Chapter 13

“So, have you decided whether you like French kissing or not?” I joked.

“My tongue’s really tired and my lips are starting to feel chapped,” replied Mel.

“So, that’s a ‘no’ then.”

“I didn’t say that,” she protested. “Aren’t you in the least bit tired?”

My response was to move round so that my head was over Mel’s chest. I sucked one of her cherry-red nipples into my mouth, the rubbery, cool sensation an interesting contrast to her body heat.

“You’ll have a long wait if you’re expecting milk,” scoffed Mel.

Using a hand, I moulded the small, firm breast so I could get almost all of it in my mouth at the same time.

“Ewww!” protested Mel as the organ became saturated with my slobber.

I returned to tormenting the nipple, grasping it lightly between my teeth while flicking it with my tongue. Gripping it slightly harder, I pulled the nipple away from Mel’s chest, stretching her breast tissue out with it. Mel was panting again and I noticed her hand edge its way towards her pussy then retract itself as though having second thoughts.

I repositioned myself to torment the nipple’s twin, and again noticed that as I pulled on the nipple with my teeth, Mel’s hand would approach her pussy then retreat. It was as though she instinctively wanted to rub herself the rest of the way to orgasm but couldn’t bring herself to do it in front of me.

Then, while orally tormenting one nipple, I used my fingers to pinch, roll and pull the other. However, after several minutes of trying, I disappointedly realised I wasn’t going to get her to cum by breast play alone.

While it was fun tormenting Mel’s cherry-red nipples, I eventually took pity on her. I kissed my way down her slender body, taking the scenic route to map out Mel’s erogenous zones, all the while savouring her delicious natural body smell.

Eventually, as I approached the cause of the sticky patch on my stomach, Mel’s natural smell became overpowered by the musky scent of her arousal. Kissing my way in a circle around the outside of Mel’s pussy, the soft skin of my face detected a couple of stubbly patches. That was inevitable when the shavee was unable to sit still, but it was better than a mouthful of hair.

By now, Mel was as wet as any female I’d ever had an assignation with. Her glistening, reddened, engorged inner lips had already parted slightly, vainly flaunting their readiness. I pried them further open with my fingers then dived in with my tongue. Her oily secretions were strong and savoury, without any hint of the stale fishiness that presages a monthly bleed, confirming that Mel was indeed currently fertile.

As I licked and sucked up Mel’s natural juices, a hand alighted on my head, ostensibly stroking my hair but also applying pressure to strengthen my contact. As fast as I hoovered up Mel’s secretions, she produced more. When my face had become as saturated as I’d left Mel’s breast, I took pity on her, flicking my tongue lightly but rapidly over her livid clit.

Mel came hard, emitting her signature almost silent scream, her stomach muscles pulsing under my face. Then Mel tried to push my head away. I fought against her, chasing her clit as it tried to retract into its hood.

“No!” gasped Mel. “I can’t...”

Even as Mel was protesting, her body was betraying her. Mel’s clit stopped trying to hide and angrily re-emerged. Mel stopped fighting and gasped a very sonorous and laboured intake of breath before a second orgasm followed hot on the coat-tails of the first.