My Juliette, my love.
She sat up and stretched out her arms, wiping her come-soaked face on the blanket.
"Wow," she said. "That was amazing. How do you feel?"
I chuckled wryly, not really sure how to answer. "Whole."
"Good," she replied, her voice still husky with pent-up lust.
"Julie, baby? I want to do that for you, too. I'm just worried I won't be any good at it. I've never done anything like this before."
"Start with a couple of little kisses," she suggested. "Go slow. Don't do anything you're not comfortable with—just go with the flow, and see what feels natural to you."
With what little strength I had recovered at that point, I hoisted myself up into a sitting position. "Take your bra off and lie down," I ordered, with all the authority of a priest speaking to an acolyte.
She removed her bra and lay back. I could smell her arousal as I kissed my way down her body. I fondled her heavy breasts, taking the opportunity to suckle each nipple. It was so primal; it felt so viscerally right. It was as if her nipples were designed with my mouth in mind. I could have sucked on her breasts forever and then some.
With her permission, I eased her lacy blue panties off of her. She was completely clean-shaven, which surprised me a bit; I had never seen that in real life. I could see wetness beginning to leak from the crevice that split her hairless mound in two. I took that as a compliment.
She slipped two pillows under her ass to make things easier for me. "Use your thumb and forefinger to pull the outer lips apart," she advised me. "And then do whatever feels right. Just go with your instincts. Whatever you do will feel good, I promise."
My heart filled with the excitement of a child about to open the biggest present under the Christmas tree, crossed with the nerves I felt before preaching my first sermon.
I started with a small, hesitant kiss. I looked up at her face, and she was smiling, encouraging me to do it again. So I gave her another kiss, this time more deeply. She let out a small noise. I kept going, growing bolder with each kiss, enjoying her response. Before I even knew it, I was sucking on her soft, pink petals, pulling them into my mouth and bathing them with my eager tongue. My ministrations were met with rocking hips and small, rhythmic moans.
I'm eating a woman out.
And she likes it.
I had crossed this forbidden line, gone where I never thought I'd have the guts to go, and yet, navigating this brave new world was as natural as my next breath.
I let my tongue duck and dive among the luscious pink folds, exploring every square millimeter. The intense warmth and exquisite texture—somewhere between satin and the petals of a magnolia flower—made my heart race.
The taste wasn't at all disagreeable, either. I had been worried about that, but the reality was a pleasant surprise. It wasn't fishy or dirty like I had feared it might be—it was very light and slightly sweet with a hint of musk. It was definitely wet, but not slimy on my tongue. "Silky" is a more accurate descriptor. It was heavenly, really.
She likes it.
And I like it, too.
And I love her.
My clumsy lips and tongue began to find a rhythm, and soon her body ebbed and flowed in time with me. Her breathing became increasingly shallow and sharp, punctuated by whimpers. The sweet, silky liquid flowed freely, a libation of rich, earthy nectar coating my mouth inside and out. Her bent knees quivered and her heels dug into my rib cage slightly. One of her hands cupped the back of my head, her fingers tangled up in my hair.