Her hands moved to his head, clutching at his hair, pressing him tighter to her. His tongue darted down, brushing the rim of her opening, tasting her ...erfumed wetness. Her knees drew higher, her feet pressed against the bed, pushing her hips up, tighter against his mouth. His tongue drove deeper into her and she writhed beneath him. Her breathing hotter and faster, her hips rolling to meet him with each thrust. His tongue moved across her lips, circling her opening, then down, caressing the. The two of them communed for the better part of two hours, starting with his tail wrapped lightly around her wrist. He'd first proposed sitting on her shoulder as he did mine with the tail touching her neck, but she quickly vetoed that idea; she had, apparently, something of a phobia about things coming near her throat. Understandable in a singer, I supposed, though it had never bothered me. Idly I wondered whether that might change in time, now that I'd found my full voice.The wrist thing,. More

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