A love letter to Cunnilinigus
Imagine laying on your back, with my hands on the insides of your knees, spreading your legs open slowly until your vulva opens up like a flower in front of me. You are a beautiful buffet for my utmost enjoyment, the essence of femininity.
The tip of my tongue lightly presses on the labia majora until it trails down to the vaginal opening. My tongue pushes into your softness insistently. Your vagina is helpless against my penetration. The warmness wiggling inside feels inevitable and your body accepts it with a mix of shame and glee.
Your vaginal lubrication trickles onto my tongue until it drips from my chin. My breath on your pelvis reminds you of my closeness and the exhibition of your female body.
I flick up and, for a half second, there's the lightest of touch against the engorged tip of your clitoris. You shudder, but my hands are pressed firmly on your legs to keep you still. I flick my tongue again and again as your strain to push into my mouth.
At last, I kiss your clitoris fully, my lips mashing against your labia as my tongue continues to explore your vagina, tracing along the intimate folds of your vulva, tasting you inside and out.
My hands let go and you instinctively wrap your legs around me. With my face practically buried in you, I press the broad flat of my tongue against your vulva, its path lapping up until your pussy juices have been sucked up. Your clitoris suddenly experiencing the full stroke of my tongue. The repetition makes you arch up, and you pant as I lick you fully, over and over.
The hot spark of pleasure grows against the lapping of my tongue and the heat travels down your body. Your legs tense up - waiting, straining. You don't know when it would happen, but you desperately need to experience the crest of this wave. Your legs open and close around me, as if you are trying to hide from the pleasure, but every stroke makes you forget and open up further, presenting yourself to my worship.
The sounds you make are beautiful: feminine and wanton. Desperate and wanting. Your moans serve as the melody to the rhythmic sound of my slurping, and together it's the refrain of your pleasure elevated above any shame you've ever felt.
The pleasure builds to a gut-wrenching tension. Your shoulders draw up together, your chest tight as if you're holding your breath. Your brows furrow and you close your eyes, unknowingly giving yourself over to my control. The heat in your pelvis feels like a messy kind of pleasure, wet and forceful.
I close my lips and suck on your clitoris, accompanied by flickings of the tongue into your vagina. Like a ship being tossed in the storm, you arch up and try to hold on to something, anything. You feel my mouth wrapped around your little bud, engulfed in the heat. The pressure, the pleasure. It's all too much. You're driven over and the dam you've been holding back breaks. The heat courses through you without mercy, slamming the breath out of you and forcing you to acknowledge the pure pleasure emanating from your vulva.
I continue to suck and lick and at this point you can't tell where I start and you end. Your thoughts are gone as you grind your pussy into my face. The remainder of your orgasm refusing to be chased away as your vagina drips and clenches.
At last, when you have no more breath left and your mind floats in the clouds of the afterglow, your mind and body will finally feel complete in its bonding.
Your female anatomy is beautiful and there is no shame in celebrating it.
