Janet felt his presence everywhere. She lay back on the bed, resting her head on the pillow, and waited. The knot of pain in her chest strangled her. Why was he taking so long? She moved her fingers along the willowy contours of her hips and across the soft pubic mound. She was wet from the juice pouring out of her slit. She rubbed her fingers across the lips of her cunt and brushed them against the clitoris that rose up like a throbbing flower bud.

She gasped, sucking in air.

"Hey, what are you doing?" Morgan said.

"Nothing," she answered, afraid to tell him. Her clitoris sent jolts of pleasure rocketing back through the sleeve of her cunt and up the sides of her spine. It made her body vibrate like a tuning fork. Her ripe odors flared her nostrils, filling the room with a heavy, musky scent.

The bed sagged as Tim Morgan rolled over to her side, his hand fondling her breast. She moved clumsily. Janet was surprised to find his other hand stroking her cunt. He seemed to know exactly what to do. Every wiggle of flesh, every roll of her hip set off another pleasure spasm. He moved up and down her body, kneading her muscles, caressing, probing, stimulating every nerve. They said nothing for several minutes; it was enough that his hands touched her and that she responded.

Then with a rustle of movement, his head was between her quivering thighs and his tongue was licking the soft cunt folds while fingers crept lower along her buttocks. He raised her hips and drove his tongue into her slit.

"Aaaahhhh!" she gasped. She struggled, trying to move away. Morgan embarrassed her. My God, his face was on her twat, down there between her legs! She had heard jokes about such things, but he was doing it! Eating her cunt! Eating and licking her cunt with his tongue! She twisted on the crisp sheet, now damp with her sweat, feeling the fingers holding her butt cheeks and she shuddered. Humiliation pulsated like a living thing!