Miles goes down on Gina

He reaches up and takes her hand, pulling her gently to her feet.

Miles: my turn.

Gina: your turn to what.

Miles: let me show you what I can do with my mouth.

Gina looks at him for a moment. Then she stands up fully in front of him.

He reaches forward and hooks his fingers into the waistband of her white shorts, pulling them down slowly. She steps out of them without being asked.

She is left standing in just her white silk panties, the fabric thin enough to leave very little to the imagination. He takes his time looking, his hands at her hips, his thumbs moving slowly against her skin.

She is still standing. He is still sitting on the couch.

He turns her around gently, his hands guiding her hips until her back is to him. He pulls her toward him and bends her forward slightly, her hands finding the coffee table in front of her for balance.

He puts his mouth on her through the silk.

Gina: oh.

She goes still immediately, her weight shifting forward onto her hands. He kisses her slowly through the fabric, his breath warm, his lips moving with unhurried patience.

His hands slide around her hips to her front. His fingers find the waistband of her panties and slip inside, moving slowly downward until they find her clit. He works it in small gentle circles while his mouth continues moving against the silk.

Gina: oh my god.

His fingers move steadily, his mouth pressing against her through the fabric, both working in a slow building rhythm. She drops her head forward, her hair falling around her face.

Gina: oh. Oh that's. She cannot finish the sentence.

He does not rush. He keeps the pressure exactly where it is, his fingers unhurried, his mouth warm against her, reading every sound she makes and staying precisely where those sounds tell him to stay.

Gina: oh god. Oh my god. She grips the coffee table. right there. Please right there.

He stays right there.

She comes with her head dropped forward and both hands gripping the coffee table, shaking, a long exhale leaving her that she makes no effort to contain.

He does not stop.

His fingers keep moving, slower now, drawing out every last wave. She is still trembling when he hooks his fingers into her panties and draws them down slowly, letting them fall to the floor around her feet.

She starts to straighten up.

His hands find her hips and keep her exactly where she is.

He lifts her right leg and guides it up and over his shoulder, opening her completely. Then he puts his mouth directly on her pussy.

Gina: oh FUCK.

His tongue moves with the same patience as before but with nothing between them now, direct and precise, finding exactly what made her come the first time and returning to it without hesitation.

Gina: oh god. Oh my god. She grabs his hair with her free hand. I just. She breathes hard. I literally just. Oh my god.

He does not acknowledge this. He keeps going.

Her grip in his hair tightens. Her standing leg is shaking slightly, her weight shifting between his shoulder and the coffee table, her whole body concentrating on the single point of what his mouth is doing.

Gina: oh no. She says it with genuine disbelief. oh no no no. Already? Oh my— oh FUCK.

The second orgasm hits her like an aftershock, rolling through her body from the point of his mouth outward, her grip on his hair tightening to the point of pain, her whole body shuddering above him.

He holds her steady through every wave, his hands firm on her hips, his mouth not moving from where it is until she has nothing left.

She sags forward, both hands back on the coffee table, her leg sliding off his shoulder slowly.

Silence.

Then her breathing, ragged and unsteady, filling the quiet room.

Gina: She says it into the middle distance, completely wrecked. what the fuck was that.

Miles: he looks up at her. that was me returning the favor.