Craving

I have a craving. A craving for a man who is starving.

I have the food he is starving for.

At first there will be restraint. I will display what he wants, and he will take a taste. One finger dipped in juice. He knows he cannot have more.

Yet.

He will put his face close to me and inhale the aroma of my offering. His mouth will water, and his fingers will explore but he knows he cannot have more.

Yet.

He moves closer and takes his first taste. A long slow lick. His whole body shudders with desire. But he cannot have more.

Yet.

I spread my legs wider. My fingers dip into my dripping wet cunt and then trace the path I want his tongue to follow. His eyes follow eagerly. I notice his hand is around his manhood moving slowly. He is almost ready. Eagerly he follows my fingers with his tongue. A deep groan vibrates through him.

Or is that me?

He grips my thighs desperately holding back. The ache to consume and be consumed grows. My fingers cradle the back of his head. His breath is hot against me. I wait. Each tentative stroke of his tongue sending a cacophony of pleasure through me.

And then it is time.

I can wait no longer. My fingers curl into his hair. I press his head against me. He obeys. He buries his face into me, gulping as he tries to drink my juice. His breath comes in short sharp bursts. I am lost in sensation. My head falls back, and the room fills with my cries of pleasure until I can take no more. I press his forehead away from me and he leans back on his heels breathing heavily. Droplets of my pleasure coat his chin. We grin at each other, and I reach for his cock. My craving is satisfied.

For now.

Image by Bogdan Ch from Pixabay