at the cool air. Those succulent lips part a little more.

She closes her eyes. He makes her wait. He's watching patiently. The sexual tension is building. She moans softly. Just as he senses she's about to speak, he kisses those moist lips. Gently. Just once. She moans louder, her passion clearly rising.

He waits some more, patiently, like the predator that he is. She is his helpless prey. His eyes stalk her every movement. Watching. Waiting for the most devastating moment to strike. He picks his moment. She jumps as his tongue swipes at one lip.

He draws a droplet of her moisture into his mouth, relishing the taste. Her breathing becomes laboured. Then, just as she's beginning to breathe out, his tongue swipes the other lip. She suddenly, sharply, breathes in even deeper. He tastes more moisture.

Those delicious lips twitch involuntarily, clearly hoping for more.

He makes her wait even longer. Her breasts rise and fall quickly now. She wants him. The air is now thick with tension. She whimpers loudly. He watches patiently, waiting for the next devilishly devious moment. Her defenses, those defenses she thought so cleverly built, crumble before his very eyes.

Those lips... oh those lips.

She is not bound by any rope, but his spell binds her tight. She cannot move. She is ripe. She is ready. Yet, just to seal the deal, his hands grip her wrists firmly.

He waits no longer, his patience is gone. She jumps as his mouth suddenly clamps onto those soft, succulent, pouting lips. No longer teasing, this is urgent. She whimpers. Too late, she suddenly realises her fate is sealed. She writhes, trapped, helpless. His tongue forces her lips to open wider, although they do not offer any resistance. That tongue is long, searching, exploring. His teeth graze those lips, offering a mixture of pain and pleasure.

She writhes and struggles, but his hands keep hers pinned. She cannot help but endure his urgent onslaught. He keeps per pinned there for what seems like hours, but is perhaps but a few minutes. Time itself has bated breath.

She begins to believe she just cannot take any more ... he slows down, lulling her slightly, although she still pants uncontrollably. And he's not finished with her yet.

He smiles to himself as he senses the sudden nuclear explosion deep within her core. His tongue has just delivered one final, devastating move...

It rasped slowly yet firmly across her clit.