His hands moved up, cupping one breast and then the other. She felt sick at herself beginning to welcome his touch, craving more heat. He stopped.Her ...ind was relieved, but her skin begged for more. More warmth. More heat.His face disappeared, footsteps moved toward the door. A moment later, she heard it lock. Anxiety rose in her, why had he locked the door? She tried not to think about it. His face reappeared.Her memory jogged. She knew him. From somewhere, from a long time ago. Searching. She could feel his tongue deep inside her, and he began to fuck her with it, sliding it in and out of her like it was a cock. She whimpered, begging for more, harder and deeper. His tongue lapped between her delicate lips, throbbing and swollen with need. It flicked over her clit and she began to shake, the beginnings of an orgasm upon her. Every time his tongue slipped over her clitoris, she would moan loudly, wishing he would never take it away from her tight, wet pussy. Finally, he decided. More

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