For the next few minutes my tongue lolled over the fleshy mound between her thighs, pressing into the silky grit of the nylon or pulling it into my mouth to suck out the flavor, but when I wriggled my hands beneath her bottom for a better grip, she caught me in hers. Her hips turned slow gyrations, grinding down over my trapped nose and lips. She was breathing heavily, but still staring right at me; whenever I looked up past the surging hem of her skirt, her eyes were locked to mine.
In one quick moment she pushed me back by my forehead. Her fingers hooked and tore a hole in the crotch of her hose – they were strong fingers, apparently – then caught the back of my head and pulled me back in. The soaked black satin of her panties, despite the heat roiling from her pussy, felt cool against my lips. I began sucking and lapping anew.
Shortly, though, I had stretched the panties to one side and had begun to trace the inner profile of her swollen, steamy labia. By now, after ten minutes of sweating in her sauna, I shouldn’t have been surprised that the temperature of her flesh was so high – certainly feverish. A fleeting thought of fever-causing diseases ran through my mind before she crossed her calves behind my shoulders and squeezed. She was moaning and whimpering; her thighs would open and suddenly snap shut around my temples like an oyster, squeezing me firmly in place while she ground her pussy into the bridge of my nose, my lips, my chin – whatever was pressed against her. Just as suddenly she’d release me to breathe, and I’d begin with my tongue again. Still her eyes stayed fixed on mine.
