Chapter 67

/// Supratika's Narration ///

Hands are often cold. Frigid fingers excite the body, provoking it to draw away, but grasping warmth encourages embraces. So we move from separation to sensual union.

Mouths. Mouths are warm, breath sputters erratically with words of love and dreams of debauchery. Fingertips on skin, teeth grazing necks and ears, tongues dancing on bones and lips alike.

And breath, always breath. It starts so smooth, goes ragged, groans with the irrepressible volume of release—and the enviable torment of the precipice that precedes release. Hu uh hu uh oooh.

Short hairs contrast smooth skin; the smoothest in the tenderest places. Engorged skin is always firm, but the pulsing vulva is softer, warmer, and welcomes with sweet nectar. Akara offers something different, a firm and intrusive compliment to my gaping maws.