The deep valley between soft breasts, slightly moist and fragrant. The taste on your tongue as you bury your face between mountains of firm, warm flesh. Her nipples like flat saucers, suddenly responding to your breath, to your tongue.
The flat plain of her belly, velvet and covered with perfect, soft, glimmery down. The tiny cavern of her navel, often neglected--but not by you. Oh no, you cannot resist exploring it with the tip of your tongue. The soft cushion, the puffy pillow that you rest your head on, the tautness under the softness. The trembling of her abdomen as you flick all around her sensitive little navel cave.
She parts her legs so eagerly, so easily. You can smell the center of her, the smell of the earth itself, where everything grows. You resist the nearly overwhelming urge to dive in and drown yourself in the wet mossy fertile ground of her.
A Cocktease Torment For Ms. Piper's Pet