Tongue's Tender Touch

The rain hammered against the windows of our honeymoon suite, a relentless rhythm mirroring the frantic beat of my own heart. Sarah stood before me, a vision in a crimson lace babydoll, the fabric clinging to her curves like liquid velvet. It was a stark contrast to her usual, prim demeanor, a deliberate unveiling of the desires she’d kept hidden beneath layers of modesty. The scent of her perfume, a blend of vanilla and something subtly spicy, filled the air, intoxicating me with a primal heat. Her milky skin shimmered under the soft light, highlighting the delicate arch of her back and the gentle swell of her breasts. I’d spent months envisioning this moment, dreaming of her, and now, here she was, radiating an almost unbearable allure.

We’d talked about this, of course. The first time, in hushed tones over lukewarm coffee, she’d confessed to finding immense pleasure in the idea of submitting to my oral ministrations, a secret longing she’d harbored for years. She’d even confessed to devouring a few instructional videos, meticulously studying the techniques, determined to deliver a performance worthy of my pleasure. It made me feel like a god, knowing I was the recipient of such carefully cultivated anticipation.

The shower had been a strange, almost ceremonial act. Her insistence on preparing herself, her meticulous attention to detail, felt both incredibly intimate and slightly unsettling. When she emerged, draped in that provocative lace, my breath caught in my throat. Her eyes, usually so gentle, held a flicker of nervousness, a hint of vulnerability that only intensified my desire.

“I’m never going to try and tell you what to do again,” she whispered, her voice husky with suppressed excitement, “but will you let me lead this first time?”

The words hung in the air, a challenge and an invitation all rolled into one. I swallowed hard, pushing down the surge of anticipation, and nodded my assent. It was a small, decisive gesture, a silent agreement to surrender control, to let her take the reins. She smiled, a genuine, radiant smile that reached her eyes, and stepped closer.

She placed a plush velvet pillow on the floor between my legs, creating a soft landing for her descent. Then, with a grace that both thrilled and intimidated me, she dropped to her knees, pulling me into her embrace. Her lips met mine in a searing kiss, a spark igniting a fire that threatened to consume me. The scent of her arousal mingled with the rain’s damp aroma, creating a heady cocktail of desire.

Her hands moved slowly, deliberately, as she began to explore my body. First, her fingertips traced the curve of my spine, sending shivers down my nerves. Then, she gently cupped my breasts, her thumbs caressing the sensitive skin beneath my nipples. It was a slow, sensual dance, building the tension until it felt unbearable. Her gaze locked onto mine, a silent communication that spoke volumes.

She reached for one of the silk throw pillows, pulling it towards her and using it as a makeshift barrier between us. Then, she slipped the straps from her shoulders, revealing the pale expanse of her upper body. Her breasts, perfectly formed and undeniably alluring, hung suspended in the air, begging to be touched. I averted my gaze, fighting the overwhelming urge to succumb to the raw, unbridled lust that threatened to overwhelm me.

With a sigh, she leaned forward, her lips pressing against my head. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and vulnerability. I found myself instinctively pulling her closer, deepening the kiss, lost in the intoxicating rhythm of her breathing.

Her hands moved down my legs, tracing the line of my thighs, pausing on my groin before she gently grasped the base of my shaft. Her touch was light, playful, yet undeniably suggestive. I could feel the heat radiating from her body, igniting a fire deep within my core.

“My dear husband,” she murmured against my lips, “you’ve had my heart for a very long time, and now you will have my body.”

The words were a promise, a declaration of intent. Without hesitation, she brought her mouth to my head, unleashing a torrent of pent-up desire. It was an explosion of sensation, a release of every pent-up fantasy I’d harbored for months. My muscles tensed, my breathing became shallow, and I lost all control. I thrust, pushing against her, responding to her every move, completely surrendering to the pleasure she was providing.

She continued her assault, her lips sliding down my body, leaving a trail of dampness in their wake. Her touch was insistent, demanding, and I reveled in the exquisite torture. I could feel my body heating up, my mind racing, as I fought to maintain some semblance of control. But it was a losing battle. Her dominance was absolute, her pleasure my sole focus.

As the heat intensified, I felt a strange detachment from reality. The rain continued to beat against the windows, but it seemed distant, irrelevant. All that mattered was the exquisite sensation of her mouth on my head, the rhythmic pounding of my heart, and the overwhelming desire that consumed me.

She reached for my hands, pulling them up to her shoulders, then tracing the lines of my face before returning her attention to my cock. Her fingers dug into my flesh, drawing blood, and I let out a groan of pure ecstasy.

“Oh my God, baby,” I managed to choke out, unable to articulate the depth of my pleasure.

Her hands moved down my legs, exploring every inch of my body, and as she drew closer to my inner thighs, she laced her fingers through my hair and pulled me in. The sensation was overwhelming, a crescendo of pleasure that left me breathless and weak.

The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the feeling of her skin against mine, the scent of her arousal, and the overwhelming desire that threatened to consume me. I had never tasted anything so deliciously erotic, so intensely satisfying. It was a gift, a sacred offering from the woman I loved, and I would cherish it forever.

As I finally finished, exhausted but exhilarated, she rose from her knees, wiped her lips with the back of her hand, and smiled. Her eyes sparkled with triumph, a silent acknowledgment of the power she’d unleashed.

I rose to meet her, pulling her into my arms, and kissing her passionately, savoring every moment of her warmth, her scent, her touch. It was a celebration, a testament to our shared desires, a promise of countless nights to come. The rain continued to fall, but within the confines of our honeymoon suite, we had created our own sanctuary, a haven of pleasure and passion. And as I held her close, I knew that this was just the beginning of a long and beautiful journey.

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