The man stayed frustratingly in one place, only ever teasing the edges of her sensitive folds or shy ponut by mistake, or to catch a stray bead of flavor. She wanted to say something, to beg him to move on, but she found herself breathless for the duration of his wet contact. The steady lap…lick…lap… of his tongue didn’t offer a respite, and it all starts to blend together into a white-hot haze. 