I eat Abby out

I turn and lay Abby down on the cushions, then slide off to kneel on the floor. “If you think that was good, sweet girl, you’re going to love this.” I lift one of her calves up to the back of the sofa and pull the other one off to rest her foot on the floor. I spread her delicate little hot-pink slit wide and put my lips on hers. I caress her inner labia and run my tongue left and right between them, stroking their inner surfaces and gathering more of her girl-honey. I suck on her lips and scrape them lightly with my teeth as my tongue continues to play; then I suck just one deep into my mouth, licking it all over, and pull.

“Fuck, Ben,” Abby groans. “Eat that pussy—just like that—more—more—fuck that’s good, that’s good, that’s so fucking good . . . No one’s ever eaten me before—oh fuck feed on me, eat that hot little snatch, feast on me, make me cum on your face . . .” I put my thumb on her joystick and press lightly, then rub it in circles, earning a delighted squeal. I plump my tongue up round and pierce her sex, tasting her as deep as I can manage. “Ben!” she squeaks. “Did you—what—fuck, that’s hot!” I pump her honeypot with my tongue, knowing it won’t be long before my neck orders me to stop but wanting to make the most of it. I flick her button with my thumb, then pinch it lightly, and she mewls. “Ohhhhh, Ben, fuck that hot, wet pussy with that sweet tongue—taste me—rub my little clit—eat me out, baby, eat me out right . . .”

Feeling the warning buzz in my neck, I push my tongue as deep as it will go and flip it around into a roll, then suck hard, drinking Abby’s nectar from the source. She moans my name, then moans it louder when I start flexing my tongue in her box, stretching her elastic walls. I rub her clit faster, then pinch it again and tweak it. “Love my pussy, Ben,” she moans, “lick me out, eat me out from the inside—pinch my clit—rub my button—rub my little pink button . . . Fuck you’ve got me so hot, baby, so fucking horny . . . I’ve never been this hot, never been this high, it’s so much better than touching myself, so much better than any boy—never felt this good before . . . I’m so close, baby, so close so close so close—don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop—more—more—more—”

I flatten my tongue and shift myself around, getting my upper body onto the couch to make it easier to stimulate Abby’s G-spot. I rasp it with my tongue and flick her clit with my thumb, and her climax blasts through her like a sandstorm. She flexes and bounces, thrusting her quim into my face, and lets out a strangled scream; her pulsating tunnel squeezes and massages my tongue as it sprays girl-cum into my greedy mouth.

I take my hand off Abby’s pearl and grab a tit, giving it a firm squeeze and then pulling and twisting its turgid pink point. I suck her pearl deep into my mouth—hard, like I’m trying to suck it clean out of her oyster. I pierce her sex with two fingers and start rubbing her G-spot. “More—more—more, Ben, more—” she gasps. “So good—gonna—cum again—on your fingers—all over your face—” When I start humming the bass line to “Peter Gunn,” her second orgasm erupts like Vesuvius. This time, her lungs overcome her throat muscles and she shrieks like an angry falcon as she writhes and thrashes under my ministrations.