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“Makes sense,” I said vaguely, my mind on her busy hands.
I felt my jeans being pushed down my hips, which were curvy and fuller than Angelina’s. She pulled them all the way down, and pushed each of my legs out of its corresponding jean leg. Now I was naked, and despite the heat, the room all of a sudden grew chilly. I could feel goose bumps crawling across my flesh.
Laying on her bed, eyes closed, Pat Savage felt a wet tongue playfully licking her left nipple, sliding along it but not sucking the hardened little bud into the warm mouth from which it came. "Oooh, that feels nice," she cooed. "Whose tongue is that? Can I open my eyes now, please? Pretty please?"
The tongue left her tit, which remained slick and shiny with saliva. A woman's voice laughed, "Aww, poor baby, she wants to see, does she? You can't tell the difference in our tongues, hmmm? I'm hurt! Well, alright, you can look all you want, Miss Impatient!"
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The bronze woman's golden-flecked orbs instantly flicked opened, eagerly drinking in the sight before her.
For Pat Savage was not alone in her bed. Joining her on the crumpled silk sheets to the left of her lithe form was Melissa. The diminutive brunette was dressed to match Pat--in her birthday suit. Perky, cherry-tipped breasts greeted Pat's eyes, which hungrily travelled down the young woman's scrumptious young body. She was kneeling on the bed next to Pat, smiling at her lover, her hands on her knees, momentarily obscuring her most intimate feminine charms from sight. Pat's momentary frustration at not being able to see Melissa's oh-so-pretty flower was quickly tempered by the thought that in a few minutes, she would not only be seeing it but inhaling its delightful bouquet and drinking its nectar.
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