Why Waste It On Talking?

If hands are my favourite part of the body, then I would have to say that my next favourite is the tongue. I may even extend that to the entire mouth, but the tongue is the cherry on the sundae.

Like hands, sexually it can do so much more to arouse than the penis can. With a properly used tongue, I could be convinced to get naked without ever being physically touched. Of course, I certainly wouldn’t want to waste a good tongue on words alone…

A quick lick on an earlobe, and down the nape of my neck can create endless shivers all over my body and result in slow sighs or involuntary gasps. A tongue trailing down my clavicle – perhaps leaving a trail of kisses in its wake is pure bliss.

And nipples? My cunt throbs just thinking about an ocean of possibilities. Licking the aureolae, blowing on them, sucking on them, and finally biting them. Enough time spent on that area along can result in my pouncing on you with impatience and tearing your clothes off.

Someone told me once that he considered french kissing to be second base. Well if that’s true, then I have absolutely no interest in first base. As far as I’m concerned, unless we’re related, you have absolutely no excuse for kissing me without getting at least a little tongue involved. I could extend the kiss goodnight portion of the evening for hours. And if a man called me up and said that he just wanted to make out on our first date (no dinner, no wooing..) I would probably consider him a great catch.

And no, I’m not forgetting the obvious. To feel a hot wet tongue trail down my stomach or up my inner thigh – to experience the exquisite, back arching tense of anticipation as it inches closer between my legs…

That initial flick of pressure and wetness…both hot and cold at the same time. Then nothing but heat…His lips kissing my cunt…his tongue creating such a wave of sensations that each moment of pleasure is indecipherable from the next. One moment he’s sucking my clit, the next he’s tongue fucking me.

It’s all I can do to stay relatively still, and not accidentally bruise him with a bucking pelvis. I simply arch my back more and clutch the blankets tighter and tighter. I involuntarily lock my legs around his back- locking my ankles and preventing his escape.

His tongue is mine. Orgasm after orgasm crashes over me. he is sucking up my juices and I’m moaning and screaming – simultaneously telling him to stop because it’s too much and locking my ankles even tighter as he grins up at me with no intention of releasing me…