[ much better—but still not quite what she wants. maybe nothing can live up to the enormity of what she wants. nevertheless, Sprezzatura gasps in the affirmative, her cunt clenching on the air and her clit throbbing in his mouth.
she loves that pull. ]
Da—oh, da.
[ as she's clumsily trying to get her thighs open and pulled back even wider, it makes her seem a little like a flower coming into bloom, all spread limbs and petals. her tail, which lays limp over the edge of the cushion between them, twitches up the inside of one of his thighs. ]
[Maybe he can't live up to the enormity of what she wants, but he can at least make this last as long as either of them can hold out. A long, langourous suck, a wet release. The same again — running with the metaphor, it would not be unlike trying to pull nectar from a flower. Again and again.
He can't speak, of course. But he can spread his own legs a little farther apart, sinking incrementally lower by doing so (only possible thanks to leaning against the chaise, at that), to encourage wherever her tail is drifting.]
[ nectar... well, he earns something like that. heady and slick on his lips and chin, while Sprezzatura's breath comes in little gasps as if of pain, and her thighs jolt again and again. electrified movement.
the lower he sinks, the wider his spread, the warmer she burns. if she could only look at him from another angle and appreciate the bend of his back and the tightness of his trousers on his backside, but like this, she is full up on appreciation. can barely breathe for all her hoarse cries, murmurations.
into the open vee of his trousers. around the heavy throbbing length she finds there, waiting. she begins to stroke him in time with each suck. pull, release. pull, release.
babbling: ] Make me shine, ohh. Play with my mole, touch it—
[He feels like his own face is on fire, and that has nothing to do with how he's practically buried between her legs, sucking at her clit. An interruption comes when she tugs at his aching cock, desperate for attention, Sholmes allowing himself a short gasp, his lips and chin shining from her.]
God...
[Ohh, that feels divine. Addictingly so. He can understand why people kill over this.
Touch her mole? Her hole? Would she care if it were either? His hand clumsily joins him, venturing in just beneath his face to nudge his fingers experimentally against.... her hole.]
[ and the stroking continues. the coil moves sinuously up, down, up, down, a squeeze. and it continues. only faltering when his fingers nudge between and beneath, sliding against slickness which has begun to drip towards the base of her tail.
oh?? he certainly is not a shy boy. her own gasp turns into a raspy laugh. ]
[It's all a pause at once, then, dizzying. He blinks, distracted by her stroking tail and her wet cunt and her words, trying the best he can to peer over and across at her.]
Oh.
[Moves his fingers away from her hole, then. Less embarrassed than he is owlish about the whole thing, and seeks her mole, instead.]
[ he can't precisely touch her mole without touching her rim, and vice versa. so this is whining just to whine. adoringly, she picks her fingers through his hair, curls a tuft of bang around one finger, tugs sllllllloooowly on his cock. ]
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finalflight2024-09-12 10:58 am
no subject
she loves that pull. ]
Da—oh, da.
[ as she's clumsily trying to get her thighs open and pulled back even wider, it makes her seem a little like a flower coming into bloom, all spread limbs and petals. her tail, which lays limp over the edge of the cushion between them, twitches up the inside of one of his thighs. ]
I'M BACK
He can't speak, of course. But he can spread his own legs a little farther apart, sinking incrementally lower by doing so (only possible thanks to leaning against the chaise, at that), to encourage wherever her tail is drifting.]
:pinkmoon:
the lower he sinks, the wider his spread, the warmer she burns. if she could only look at him from another angle and appreciate the bend of his back and the tightness of his trousers on his backside, but like this, she is full up on appreciation. can barely breathe for all her hoarse cries, murmurations.
into the open vee of his trousers. around the heavy throbbing length she finds there, waiting. she begins to stroke him in time with each suck. pull, release. pull, release.
babbling: ] Make me shine, ohh. Play with my mole, touch it—
[ did she say mole or hole? well. either way. ]
:pinksun:
God...
[Ohh, that feels divine. Addictingly so. He can understand why people kill over this.
Touch her mole? Her hole? Would she care if it were either? His hand clumsily joins him, venturing in just beneath his face to nudge his fingers experimentally against.... her hole.]
Re: :pinksun:
oh?? he certainly is not a shy boy. her own gasp turns into a raspy laugh. ]
Mmmmmole.
no subject
Oh.
[Moves his fingers away from her hole, then. Less embarrassed than he is owlish about the whole thing, and seeks her mole, instead.]
no subject
[ he can't precisely touch her mole without touching her rim, and vice versa. so this is whining just to whine. adoringly, she picks her fingers through his hair, curls a tuft of bang around one finger, tugs sllllllloooowly on his cock. ]
Very gentle.