Phillip unzipped her miniskirt and eased it over her hips. His hands trembled as he slipped the garment down her thighs and off her legs. He cast it away.

Surprisingly he began to kiss her feet, her ankles, her calves, his mouth working up toward her steaming cunt. When he paused at her knees, she flopped her legs open, offering him a good look at the red meat of her pussy.

He began to lick the warm flesh. His tongue brushed lightly across the velvety inner region of her thighs. When he was within several inches of her pulsating pussy, he tasted her cunt juices, still flowing down her thighs. He imagined the thick bush of her cunt winking smugly at him. He gulped, as much in fear as from his arousal. He had seen pictures of wide-open cunts, but he had never been this close to a juicing cunt in his life. He was drawn to it like a magnet.

He nuzzled between her thighs, his face so close to her pussy that she could feel his hot breath even through the silk of her panties.

He kissed her then, right on the dampness of her crotch, felt the flesh beneath the fabric oozing softly and saturating the crotch. She moaned and pushed herself up to him, lost in her own lust, stoking the flames of need.

"Oh, God, kiss my pussy!" she whispered wildly, quivering and undulating in savagely eager jerks. She clamped her legs tightly about his head, entrapping him in their viselike grip, holding him to her.

He fought to get out, and she was afraid she had frightened him with her boldness, but the need was getting stronger within her cunt, was coursing trough her tits. She bucked and rolled to the strange rhythm, the erotic sensations of her need making her place her heels on the couch and push her pussy upward.