#Pervember 5: Rimming

It’s such a sensitive spot. Hidden, tucked away from all but the most intimate of perspectives, a convergence of tightly-gathered muscle and nerves awaits.

Lick me

A twitch, almost indiscernible to the eye. Shift of flesh; a gasp from above, perhaps a moan.

Soft press of tongue to skin again, the pointed tip describing lazy circles across and around.

Definitely a moan that time. Pleasure, shock, shameful excitement? We’re given so much weight to carry, each part of ourselves bearing a different burden; of fear, of expectation, of convention and control – it’s a wonder that any of us manage to reach through these armouring adornments to find the elementary pleasures of the flesh beneath.

Abandon shame. Between us consenting adults, if it feels good, it is good. So many nerve endings in this secret place; it would be a pity not to explore all of the ways in which we can exchange pleasure within.

Lips pressed to the rose, tongue darting between with hummingbird touch and honeybee focus; let us find the core of your satisfaction and my titillation, celebrate them together, set aside the arid Puritanism that would deny our natures and our desires.

Lick me

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