I lay there looking at my prey for several minutes, savoring the sensations. So far there was no sound to hear nor had I gotten close enough to taste or to feel of it. All of those would come later. The second sense involved was smell but the first sense affected was sight.
My sense of sight was aware before I had even assumed the position. From the very first time I spotted the target, I felt a tingling sensation all over my body. The closer I got, the stronger the sensations became. Carefully, like a hunter stalking its prey, I moved from a standing position to hands and knees and then a full prone position, never taking my eyes from my quarry.
The closer I got the more my eyes scanned my victim for signs of imperfection but there were none. On the left side, the valley-shaped body parts were as smooth and as symmetrical as those in the mirror image on the right side. Coloring made a smooth transition from light-brownish-tan to slightly darker tan to lighter again and followed by a rainbow of pinks until the thin oval in the center of the primary target, which was a lustrous reddish-pink. The lines of the thin oval were perfect and could have been drawn with a ruler and a French curve.
It was actually shaped like an elongated teardrop, with a slightly wider area near the bottom. Along each side of the narrow pointed upper portion of the oval was a slight indentation traveling parallel to the top of the oval and looking like miniature drainage paths in a watershed area. Above the top point of the oval was the only real protuberance in the area, a minor mountain as broad as the widest part of the oval and a little longer than it was wide. At the top of the bump there was a smooth transition back into the even terrain that surrounded the area.
It was as perfect a pussy as my eyes had ever surveyed... although I had to admit that many other shapes and contours that I had studied had also seemed perfect at the time.
I was getting antsy to check out my other senses but first had one more target of surveillance. Dropping my eyes along the course of the tiny oval, I glanced over her perineum, the ridge that separated the valley of her pussy from the valley of her anus. I was amazed at how the puckered skin of her anal covering seemed to form a perfect asterisk: three very pronounced lines crossing at the center to form an unbroken six-pointed star.
Of course what made it unusual was that the lines were broken, right at the middle but only extremely close observation could yield that information. There were smaller ridges starting in the outer reaches of that valley and ending at the opening but mostly they were not all that noticeable.
I eased my eyesight back to her pussy and thought about the smell. So often I've heard guys talk about pussy smelling like a dead fish but I think that's usually because they never get close enough to a real pussy to know what it smells like. I have never thought any pussy smelled like that, although some do smell better than others. Almost every pussy has a slight smell of urine, even if it has been carefully washed recently, although that makes it very difficult to pick out from other more enjoyable odors.
Every pussy has a different smell because every woman is unique in her make-up and the smell of her pussy is affected slightly by what she eats and drinks since those things eventually make up the cells of her body and the eventual decay of those cells cause the majority of the smell. However this odor is a somewhat pungent, somewhat saucy smell but there is also a faint fragrance of flowers and fresh spring air, indicating that she most likely daubed a little of her perfume between her legs a short time before we met. It is, to me, an altogether delightful odor.
Inching closer, I extended my tongue to its full length and kept moving closer until my tongue touched the valley between her body and her right leg. Carefully I traced a soft line up to the top of the valley, down to the bottom where it spread into the bottom curve of her buttock, and then back again. The sense of touch was stronger than the sense of taste but my tongue picked up the sweet essence of woman along with the unusual taste of her perfume and I knew where she had applied the dabs. Taking my time, I moved my head to the right and followed the same pattern along the other valley.
Then turning my head just slightly inward, I traced outside the oval, up and over, down and around. At that time, her outer lips were hardly expanded at all, lying nearly flat along the contours of the area. But as my tongue worked its way around the cavern opening, the coloring began to change to a brighter, more saturated red. And slowly, ever so subtly, the area began to puff upward as it filled with her hot blood.
By the time my tongue traced the third complete course around the opening, my senses picked up on some distinct changes. My sense of touch picked up on a growing heat that radiated out upon my face, caused by the filling of all blood vessels in the area with fresh blood. Normally the blood in the area would pass through at a leisurely pace, allowing it time to gradually cool from when it leaves her heart until it arrives at her genitalia.
Now, however, her heart rate is increased as she pumps more and more blood, causing it to arrive in the area before me in near-record time, before it has much of a chance to cool and thus the temperature of the whole has increased as her excitement increases. That is a good sign for me, a sign that she wants me to continue.
My sense of smell picks up on a stronger odor, maybe a bit more pungent but still quite savory as the blood heats everything in the area. My brain flashes the thought that, while the smell is stronger, it is also heady to think that my attention to her has caused such a change. My sense of sight notices that the thin edges of her oval have taken on a glistening sheen all around as a self-contained, self-generated liquid begins to coat the area in anticipation of further activity. My sense of hearing picks up on the first sounds, not from the target area but from her control center, where a soft "mmmmmmmmmm" sound emanates.
My tongue migrates into the depression in the center of the narrow oval and now instead of tracing circles, I use my tongue to lick up and down the narrow opening, flicking at the soft core flesh as I go. She groans and calls my name softly. My eyes tell me that the entire area around the oval has grown puffier still as it fills with hot blood and the coloration has slowly changed to several shades of deeper pink, almost a rose color. As my tongue finds her lubricating liquid and licks it up, it is quickly replaced by more of the same. My tongue flicks up and down her slit, still avoiding the little mountainous bump that hides her clitoris.
Her fingertips brush the skin of my face on their way to a spot on either side of my target. She presses three fingertips into each of the places of her choosing and with an outward pressure, eases the opening wider, giving my tongue easier access to her inner sanctum and partially opening the path to her clitty. With the opening to her vagina now standing unguarded, the heat on my face is intensified.
The smells in my nostrils has changed somewhat, with the special odors of her insides growing instantly stronger. It is a significantly more intense message to my red fog-shrouded brain than before and I feel my whole body attempt to react to the newest sexual stimuli but, other than shifting my lower torso to allow my cock to find a more convenient place to lay, I ignore the signs because, in spite of the pleasures I get from watching, feeling, hearing, seeing her cum, this is primarily for her, not me.
My tongue attacks the opening in the lower part of the precious oval. Her opening is a jumble of little eroded mesas of oddly shaped flesh, each surrounded by the darkness of a promised opening into her innermost treasures. It is now, as my tongue pushes the fleshy bits aside and enters her depths, that I wish, as always, that my tongue was longer, much, much longer. I explore, in little circles and jabs, all of the hidden terrain of her vagina to the depth that I can reach but I wish desperately that it was twice, thrice, even four times as long, so I could explore the entire cavern of her outer chamber.
I love those parts that I can touch. It is so soft as to be unbelievable, the flesh molding around my tongue like the ultimate in soft velvet-covered leather. I cannot tell that her temperature has continued to increase but it is still as intense as when I first entered the outer oval and now I can feel the heat from the tip of my nose, which is in the upper reaches of the oval, to my chin, which is pushing the bottom of the oval wider as my tongue tries to stab ever deeper into her pussy. I feel her whole bottom moving slightly in a forward and back rocking motion that strives to complement my tongue's searching drives into her sweet tunnel.
With my tongue completing its tour of her opening as my tongue can know it, I slid my tongue upward and curled it around the soft-hardness of her pelvic bone. That hard barrier is the basic building block of her reproductive system, providing the support for all the other intricate parts as well as the protector of her g-spot. If only my tongue was an inch longer, I would love to scrub that little washboard area under the clitoris. Alas, it is not to be and I will settle for using my fingers a little later.
I started out of her vagina, retracing most of my steps in order to capture new drops of her natural lube deposited after my tongue's passing, working my way to the valley of her outer lips, that intriguing oval in which I began. Once there, I turned my head upward toward the pointed end, now looking like an upside down capital V as held by her fingers.