I felt his presence as near to me as he could get. He touched me with his gentle fingers, and he touched me with his hard organ. He sighed in my ear, and let his tongue lightly caress the parted lips of my mouth. He stole my breath, then handed it back to me.
His gentle fingers played over my skin, making it sing. He had me arching against him as he let his fingers splay outward from my breasts or from my belly.
Then, letting his tongue dance along the path his fingers had just travelled, he soon centered his artful tongue on my protruding nub. His one aim; to make it rise against his lips.
He continually stabbed at it or pulled on it; making it rise from its hooded hiding place.
He pressed himself against my rear, just slightly separating the cheeks so his hard arousal could rest between them. I knew he wanted to press it into me, for I could feel his arousal quiver as its head rested against that tight rosebud, and my cheeks softly encased the hard, stiff rod that was his shaft.
But, being the considerate lover he is, he knew I wasn't ready yet. I jutted my rear into his groin, aching for the touch of him; aching to be filled. But, still he abstained.
"No, my precious," he breathed against my ear; then gently stabbing his tongue into the center of it.
"Not yet. I will fill you when I know you're ready." His low rumbled whisper, sent chills chasing each other as they raced along my spine; pooling their chase within my love tunnel.
He then leaned across my quivering belly, and I felt his hot breath in the hairs of my Mound of Venus. He inhaled deeply of the musky aroma, and I soon felt his fingers open the lips that hid my tunnel from him.
I arched against him, eager for his touch, as he held them open and blew a cooling stream of air into the mouth of the hole before him. He then bent forward and slipped his tongue into the warm liquid pool he found just on the other side of my opening.
I pushed my hips against his mouth, and held his head in place while he drank his fill. With each stab of his tongue, more liquid filled the pool.
He then slipped a long, thick finger alongside his tongue. I felt his tongue then travel upward, and flick my sensitive nub. His finger stayed within the pool, sliding in and out, making me arch with each inward movement; going ever deeper with each thrust.
He then slowly removed his finger, mindless of the river that followed in its wake. I felt him move it back toward him.
Again, came that low, rumbled whisper against my ear, "Be at ease, my sweet. The time is now."
.... There is more of this story ...