Page 50 of Be My Summer

She squirmed. The pressure of my persistence for her mounting was becoming too much for her, yet it was just enough for her to reach the point of no return. The point I wanted her. The point I needed her. The point I wouldn’t stop until she reached.

I honed in on her clit, sucking it into my mouth and circling it with my tongue. The distance between her legs began to shorten.

Second after second after second.

I found myself trapped between her thighs. I was exactly where I wanted to be. I didn’t want to be rescued. I’d die between her legs a very happy, very satisfied man.

“Fuck, baby.”

I was drenched in her gratification. It was plentiful. Pleasurable. Immeasurable.

“Baby,” Summer cried. “I’m– uhhh– I’m going to c– yessss.”

“As you should,” I reminded her, inserting my index and middle fingers inside of her. I twisted them and began beckoning for her orgasm. Her body attempted to fold in half. Her fingertips sank into the skin of my shoulders.

“Saaaulllll–”

“That’s it, baby. Get your shit off.”

“Uhhhh.”

“Um hmmmm. Let go. Let go right on my tongue.”

“Oh my G– Babbbbbby.”

Summer panted, trying her hardest to hold onto the inevitable.

“Breathe, baby. I’ve got you.”

I grabbed her left hand, slithering my fingers through hers.

“Uhhhhhhhh.”

“There it is. Let it go, baby.”

Summer did as she was told. She unfolded like flowers in the heart of spring. Her center erupted. She drenched nearly every strand of hair on my face.

“Saul–”

“Shhhhh. Quiet down,” I advised as I shoved my pants down my waist.

She was glistening.

“I thought you said you would be quiet, Summer?” I teased, unable to keep my eyes off her centerpiece.

It was glorious.

“Hmm?” I asked, lowering my lips onto hers.

We were chest to chest.

Stomach to stomach.

Nose to nose.

Face to face.

“Uhhhhhhhh.”