It took Laswell a long time to get used to the idea that you loved going down on her. That you relished the feel of her cunt on your tongue, her soft thighs and how they hold you tight in your place between them, as if you'd ever give up the tart ambrosia her sex had to offer.
Wrapping your arms under her thighs and holding, squeezing her hips feels like a hug, like coming home.
"Gooood girl, sweet girl," Laswell sighs, gentle fingers petting your head as you settle into your place, knelt before her chair. Nosing her sensible cotton panties to the side and holding them there with fingers hooked in the elastic so you can suck her into your mouth.
The soft praise melts into a low, needy groan. It makes you feel good to make her feel good- little pinpricks of pleasure traveling down your spine at how quickly Laswell melts into your ministrations. You flex and straighten your tongue, diving between her lips.
The world goes quiet as Laswell's thighs squeeze together involuntarily, your ears fully covered. You peek and can see her hands are now at her sides, squeezed into trembling fists.
"Taste so good f'me," you moan and pant against her clit.
Lips never leaving her pussy, the words just had to escape you. You mean it. She tastes like fucking heaven. Not like chocolates or strawberries or whatever else shitty romance books might imagine up- Laswell tastes like sex. She tastes like salty hedonism and tangy pleasure and musky atonement and she tastes like the fucking love of your life.
Her hips buck up at your words, your voice, your praise. She gives a weak gasp, her eyelids heavy as she looks down at you with a dizzy smile. You meet her gaze with a flat tongue wiping up her cunt.
"Fuck, sweetheart, you really know how to-" Laswell's words are cut short when you repeat the motion. Your entire world is narrowed down to Laswell, how your nose feels being buried against her light blonde thatch of hair. "Know how to drive me crazy honey."
Drawing her clit into your mouth again, you can feel her thighs flex again when she notices your fingers dipping into her pussy. Just two fingers gliding in up to the first knuckle and out with ease, teasing.
Due to being past menopause, it takes much longer for Laswell to warm up to being penetrated, even by fingers. She's also got the refractory period of about two business days, so she usually prefers just one orgasm. Usually. Most of the time like this you make her cum before you get to the point of fucking her, which you're fine with as long as she's happy.
With your tongue swirling around her clit and the smell of her heavy in the air and- fucking hell- the sounds she's making like you're hand delivering her a slice of heaven- you're moaning yourself, sound vibrating against the sensitive bud.
Your tongue doesn't stop swirling her clit, but you open your mouth again, panting.
"Yea?" You ask, the words sounding loose from your numb libs and occupied tongue.
"F-fuck, yeah-" Her hips are bucking erratically now, chasing the swiftly approaching release that has her eyes falling closed entirely.
Your fingers leave her hole, instead taking the place of your tongue. You know how to work her, it doesn't interrupt her descent into madness.
"Yeah? Gonna cum for me? Please, please, please..." Your voice is hoarse, desperate. Like it mattered more to you that she finished than it did to her. "Cum for me, please, lemme see it."
You can see the tendons in her arms flexing as she grips her chair, see how her entire body tenses and relaxes in these slow pulses, crashing waves growing stronger with every circle drawn by your fingers on her clit. She's there, she's teetering at the edge, and you're like a dog wagging your tail looking at a treat in your master's hand.
"Please," You whine, pussydrunk and enraptured at the sight of her. "Please mommy, cum-"
If her mouth hadn't slammed shut, she might have openly screamed. Her knees crash together as her body shakes, her head thrown back. When she returns to you, looking down with heavy drunken eyes, you can tell immediately she isn't done.
"Bed, now." She's breathless.
You don't snark back. You don't question. You're like her personal little soldier, following every order to the letter. You're also so pent up that you don't have much blood flow going to your brain to think of doing anything other than obedience. It's quickly rewarded, it's how you end up with Laswell moaning prettily on your lap, her fingers circling her clit as she slowly sinks herself down on you.
You keep your hands to yourself, letting Laswell take her time. The sight is entertainment of it's own, the flush in her cheeks intoxicating. Every little huff of breath making her chest rise and fall in turn making your mouth water. The crazed woman didn't even bother taking off those panties of hers, just shoved them to the side. Impatient, perfect minx. The lighting perfectly highlighted the gorgeous stretch marks on her hips and breasts, your eyes raking in every inch where you wanted your tongue.
"Say it again," Laswell directed.
Obviously, you didn't need to ask what she meant.
