I smirked in the near darkness. I had the lace material around her knees when she closed her mouth and let nothing through her lips but air. A quietness took over that was sort of deafening, a third creature in the darkness besides us that was waiting to be shooed away. And I knew it would only be a manner of time. I let my mind go blank as I dropped her panties delicately on the floor near her skirt. That's when I placed my clammy hands on her thighs and really concentrated.
At first she just stared at me, more so out of a personal curiosity then intimidation, which is what I felt at first. Then I think she understood because she relaxed and allowed me to just exist, and I began to move as her body sunk into the softness of the chair and her mind melded into the pleasures of her self.
I inhaled. "I did truly miss this," I said quietly. I could almost hear the smile in her reply. "At least you are an honest man. If quirky. Though quirky can be good. Good."
I never knew her to talk so much. As I let my lips hover just centimeters from her skin I wondered why I had not approached her before. What is the sort of trepidation that keeps us from these sort of couplings, from desire? Two people, pooling their thoughts and desired touches into a moment of ecstasy and enjoyment. It should be simple.
I let my fingers walk slowly up her naked thighs, and her entire body shivered. I was met with the immediacy of prickled flesh, and I rubbed the palms of my hands flat over he skin until I felt her relax. Then my tongue was out, and quickly and unexpectedly I had my first taste. I knew she was wet, I could smell it on her. She tasted just like she smelled. Heady, lightly sweet on my tongue. I could taste her sweat and that musky flavor that always hits your tongue right after you linger from licking a pussy for just a moment. So I licked again, and again, taking cues from her moaning, from the melting away of her words.
My face drifted in closer, and I took the full length of her slit with the flat of my tongue. I could feel her body try and rise out of the seat, for her pleasure to escape her body in a ghost and float somewhere in the ether of that small room in order to watch us. I gently held her down by her thighs, moving upward towards her breasts and just touching them gently in a calming manner. I licked her again, and again, until the high of the initial touch came down, and her low cries and moans subsided to whimpers.
I let my hands massage the naked skin on her legs, to pull her into me as I went into her. She writhed in her seat, and I kept just enough weight on her to stay in control. My tongue dipped into her pussy, lapping at her wetness and pulling at her pleasure. With each small coo and hint I would change the sweeps of my tongue to match her, to give her a tempo that she could control just with her voice. And then, when she became used to my ministrations, to the licking of my tongue and the gentle kisses of my lips on her pussy, I lapped at her clit.
A scream, desperately caught by the hands that fluttered quickly to her mouth, sought to escape into the darkness. I licked again and again, unceasing, and the waves of her first orgasm rippled through her so strongly I could feel the effects from her thighs against my palms. I allowed her the full enjoyment of her release, dipping back into her as she came down, then just when the last ripple faded my tongue was there again to taste the hardened bead of pleasure. Again she came, weaker this time and yet her moans were louder, and she pressed her face deep in to the crook of her arm as I took my own enjoyment from being so deep in the center of her being.
There were words, and there were sounds, but I could not distinguish one from another as I continued, because my obsession was true and needed. It was for her, truly, the pleasure that she felt. But the deed of being there, with my tongue inside her, my mouth working her, my lips grazing her skin and the hair that grew upon it, that was all for me. My own desire was the taste, the smell, the act of extracting such a fountain of pleasure from another person. The room became thick with sounds, with smells, with the rippling shadows of her moving body. I let my fingers roam the naked skin once more, this time never ceasing, and my tongue dove in again and again to find the flavor in that wet place.
Time stopped, and we were alone in our actions as I sought to bring everything out of her that I could. I licked the lengths of her folds, tasting her in completeness. I brought the lips of her pussy between my lips and revered them, suckling gently and releasing. My hands never left the range of her legs and sides while my mouth did its duty, its desire, its job. It become nothing more than an effect after a while, an unconscious movement without form or practice. I did not know if I was good. I did not know if I was the best she ever had or what she thought to care about my place in her life or her world. It was enough to share in that moment and extract such sublime pleasure form someone and to taste the reality of joy between another person's legs.
After a symphony of orgasms faded and she came down from the high, that silence crept back in as though it had never left. She opened her eyes and smiled, finally staring back down at me.
"That was...I don't know if I have words for that," she said.
"I should say thank you. Truly its a passion of mine. I did say how much I enjoyed doing that. You were just kind enough to give in to my selfishness," I replied.
She laughed at that, and stood up on shaky legs. I supported her as she slipped on her panties and skirt once more, and we returned to the party. No kiss, no hug, just a simple and enjoyable exchange. But I knew it would happen again, and I would seek others. It was an experience that should be passed on. We returned to the party in silence, smiles on both our faces, and yet we were the only ones. I wanted it again, already.
