I'm still staring at him but he has stopped. Why? I notice the street lights reflect off some beads of sweat on his top lip. Why did he stop? Then I n...tice the feeling on my leg. Looking down I see his hand is gripping the gear stick tightly, so tightly in fact I can just about make out the whiteness of his knuckles. The shocking sight is the fact that I am rubbing my knee up and down against the back of his hand. Jesus, it's me doing it. Again I look out the window, I don't stop, I just look. He doesnt enter my still sensitive body though. Instead he slides down the bed quickly and stops with his face hovering over my sex, his hands clamped onto my thighs, tenderly pulling them apart. Ah, this looks familiar. Dipping his head down, he runs his tongue slowly over the soft folds of my opening. His sensuous soft tongue moves like deliciously hot water, flowing over and around my little nub. Whatever his mouth touches becomes wet with his fluids and mine. When he moves, a shiver. More

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