I split her seam with my tongue feeling the smooth wet ecstasy waiting for me. She tastes amazing.This is my church. The alter at which I worship. My ...ongue finds her clitoris and circles it. She lets out a moan and her hands take hold of my hair. That those moans are mine makes me almost giddy. I worship my goddess until my face is covered with her scent and my tongue is covered with her arousal. I don’t want to stop. but there are other parts that need my attention.I leave my fingers to. It wasn't the only, or last time, such things happened to me. My bed wasused habitually for such escapades, and seldom did it matter if I was inthe bed, or not. The other pretext (and perhaps the most significant) was how I looked. All through grade school and junior high I was the smallest in my class.Even the most petite girl was at least an inch or two taller than I was. As said, I took after my mother. That meant I had her fine raven blackhair, her alabaster skin, and her fine and feminine. More

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