Photograph property of 21Sextury. Of course.
I sit on the bed and watch from here. Mai continues doing what she’s compelled to do. (Well, what she’s been instructed to do.) All limbs and hands, fingers and sex, hard nipples, goosebumped skin...perspiration, saliva, juices, effluvia...and motion, motion...motion.
Even though she’s pretty much silent...save for soughing and moaning, the tiniest of tittered complaints...I can hear voice in my head. It’s melodic, sing-song... Enchanting.
“Talk to me,” I whisper.
“What do you want me to say?” she replies softly. Of course. “Do you want me to tell you some more about how I want you to be fucking me...?” Now she’s growling.
And I swear, there’s another wink here.
“I will fuck you,” I tell her.
“Hard,” she insists.
“However the hell I want to be fucking you, my dear.”
Her fingers pause...dig in...then seem compelled to push deep.
“I absatively, posolutely guarantee that when you’re jetting back to the UK, you’ll be glowing in your first-class seat, smug in knowing that you’ve been properly fucked by a Canuck.”
“You’re going to eat creampies out of my pussy.”
“I am.”
Shaking her head, Mai goes to town a little more furiously.
“Patience is a virtue.”
“Patience,” she spits, “was a girl in school. I hated her.”
“Would it help if I put a down-payment on what you want?”
She looks right at me. “Such as...?”
“Your choice: I can join you with my fingers...we can snog...or I can suckle.”
Cupping a breast, she provides me not only with her answer, but with my first feast.
“I’ll provide you fair warning,” I say to her, licking the nipple, feeling the cold metal on my tongue. “You’ll be spoiled forever...”
I swear Mai doesn’t breathe for a good minute or so. And her frigging goes to ‘molasses’ state. But as I twirl my tongue on her distended nubbin, as I explore the areole, as I prepare to feed at her, a low, rumbling hum issues up from her chest, through her throat and then rolls around inside her mouth...
...until at last, its expelled...along with her stoppered breath.
And now I suckle.
Mai’s breasts are augmented. She was the ideal candidate for implants; her ‘cookies’ were enormous, outsized and out of proportion to the small mass of her tits. Now... Now they’re glorious.
And as I minister to her, I make this opinion of mine perfectly clear to her.
“Oh...” she whines, voice reed-thin, faint. “My titty...”
The truth is, her breast is mine. I am adoring it, worshiping her. In this very small place, concentrating on this focused area.
Mai stares. She doesn’t just look down at me, doesn’t just ‘gaze’. She’s staring.
Truth is, I perform magic here.
To me, a woman’s body is a place where magic is revealed, the great temple of salacious and prurient intent, where flesh meets need and wonder abounds.
Certainly I’m mesmerized by what’s in my hand, past my lips, on my tongue.
“What are you doing...?” she sings, both delight and anticipation and fractious desire welling up in the tone of her voice.
“I’m prestidigitating.”
“Huh...?” she laughs.
“I’m performing magic.”
“On my boobie.”
“Something like that.”
She gasps.
“You like.”
“Blimey...”
“Yeah,” I laugh back. “Let’s give you some more of that...”
Between bouts of closing her eyes and looking extremely beatific, Mai continues to stare. As I do my stuff.
“It’s like-” Her chest rises and falls faster...then she relaxes. “Other guys suck on my tits. But you...”
I rise up and kiss her. Gently. Softly. Almost perfunctorily. “Is it the difference between one lover understanding your clit and another not...?”
“Yes.”
“I know,” I nod, going back to her breast, returning to the wonder there.
