A girl who enjoys nothing but ☆romance☆

She randomly decides to press her face into your back and roam her fingers along your body while you’re distracted on your phone. Leisurely, you lie on your stomach while swiping through whatever short-form content—doomscrooling. The warmth and weight of her isn't enough to immediately draw your attention from the flashing colors. Then she uses her big hands to pull one of your thighs wider and presses her face square into your clothed pussy. 

Despite having shorts on, her tongue is still thick and hot enough to be felt through the fabric. Effectively, you drop your phone in surprise the moment she escalates the should-be domestic nuzzling. Why else would she be cuddling all over your back? Pushing her away isn’t an option either, since she easily has such a strong grip on your thighs, so all you can do is tremble while looking over your shoulder as she maps her tongue along the fabric.

“Hidari—”

You cut yourself off when her grip on the fat of your thighs tightens and nearly forces your hips to arch more. Immediately, you grip onto the sheets with a yelp as she manhandles you while continuously lapping against your shorts, thickly tracing the slit of your pussy and beginning to dampen the area.

She doesn’t bother lifting her head when she acknowledges you while hooking a finger on the side of your shorts. “Does this bother you?” Briefly, she flicks her blank eyes to your heated face, but she is more so presented with the view of the roundness of your ass in her face rather than your embarrassed eyes.

“…I mean, it doesn’t. You just did it so suddenly.”

She averts her gaze to her finger hooked under the damp crotch of your shorts. That's as close as a "continue" she can get. The long-haired woman then gradually pulls it to the side and exposes your bare folds, now slicked from her ministrations, to the air. Her gaze darkens when your pussy clenches from just the cold air caressing it; she craves you viscerally from just the sight of you sensitive so quickly. 

Wordlessly, she lowers her head and presses her hot tongue against your slit, and you instantly moan. Warmth pools in your stomach from the light pleasure of every light flick, but she quickly diverts to a more desperate hunger. 

The stoic woman becomes more ravenous as your juices melt and spread on her tongue, and she eventually drags her thick tongue deeply and slowly against your slit. A hot flick to your stiffening clit and a deep press to your fluttering hole.

The phone in your hands is long discarded on the sheets as you bury your face into the pillow, eyes half-lidded as you cling to it. You want to move your hips, possibly grind your pussy against her moving tongue, but those hands of hers, so killer and swift in any match, effortlessly keep your writhing hips still. 

What even prompted this? You don’t know; it’s jarring to have someone so quiet and reserved unexpectedly devouring you. When her tongue presses flatly against your entire pussy as she nearly buries her face into your ass, you almost pull away again. This neediness begins to escalate as you feel her yank the shorts’ crotch to the side more, hungrily eager to expose every intimate part of your body.

Your folds are fully coated in both her saliva and your own slick when she lifts her head and decides to pull your shorts off. A complaint can’t even leave your lips; you’re too shocked by how she swiftly lifts your hips from the bed and pulls the fabric down to your thighs—big hands handling you like a doll to be used.

And her desire worsens when she sees the thin line of juices connecting your folds to the shorts, then breaking into a glistening line once they’re off. 

“You’re fine with this?” She mutters, almost in a rasp; she needs to hear an ultimatum and not an unsure answer so she can have you wholly. This body of yours and your noises—there is no chance she’s going to leave without having you in the throes of hot pleasure after this display.

When you flusteredly stare over your shoulder down at her, then press your face into the pillow while letting out a muffled confirmation, her grip on the shorts tightens. So tight that a vein ripples across her knuckles at the arousing sight of your vulnerability and permission to continue.

She’s restraining herself from bruising you; there’s this desperate itch, a ravenous desire, to pin you down and make sure her tongue has you sobbing and seeing stars endlessly. Eyes rolling back, tears wetting your cheeks, lips contorted in silent moans so captivating that they're loud in her head. Her fingers twitch at the thought when the shorts are casually discarded on the floor. 

The sight of your shirt ruffled above your waist and your bare backside as you await her is so erotic that it’s almost fighting gravity itself to not tear you apart. This delicious, soft presentation of your ass she needs to sink her hands into and leave deep indents to have you reminded that she's the one who did that to you.

A bite's indent would last longer than that, even. A blunt, simple claim that you're hers and so is this body. But she won’t; she’d never go to such an extreme. You’d bruise just from her losing to her instincts—in a perceived tight grip in her eyes but far too harmful to you.

The dark-eyed woman finally descends upon your lower half, propping her bigger body on her elbows first before grabbing the back of your thighs. Forcibly, her calloused hands arch your hips to expose your pussy more, and it makes you dig your fingers in the sheets from how unrestrained, borderline rough, she’s being. Yet, still, it makes more warmth pool in your stomach. 

It even makes your juices spill out messily onto the sheets in clear ropes. Left’s eyes trail the sight as more veins protrude along her arm, stark against her muscles, as she fights against squeezing the fat too tightly. Briefly, her thumb reaches to one of your folds and pulls it to the side. The pink insides and bubbling juices are exposed, and it’s enough for her to latch her mouth quickly on your pussy again.

You instantly jolt and grip the sheets as her thick tongue shoves itself into your slit again. 

“Hidari—shit…” You moan out her name for only a second before her rough thumb grazes your sensitive folds, scraping deliciously, and begins to swipe against your clit. Your ass bucks against her face as her calloused thumb rubs deeply against your clit—she’s not taking it slow. Its texture, so rough and rigid, is unrelenting—heightening. 

Pair her moving thumb with her devouring tongue, and you’re uncontrollably moaning into the pillow as your nails nearly tear into the sheets. This normally would’ve been more flustering; her nose nestles in the globes of your ass as her mouth deftly moves along your pussy, but any lingering embarrassment has been melted away by her tongue.

That tongue—you could’ve sworn it’s a muscle she trained like her hands. It laps hotly against your quivering hole, produces more slick, and has your hips lifting voluntarily from the sheets. 

But then she pulls her mouth away, a thick line of slick attached to the pink muscle. Worse, she takes her thumb away too, and you lift your dazed face from the pillow, about to voice your disappointment. 

Immediately, you yelp in surprise at feeling her mouth latch onto your clit and suck harshly. 

And she roughly forces two fingers inside your pussy, forgetting to lubricate them. The stretch is searing and the briefest bit of painful as your walls naturally squeeze against the invasion, too thick and fulfilling. Her flicking tongue, singleminded and only wanting to have your juices drown her, paired with the abrupt pumping of her fingers has you sobbing.

“H-Hidari!”

Your legs curl as your arms hug against the pillow. Her fingers force themselves deeply and stretch you with every quick pump, collecting slick and beginning to glisten. The erotic noise of her tongue wetly slurping against your pussy is egregious, yet its vulgar, shameless sound instinctively makes your body produce more slick. 

The pain paired with pleasure makes tears begin to bubble in the corners of your eyes as you bite into the pillow; every pump and every unrelenting lick on the stiff bud is making your body frantic.

You’re quivering, dazed in the head, and beginning to feel that little spark—the knowing spark that you’re going to make a mess on her face.

To warn her, you try to speak. Voice wavering and hoarse, you pull your mouth away from the now damp pillow. “H-Hidari,” you pant, shakily looking over your shoulder. The sight is only the top of her head, white tresses all along her back and shoulders as her red bangs shift to the sides of her face. 

Unfortunately, the wet slapping of her thrusting fingers and slurping tongue answers you instead.

You open your mouth to call out again, wanting to be considerate and warn her, but she worsens the pleasure. Her fingers, so long and thick, curl tightly and press down purposely.

Your eyes snap wide as you let out a loud moan, and she continues pressing down, pumping in the specific area. She fully knows your body—in tune with it, really. You’re close, and you deserve to be even closer to a blinding experience. But it’s not only you deserving it; she desperately wants that specific taste on her tongue.

The taste that she’s the one who made you cum in just barely an hour. That she’s the one who’s making you moan and writhe on these sheets. That you’re hers.

You involuntarily buck your rear against her face more at the harsh spark of pleasure, the strong flare beginning to be the reason for a soon-to-be fire. It causes your body to seize up more expectantly as her fingers continue their schlick, schlick, schlick so rapidly inside of you. 

Those thick fingers curl and press down continuously, and you feel the growing tingle become apparent more and more. It’s close to leaving you breathless; you’re basically being tortured and pathetically can’t writhe out of her grip. Remember, she only needs just one hand to keep you on the bed.

With one last hard suck and flick on your clit, you feel the weightless of euphoria, then the white-hot spasm of your release washing over you. You end up burying your face into the pillow as your walls clench and squeeze around her still pumping fingers, dragging out your orgasm.

Your release spills thickly onto her tongue and messily drips down her chin, plopping onto the sheets, as your muffled sobs ring throughout the room.

Heady and viscous on her tongue, she takes her time, slowly lapping every spill gifted. The sweet tanginess mixed with knowing she’s made you cum so thoroughly is more pleasurable than touching her own body. Now, should she relent? Giving you a well-deserved moment of breath as you’re guided through the last of your waves.

Honestly, she doesn’t want to, but she understands your limits.

Wetly, the woman finally retracts her mouth. Her chin and lips are coated in dripping slick as she stares at her fingers still plugged into your fluttering pussy. The quiet woman then slowly pulls her long fingers out, entranced by how your folds cling to her. Almost as if your body doesn’t want to let her leave despite reaching the apex of your pleasure. 

With a wet shlick, her fingers fully reemerge from your spent pussy. The sight she’s greeted with is the stretched hole weakly quivering around nothing, possibly missing her fullness already. Left's eyes darken at the display; It’s convincing enough to have her devour you a second time.

But you need a breather. She’s not cruel. Left props herself up on her elbows, then presses one kiss to the dimple of your lower back. Another to the middle. And shields your back fully when she presses a kiss to your shoulder, her chest completely covering you.

You finally lift your head when you feel the weight of her pressing into you, eyes unfocused and breathing shallow. The release was that strong to have you out of breath.

And what she did was relatively tame compared to when she has you riding on top of her. That’s an entirely different story.

“Are you well?” Her eyes are their usual blankness, but her brows are furrowed lightly in consideration. Her chin is propped on your shoulder as you tremble with tears in your eyes. Your shirt sticks in certain areas from sweating, your heart is racing, and you’re on the verge of pressing your face weakly into the pillow again. You don't look well, but after that, you definitely feel well.

All the while your slick glistens from her lips and chin.

Shortly, you look over your shoulder and nearly touch noses with her. The scent of your juices is strong on her; it’s shamelessly on her breath and clings to her face. You’re amazed that she hasn’t decided to wipe it off yet, given how much is on her.

Her dark eyes don’t avert from you as she awaits a response. Finally, you only nod then look back at your phone discarded on your sheets. So much for free time.

After the confirmation, she nods as well and begins to slowly lift herself from your body. The long-haired woman stares down at you to confirm you’re genuinely alright, trusting her own judgement more than your own post-coital one, then places her feet on the floor.

The bed creaks when it’s displaced by her weight, sighing in relief, unlike you, who's left there still in a daze. The stoic woman walks away from the bedroom nonchalantly, as if she didn’t just use you to her liking.

You eventually pull your arms away from the clenched pillow and begin to gradually sit up, fully feeling the wetness between your legs now. Before standing up, your eyes catch her wiping away the juices with the back of her hand in passing.

Only to lick it off with a blank expression when she disappears into the hallway.

You have no idea what this woman’s problem is.