Marcy felt his hot, wet tongue search through the curling blonde tendrils that covered her mound, locate the open pink petals, and slither between them.
"Ohhh, what – what are you doing?" she wailed, as the tongue drew back and then stabbed at the sensitive clit. "D-don't do that! Take your tongue out of my privates!"
Villiers' head jerked up in surprise. "Your what?"
"My privates," Marcy repeated.
"My God, girl, must you be so mid-Victorian? This slit between your legs is a cunt! I told you that before. It's a cunt, a repository for the male cock! In a very short time, I intend to give you empirical evidence of that."
He used his fingers to open her wider, and plunged his tongue deep into the molten cavity of her throbbing pussy.
"I asked you to stop that," Marcy gasped. "I'm a respectable girl, and I don't allow men to…" Her voice drifted away in a lovely pink fog that had come from nowhere to enfold her.
"Perhaps you would prefer this?" Villiers said, taking her hand and moving it to his swollen shaft. She felt the heavy flesh resting in her palm, and trembled, unable to separate her terror from an equally strong longing.
His tongue was avidly at work now, gliding over the slippery surface of the swollen cunt lips and pausing frequently to lick at the tiny clit, where all her wild new sensations seemed centered.
"Please – oh, please," she moaned, unaware that her hand had closed over the giant cock and was clinging to it tightly. Her protests trailed off into a series of whimpers and uncontrollable squeals.