Until she's fully ready

It's apparent now, that she's fully engrossed in what you're doing, and enraptured by it. So, naturally, you continue. You let your touches flow into an endless river of exploration across her pleasure, the heat of it nearly burning you.

As you move with the rhythm of her passion, the soft breaths you could scarcely hear from her before turn louder. As if she's beginning to cry out for a deity, but cutting herself off for lack of words. Gazing up to her face, you smile at her fluttering eyelid and upturned chin. Her blouse has fallen open, revealing the full curve of her left bosom, small but perfectly rounded. Drawing you like a magnet is the perfect nub of pink, beckoning your mouth in a way water might call to man in the desert.

You can't escape its call. As your hands continue to explore her heat, you sit forwards and bring your face to her breast. "Don't be startled," you murmur, and then you wrap your lips around her.

She gasps, begins to twist away, then just as fast turns back and brings herself against you with a long, vocalized noise of satisfaction.

Now your hands are working in harmony with your tongue as you explore her hardening nub, and her sighs and gasps turn into moans, unfettered by any self-consciousness. Though running along the thin fabric that keeps you from entering her, your fingers are nonetheless sensing a saturation of dampness in that fabric. If you continue, you know that you'll lead her past her edge and into ecstatic oblivion- but if you stop, you may be able to experience her touch once again, this time fueled by her passion and smoothed by her own budding nectar.