He read her an old poem that she didn’t remember hearing before, Cornish Cliffs. It was a perfect description of this place, this day. Those moments... tasted once and never done, Of long surf breaking in the mid-day sun… As he read, she watched his mouth. His stubble, not yet full enough to wear a mustache, as he wished he might. The cool, clear, olive colored skin that never seemed to break a sweat. The fine features, almost feminine in their perfection and daintiness. … And in the shadowless,. Becky’s reaction was immediate and intense.“Ohhh Fuuuck!!” she cried out, bending double over me.She pressed my head hard into her crotch, smashing my nose against her pelvis and pushing my mouth against her pussy in an attempt to shove my whole head into her in some weird reverse childbirth!My tongue began its work, seeking every nook and crevice where a drop of her precious honey might try to hide. As my tongue squirmed and wriggled inside her, Becky squirmed and wriggled on my bed. I put my. More

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