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Knuckles' face was crouched on the same level with the thin pink folds of flesh that covered her vagina and, as he watched with gleaming eyes, they slowly parted of their own volition to the guiding motion of his thumbs. He could see all of her soft smooth cunt and the glistening moisture of her secretions upon her inner flesh for with the easing of the pain and the fatigue of her resistance, she had let her buttocks slip wider and wider apart.Knuckles, grinning lewdly, breathed hard and blew softly into her. She squirmed and he could hear a faint groan slipping from between her now open lips. She tried to move slightly, but her movements were not those of escape or fear but of reflex from the feather-like touch of his hands and breath against the tenderness of her unprotected flesh.With a sudden lewd expression, the youth raised his head to press his face into the perfumed wetness of his teacher's vaginal slit. She squirmed slightly and he tightened his hands on her buttocks so that. Blue gave way to pale gold, shapes of basic humanity, a journey from tiptoed feet to fuzzy neck hair, via routes of elegant, uncomplicated exposure. A land that is ours, and ours alone. Her fingertips, soft, pink buttons, and nails in blue, slide over my bare hips and chest. My lips sample her ear, palms sample the curve of her spine. Nothing else, just that, heartbeat after heartbeat. I marvel in this newfound glory, the first such sight and sensation I can recall, but still so familiar. There is no need, no urgency to rush. A little closer, a fraction yet, and her pink nipples dance on my chest, back and forth, over and over. They push a little harder on the inhale, almost lose contact on the exhale. I match my breathing to hers, and lean in yet a little bit, pull her waist closer and feel the exquisite warmth of a body shivering in pleasure. Softness of skin, tenderness of light caresses, her hair tickling my shoulder and a face serenely leaned against my neck. We step, we.
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