It seemed as though he spent hours between her thighs: kissing, nibbling, sucking, and licking—ah, God, the licking. Lots of it, slow and steady; the man never got tired. In no time, her clit was enthusiastically throbbing, and that’s when he started paying special, extended, loving attention to the little button Giselle hardly thought of unless she was enjoying the evening with Mr. Shaky.

His tongue darted and stroked. She could feel its warm, wet length sliding and slipping between her throbbing lips. She felt him sucking on her clit with a single-minded enthusiasm that was as exciting as it was astonishing.

After a while she was squirming all over the bed, trying to get away from the delectable torture of his mouth. He wouldn’t—he—he never stopped, never got tired, just kept at her, at her, at her. Lick lick lick and suck suck suck and even small, tender bites. She could feel herself getting drenched and would have blushed if she hadn’t been so close to shrieking. She’d start to feel her orgasm approach, and he’d somehow know and back off. Instead of giving her the last few flicks of his tongue to push her over the brink, he’d move to her inner labia and gently suck them until she was no longer close to coming, or his tongue would delve inside her—so deeply!—leaving her clit bereft.

“Oh, God, y’smell so damned good!” After that breathless declaration, he buried his face between her legs and commenced tormenting her anew. His hands spread her thighs so wide her knees were almost parallel, baring her fleshy mound for his hungry mouth. He started licking her in long, slow, agonizing slurps, from bottom to top, over and over and over. Her back bowed, and she was certain she was about to lose her mind if she didn’t come now.

So she squirmed and wriggled, and when she made progress getting away from him, he simply grasped her thighs and pulled her back to his mouth. This went on for about seventeen years, until he tired of playing with her, sucked her clit into his mouth, and slipped two fingers inside her. The feeling of his warm lips on her and his long fingers in her was exquisite, brilliant. His fingers moved, stroked, and pushed hard inside her, pressure that was just short of discomfort, pressure that was amazing, mind-boggling. His lips had closed over her clit while his tongue flicked back and forth with dizzying rapidity. Her orgasm crashed over her like a wave, and she shrieked at the ceiling.

When he came up to lie beside her, she was still shaking. “Better?”