How To Enjoy Loving Cunnilingus, The Most Special Intimate Kiss ~ Angela Goodnight

On Saturday morning I nipped downstairs and made us both a cup of tea and climbed back into bed as Peter returned from the bathroom.

Hand holding sexWe love lying side by side holding hands and staring at the ceiling, perhaps talking about what we will be doing this day. More time in the garden or walking along the cliffs or beach or shopping or going visiting.

All the time our hands are making love with each other. That wonderful sensation of someone’s fingers stroking between yours, lightly crossing your palms giving that delightful shivery tingle.

I was naked. I always sleep naked in the summer. Peter had been in his pyjama shorts when he woke but I could see that they were gone now and Zebedee was standing erect. Six and a half inches of gorgeous penis, his foreskin retreating from its protective duties.

I was just about to turn tail and give him fellatio, when he got up, pulled me to the edge of the bed and kneeled before me. Oh boy, I knew what he was going to do to me and it has always been one of my greatest thrills. I lifted my legs, separated them and held onto my ankles, watching his face examining me. That is so hot, knowing he is looking at me and me hoping there is no tissue stuck anywhere and that I look good to him.

I shave everything below my clitoris hood and I’d done so last night so knew I was smooth and ready for what I called my special kiss. He looked up from my vulva to my eyes and I smiled. His face closed upon its target.

The warmth of his lips was delightful. Light, gentle kisses of my outer and my protruding right inner lip. No tongue, just feather light kisses, moving from the concealed entrance to my vagina, centimetre by centimetre along the length of my valley until I felt them resting on my prepuce. Incredible, I could feel the blood rushing into my vulva and clitoris from just the thought of what he was doing to me.

His face descended again. More kisses, pressing slightly more firmly, giving me eight or ten as he progressed upwards once more to finish with a firmer kiss against the hood of my clitoris. A kiss which he moved left to right, right to left, up to down and down to up. If Williamina wasn’t already erect within her protective fold of skin, she was now. A lovely thrill of sexual arousal filled me with a warm ache of desire for more touching, more feeling, more kissing and, dare I hope, invasion by his amazing prehensile tongue and eventually his penis.

He denied me my desire for several more minutes, continuing to pepper the length of my sex with the warmth of his lips then the thrill began.

He was at the bottom. I felt his tongue begin its exploration, forcing its way between my inner lips to skirt the entrance to my vagina. Two or three circuits, pressing inwards further on each before retreating for more saliva and beginning its warm slippery trail along my valley. Such a phenomenal sensation, its wetness between my inner labia, separating them, moistening them and making its way inexorably towards that secret nub of flesh which I knew was desperate to feel its action. Half way up now. My thicker upper labial flaps were not just being caressed by his tongue, but he stopped to take each of them between his lips, rolling them as if they were made of chocolate, licking and tasting me. So exquisite, I was in rapture.

Damn it all, he stopped at the flaps and returned to my vagina. He knew it was my clit which needed his attention, but he began again from my sexual opening. I could feel I was leaking lubrication and he forced the tip of his tongue as deeply into me as he could, performing circuit after circuit until I heard myself give an uncontrolled whimper of joy at the experience.

As if it was a signal he began his upward investigation again, that amazing tingle as he flicked rapidly over my peehole before starting, once more, the sensual tasting of my flaps. Sucking each, licking each, sliding his tongue hard back down to my vagina and along the entire length of me, but always stopping before my labia met at the spot which so wanted his wetness.

Is it torture or just part of the experience of imparting joy? I have no idea, but my clitoris was aching for attention now and, seemingly reading my mind, the wet, inquisitive creature finally climbed out of my cleft, over my engorged labia and onto my clit, pushing back my hood. I cried out.

Almost in a dream now, I felt his hand pull against my vulva, opening the top so that my clit stood proud. I knew it was only small, but also that it was now at its fullest. His tongue stroked it back and forth, side to side. My breath was now coming in pants, I knew I was climbing the mountain of joy and his whole mouth closed over my clit and upper vulva and sucked, creating a distinct vacuum as his tongue seemed to circle and play with its new-found toy. God, I simply exploded into orgasm.

I don’t know how many contractions I had as my vagina and anus tried to grip anything nearby and found nothing. For several seconds there was the joy of orgasm, but also the overpowering desire to be penetrated. Suddenly I was aware he was standing. I saw Zebedee, tall and firm as he guided it into my body. Wow, its entry set off a second orgasm for me and I could feel him filling me, occupying me, satisfying my desire to have something, anything inside my body.

It seemed to be only a minute. Perhaps it was longer. I didn’t know. He gave a deep thrust, an even deeper grunt and held his body as tight to me as he could as Zebedee emptied his supply of love deep within me, setting off, damn it, another climax. I cried out again my love for my lover as my vagina seemed to want to suck him dry. My thighs shook, my tummy rose and fell in counterbalance to my heaving chest. My whole body was in total rapture.

He fell forward onto me and my hands grasped his hips and bum to hold him inside me, knowing that being on the edge of the bed would shorten the connection.

I felt him slipping and said, “Come up the bed.”

We disconnected repositioned ourselves into scissors and he pushed back into me against his own torrent of semen trying to go the other way.

His hand closed on my breast while mine held the bottom of his erection, gripping it, feeling its wetness, holding it tightly inside me, preventing my treacherous kegels from evicting him.

It was, of course, a losing battle and we finally separated, lay side by side, holding hands again only this time Zebedee was flopped to the left. I released his hand, reached over his hip and held its dampness in a comforting grasp. It had performed so well and deserved to be comforted.

What a wonderful Saturday morning!

Angela Goodnight, 2nd August 2016

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