<hr/><div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/5/53/Onnecamug3.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Onneca de Goni<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Night, After Dinner<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha's Bedroom<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Agatha<br/><hr/><br/>The little bites, madre dios- she had never read of such a thing in her pulps. Each small sting reopened the conduits for pleasure anew and layered delicately atop the last. The tailor's thin olive thighs opened tentatively, shakily, to let Aggy wound her in small ways. Every discomfort was thrilling for the wave of pleasure that surged behind it, and because it was borne of unrestrained passion. The way her fingers curled inside of Onneca, curling up tense toes like a puppeteer pulling the strings, would not be documented in any medical text. The lovely strum of Aggy's attentive fingers could keep her on edge for hours, a slave, but it was those wonderful little bites and the kisses of apology which followed that edged Onneca ever closer.<br/><br/>"Ah," she pleaded, making her climb explicit in her voice,<em>"Ah." </em>Her eager, darting mouth had painted Agatha almost too slippery for friction, and even her determined lips slid when she clasped a wet suckle. There was no penetration by her fingers, though a fingertip did run tight circuits around the nerve-laden starburst of the tinker's neglected back door when her tongue was elsewhere. Her fingers were put to softer uses. A hand splayed to caress and worship the rosy Irish tummy those signals of pleasure zipped up and down, lovingly followed the sexual curve of the woman's spine to remind her brain through touch of how eagerly she offered herself. The leg that lifted from the bed, she isolated and cradled high like a lonesome flagpole, made to thrum with the slither of a sensual finger from the pale tract of inner thigh all the way to the hollow of the ankle. They were places her mouth would like to go, but she could not leave the firm little kernel of Aggy's pleasure for even a moment, now. That would be cruel. Teasingly close sweeps of her tongue boxed in the pink bud, and when it was swelling to chase her at every edge, she sucked.<br/><br/>Her body wanted so badly to climax for Aggy. The tinker held the key to her pleasure, and all it would really take was a little attention, a little teasing, a turn of the key either slow or fast. The task of reciprocating had added string to her fuse, but it was going to happen. It was going to happen now.<em>"Ah, haaah." </em>Delicate knees met behind the nape of Aggy's neck as the protective huddle of her orgasm held her truest love to the rhythmic contraction and weeped nectar of her overstimulated flower. Her mouth murmured to express her pleasure with slippery lips upon Aggy's pink flesh, and her fingers could not help but curl and penetrate the woman's enticed bottom with a trembling, vibrating digit pressed firm inside.<br/><br/>The feeling was a pebble dropped into a calm pond, a quick suck in, and then an ecstatic lunge of water up through the pinhole of escape from tension. The ripples sent shockwaves through every muscle in her body that she could consciously control, and those she could not. The gentle mist of droplets that followed the stone's plunge sat cooling on her skin, electrified to the smallest touch, tingling all over. But, oh, she had wanted to cum with Agatha- through hot pants for breath, her tongue lapped to lavish the whole region of sensation between her lover's thighs, begging her, share this with me, don't make me go into bliss alone.<br/><br/>A satisfaction flooded through her every vein like no other, the glory of God's love to Abraham, exalted beyond all human experience. She was delivered from darkness and uncertainty.