I rolled my dress up over my head, keeping the rear view clear and his mind racing. No touching yet, just the opportunity to pour honey on his canvas, anywhere he wanted, any curve or fold that could cradle the golden viscous sweetness long enough for his tongue to partake. A splash over my shoulders went racing down my spine, and paused to build a pool at the small of my back. No touching, I repeated, until my hips had time to circle and sway. I ground over him in subtle movements, shaking my ass cheeks, curling my spine back and forth, fucking the air with my pelvis, until at last my undulating broke the dam of surface tension, and a long, gentle river of honey dribbled down into my ass. He paused on his knees and took my queue to catch the stream in his mouth, then share it with the rest of my desirous body. Each fold of my lips became quickly engorged with sticky fluid, ripe from his mouth, wielded by his cold and refreshing tongue, spread erotically through each bite of my snatch. With his eyes closed, his face was now coated in a veil of syrupy lubrication. Each tongue flick produced a spray of cum that surged from my clit. He was truly eating me out this evening.
(via allmightymcqueer)
