Orgasmic bliss

While he may seem to be able to go on like this for hours, the same cannot be said about you. Never before have you experienced pleasure like this and it didn't take long for you to reach the edge. Even if you wanted to, you wouldn't be able to stop now.

As your moans get louder, you feel his tongue focus almost exclusively on your clit, nimble fingers massaging your lips and keeping them spread for him to be able to probe your most sensible place with his divine tongue.

Finally, in a high-pitched scream of pure, unadulterated pleasure, you reach orgasm, releasing a torrent of juice in his eager mouth. Your thighs clamp hard around his head, your fingers scratching the fabric of the seat of the carriage as you try to grip something, anything to tether you to this moment, as you feel your mind drifts away in pure orgasmic bliss.

After some time, your consciousness returns in time to see the driver delicately dabs his lips with the white handkerchief of his tuxedo, as if finishing a particularly tasty dinner in a five-starred restaurant. His appearance and manners are in complete opposition to your dishevelled state, face flushed in pleasure, panties askew under your skirt, no shirt nor bra and a stickiness between your legs.

Putting his domino mask back in place, it must have shifted during his very thorough examination, he asks you.

"Are you feeling better miss? Any other place I would need to check?"

While he asked in a perfectly calm voice, you spot the corner of his lips rising up a bit, evidently amused by the situation.