Such softness and precision, working with so much intent against that sensitivity. This is the very element of sex, to devour such beauty, to tirelessly feast yet never once be full, always hungering for more. There is no moan, no scream, no word, that could ever signify that it is ‘enough’.

Every delicate, intimate fold of that sex, every calculated flutter of that tongue, so many details all hidden by such erotic contact. Only the most sensual pressure, skin against skin, lips against lips. 

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