Ken was so easy to be around. From the moment he put a hand on her, she was ready to go and eager to trust him. Yes, yes, I want to have this kind of experience tonight. Maybe this was the moment he turned into a crazy serial killer. Lana was willing to take that chance.
Well, she was committed now, and wasn’t inclined to believe that she had much to fear, for even though her wrists were bound above her head and her calves pressed against her thighs, Lana Losers was so far removed from fear that she couldn’t imagine doing anything but trust the brilliant man kneeling between her legs and licking her slit with a mixture of grunts and growls.
While Lana assumed this gift was mostly to make sure she was wetter than wet for what was to come, she also liked to believe that Ken was having the time of his life down there. Then again, Lana was unfortunately familiar with men who would rather eat haggis than go down on a woman, but gave it the ol’ college try anyway. Worse than what fake lesbian porn looks like, honestly. Ken was nowhere near that kind of embarrassment. His tongue sensually licked her cleft, diving deep, deep, deeper into her than she thought possible for a man to accomplish. The eagerness he foisted upon her mound was only matched by her swelling clit and the wet arousal leaving her body faster than she could control it – as if such things could be controlled. He must think I taste good. And felt good, since there was no way to fake the way he clutched her thighs, massaged her stomach, and flirtatiously licked the entire length of her slit. The man was feasting. Lana was the most delectable meal he had ever consumed.
She was not gagged, but she was under a silent order to not speak. Ken was in control; she submitted to him. Not easy for Lana to submit under most circumstances, even when it was what she wanted. It required opening a special part of her heart and soul that often didn’t see the daylight. I have to be vulnerable. I have to trust the person doing this. Sometimes fear seized her. It was easy to forget how many times Ken had been kind to her already. Kindness was in short supply when it came to competent lovers.
Although she couldn’t see him, she knew what he looked like based on the sounds, the sensations, the knowledge she already had of what it was like to be with him. His hair is already mussed from rubbing against my thighs… every time he turns his head and rubs his prickly face against my cunt. She loved it. That feeling. The intimacy it bestowed between them. His eyes are closed. He has no reason to look me in the eye when I’m blindfolded, so he’s completely savoring every second that goes by. His mouth is pursed from all the sucking and licking. I can’t avoid seeing it. I know that’s what is happening. Ken Andrews was drunk on her pussy. Her wetness was all over his face and in his hair. The man would need a thorough shower to get her off him. Hopefully not for a while.
Of course it felt good. Of course she wanted to cry out, moan, thrust against his face and encourage him to bring her to orgasm. But Lana knew that this wasn’t about that. Ken was proving himself to her, one heavy lap of the tongue at a time.
Then he really went for it. Got right in her center, hands bracing against the undersides of her thighs and demanding she give up an orgasm to soothe his masculine ego that wanted to prove it could give it to her unlike any other man.
His tongue fucked her with purpose. His lips sucked, sucked, sucked so hard on her clit that Lana began to writhe from how intensely it shook her. The first real moan eked from her chapped lips. Kiss me, baby. Come up and kiss me with that nasty mouth of yours.
Instead, he used that mouth to make her come. He didn’t even have to use his fingers. Just the judicious application of oral skills a man could only amass after a lot of practice.
Orgasm built in her stomach, right where his forehead touched her. It was like a button waiting to be pushed, to send off a flurry of fireworks through her whole body. Relax her. Claim her. Fuck her up until she couldn’t move or speak any longer. The man had only penetrated her with one finger and his tongue, and yet she dared to think she could feel like that after an orgasm? She must have been insane.
Or really, really hopeful.
“Fuck!” She hadn’t meant to say a word when she climaxed, but she couldn’t help it. Ken kept going, eating her alive, destroying the last of the barriers erected between them. He was going to make her lose her mind, and she would beg to have it done again and again. “I’m coming!” Like she had to tell him. The man was already so attuned to her body’s machinations that he had to know she was coming all over his face.