"I thought you might want to turn around," he suggested. "Lay on top of me."

She flipped over quickly, positioning herself over his mouth again, even reaching her hand down between her legs to spread her lips, pressing her finger-there-showing him the spot. She felt laughter rippling through his chest which was pressed against her bare belly. She blushed, pressing her hot face against his crotch. He moaned then, no longer laughing. She smiled, rubbing her cheek against the denim and then used her soft, warm hand. He lifted his hips slightly so she could pull them down-jeans and boxers-enough to expose him.

She was free to look, to touch, free of his eyes watching her, and so she did. Her fingertips grazed the head, the shaft, her short nails lightly scratching his scrotum. He shifted when she did that, but didn't tell her no. She lifted their curiously heavy weight in her hand, and then let them fall. The tip of him was wet, and when she kissed it, she could taste him. He groaned then, arching his back and pressing against her mouth.

"Patience, kitten," he murmured. "The longer we do this, the better it feels."

His fingers had found her now, rubbing the length of her wetness, and then his tongue found her, too, and she whimpered, spreading her legs wider. She started licking at him, just the tip at first, then the shaft, loving the feel of his response.

She wrapped her hand around the base and tugged at him, easing the skin up over the tip and back down again. He seemed to like that. His hips moved with her, and when she put the whole head of him into her mouth, he moaned right against her clit and made her shiver.