727 Cumming Ave. (Cherry Falls)

The next second, his hands fly to my shoulders and his lips pull back, baring his teeth as he lays me down, hands eagerly exploring my chest, fingers digging into my soft breasts as he lowers his face between my legs again and I yelp on a nervous giggle.

“Knees up, little flame,” he orders. “Show me you want what I have for you.”

I raise my feet from where they are still dangling in the water and press my heels into the cushion at the edge of the pool, lifting my hips, unable to stop myself from urging his mouth to where my body is screaming for his kiss.

“You’re a mess.” His voice vibrates against my spread, sensitive flesh. “I love you messy. For me.”

On a grunt, his lips connect with my clit and I gasp and jerk at the contact.

“Holy shit…” I blurt out, my hands flying up to cover my eyes for a moment.

He’s three kisses in and I’m pushing up against an orgasm already as I look up and see the stars twinkling in the black sky above.

“God,” I manage as he peppers soft kisses up and down my inner and outer lips, then my quivering thighs, the tension already building into a tsunami because this is nothing like I expected.

It’s better.

By a sum of infinity and beyond.

“This is all mine now, little flame. This cunt will be addicted to what I give and I’ll never stop giving.”

Just when I thought it couldn’t get better, it does.

His lips were one thing, but now it’s his tongue.

And, Jesus, what a tongue. Better than I imagined. It flicks, flutters, fucks and flies me to the moon, doing things I didn’t know a tongue could do.

All thoughts of my pudgy tummy and thicker than average thighs evaporate on the night breeze as my hands find the edges of the cushion and I wonder if I might tear the fabric with the force of my grip.

He’s groaning as much as I’m moaning, and I raise my head up just enough to get a glimpse of the magical sight of my math teacher’s mouth between my legs. His eyes flick upward as his tongue slips up and down, then dips inside and I have tunnel vision.

The wonder playing out right here on the edge of this magical swimming pool is so much more intense than I could have ever conceived.

His hands swoop under my back, gripping me hard just above my ass cheeks, and he pulls me harder onto his greedy mouth. I’m consumed by the overwhelming sensations. Tingles and waves of things I might have read about in books, but they don’t seem to compare.

It’s like someone trying to explain the Grand Canyon.

Or the color blue.

It can’t be done. It has to be seen and felt to be understood.

His tongue doubles down on my clit and I see the tension in his forehead and shoulders. He’s not just eating me out, he’s taking me in. Making me a part of him. And I never want to be just me again.

I think he may be enjoying this as much, if not more, than me. And that only adds to the heat of it all. The noises are decadent. Wet and sloppy; sucking and grunting, and I’m utterly unashamed.

I let my head fall into the cushion again, arching my back, the tightness growing and growing until I don’t think I can take one more lick without exploding.

His hands slide down to my ankles as his mouth continues its glorious onslaught, then he lifts them, draping my legs down his back so they rest on his shoulders, thighs against the sides of his face, feeling the scruff of his beard rough against my wet skin as my orgasm blindsides me.

It’s a category five hurricane of spinning and ear-splitting sounds. His mouth demands more, more, more. Deeper, faster, spinning and nipping until I’m practically levitating off the cushion, the climax convulsing through me in a burst that lights in my core then spirals out of control in spasms, losing all sense of time and place.

It feels like it will never end as the extraordinary pleasure pulses from the top of my head to my toes and back.

The wet sounds multiply as I feel a gush of warmth track down my ass, my heels bouncing off the hard muscle of his back as he holds me steady, mounted on his mouth, and I’m completely gone.

The stars disappear as everything turns black.

I hear Mason’s voice, far away, as my muscles turn to jelly. I’m not sure if I’m still conscious or not.

Then I hear the movement of the water, the chirp of crickets somewhere nearby. His hands are gone, my legs off his shoulders, then more water sounds as I lie there, counting my speeding heart beats.

When I get to twenty-eight, he’s next to me again and I feel strong hands slip under me, lifting me against his hard, thumping chest. Mason carries me like a child, clinging to him for comfort, and before I can open my eyes and focus I feel the softness of a bed or cushion once again under my entire body, then the scent of my arousal and the warmth of his breath against my lips.