Beautiful everywhere, Sandra is most beautiful here.

Her hair-covered mound was a black pile in the dim light. I kissed the pale thigh to my right. The outer lips were covered more sparsely; I could see individual hairs when I looked. I kissed the thigh to my left. Like this, even with her feet resting each side of my elbows, the inner lips were barely visible. One shimmering line, they seemed to glow with their own light.

My thumbs parted the larger lips. Their inner sides were a light pink, distinct from the darker hue of the smaller ones. This freed more of the aroma. It was overwhelmingly rich, acrid, even earthy. She smelled fertile.

I told myself that I was making it up. I knew that she was off the pill, newly receptive to my seed. Had that knowledge distorted my perceptions? Perhaps. But still, she did smell fertile.

I placed two fingers on her mound, just at the point where the pad splits into lips. I rubbed her there, pressing firmly enough that her flesh moved with my fingers, lightly enough that the fingers didn't move across her hair. Touch, though, was no longer enough; neither was sight, nor even smell.

Just the tip of my tongue flicked just the edge of her inner lips. That brought a drop of her delicious nectar. I licked up one side of those joined lips, and then up the other. The flavor was delightful, but the amount was insufficient. I drew one inner lip away from its neighbor with my finger. My tongue invaded that gap. The feel was almost as arousing as the taste.

After lapping at her liquid, I drew my tongue upwards along the side of one lip; then I returned to the moisture for another full taste before I licked the other lip.

I drew back only far enough for my eyes to focus. I saw the pink smoothness I had been licking; I saw the entrance which looks tiny, but is magically able to accept me. And, there at the top where all that beauty comes together in whirls and whorls, I saw her delicate bud peeking out.

I couldn't resist one taste just there. Sandra raised herself as if to meet my tongue. I could hear her inhalation as she tensed, almost a whistle. I could hear her sigh as she relaxed. I licked even more gently, and got that response again.

Then I settled my mouth upon that beauty. No longer needing my fingers to keep her open, I slid my hands under her thighs and up the sheets. With my arms in the new position, I could again support my weight on my elbows, and my hands could now cup her breasts.

At my first mild kiss, her nipples tickled my palms; her hips shifted between my arms. I tickled her nipples back. I squeezed her breasts very slightly. I licked one side or the other of her groove. Occasionally I kissed her again, gently sucking her bud. But I did all this in no predictable order, making each sensation a surprise.

I felt her body tense. She raised her head to make eye contact. I could tell that she would be ready soon, ready for one firm kiss to send her over.