[ Her hips buck, arch to his mouth, a generous squirming that precedes a slew of satisfied sounds that come from deep in her throat. She tries to hold them back, but they come out with a steadily mounting volume. Always soft, shared with breath. Reserved, but less so over time.
It's easy to lose herself in it. He's eager to please and skilled and pays attention to her cues. She doesn't have to stay focused on him, doesn't have to wrestle with searching for her own satisfaction. Instead she lets her head loll back against the pillow and writhes.
Soon enough she's scrambling, that tension in her gut mounting, ratcheting, and her heels scramble against his back. Even at the edge, she can't turn those lilting moans into words to ask for what she wants. ]
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It's easy to lose herself in it. He's eager to please and skilled and pays attention to her cues. She doesn't have to stay focused on him, doesn't have to wrestle with searching for her own satisfaction. Instead she lets her head loll back against the pillow and writhes.
Soon enough she's scrambling, that tension in her gut mounting, ratcheting, and her heels scramble against his back. Even at the edge, she can't turn those lilting moans into words to ask for what she wants. ]