I’m burning to worship your pussy with teasing and pleasure that’ll leave you trembling. Here’s how I’d drive you wild:
I’d pull you close first, my hands grazing your bare back, feeling the heat of your skin as I kiss your lips, slow and deep, letting our tongues tangle until you’re breathless. My mouth would wander, kissing down your jaw, nipping at your neck, savoring every little gasp you let out. I’d linger at your collarbone, my lips brushing softly, then move to your perfect tits, kissing around your nipples, teasing them with the lightest flicks of my tongue until they’re hard and you’re arching toward me, craving more.
But your pussy—that’s where I’m headed. I’d drop to my knees, my hands sliding down your sides, hooking that thong and easing it down slow, revealing your gorgeous, glistening folds. I’d pause, letting my breath graze your skin, warm and teasing, just to make you squirm. My lips would start at your inner thighs, kissing and sucking gently, inching closer but never quite touching where you want me most, building that sweet, torturous ache. I’d trace the edges of your pussy with feather-light kisses, feeling you tense with anticipation, your hips shifting, begging silently.
When I finally taste you, it’s deliberate—long, slow licks along your outer lips, savoring how wet you already are. I’d spread you gently with my fingers, exposing your clit, and tease it with the tip of my tongue, soft circles that make your thighs tremble. I’d pull back, blowing cool air over your sensitive skin, then dive back in, my tongue flattening, lapping at you like I’m starved. I’d keep it unpredictable—quick flicks, then slow, dragging licks, always watching your reactions, learning what makes you moan loudest.
My fingers would join in, one slipping inside you, curling just right to hit that sweet spot, moving slow to match the rhythm of my tongue. I’d add a second, stretching you slightly, pumping gently while my lips close around your clit, sucking softly, then harder as your moans turn to whimpers. I’d whisper against your skin, voice rough, “Fuck, baby, you taste so good, I want you to cum all over my face.” Every word’s meant to push you closer, blending the physical with that mental rush.
I’d keep you on the edge, slowing down when you’re close, letting the pleasure build until it’s almost unbearable. My tongue would dance faster, circling your clit, then sucking it in pulses, my fingers thrusting deeper, curling every time I feel you clench. I’d look up, locking eyes, letting you see how much I’m loving this, how I’m obsessed with your pleasure. When you finally cum, I want it to hit like a wave—your body shaking, thighs clamping around me, your screams filling the air as I lick you through every pulse, drawing out every last shudder.
And when you’re still catching your breath, I’d rise, kissing you deep so you taste yourself on my lips, ready to see that naughty spark in your eyes as you pull me closer for more.
