<div class="floatleft">(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/9/9a/Steam_baby-avi.jpg)</div><br/><strong>Name:</strong>Agatha Dunwich<br/><strong>Faction:</strong>Unknown<br/><strong>Date:</strong>May 3rd, 1876<br/><strong>Time of Day:</strong>Evening<br/><strong>Location:</strong>Agatha's House<br/><strong>Tagged:</strong>Onneca<br/><hr/><br/>Any concerns of company hearing them or God forbid coming to investigate the sounds beginning to issue from underneath doors or worming their way between door and frame scattered like startled butterflies from Agatha’s mind as she felt that wonderful mouth began to explore her in earnest.  She curled her hips trying to give Onneca as much access to her as she could and she shuddered in delight as Onneca’s pink muscle coaxed more of her pleasure from her.  The awkward slip brought another wiggle of pleasure and Agatha’s finger nails bit into the olive cushions they held firm too.<br/><br/>The hot exhale of Agatha’s breath warmed Latin thighs.  Dark chocolate cosmos petals unfurrowed under the presence of Agatha’s nimble tongue, brushing from hood to base, coating it with sticky nectar.  Where Onneca was an artist, painting a masterpiece of ecstasy with her mouth that caused the legs she encircled in her arms to quiver and squirm in unabashed delight, Agatha was a tinkerer.  She loved to experiment, to explore and above all test boundaries.  Would Onneca enjoy the tender sweep of a tongue, the seal of soft lips suckling her clitoris, the feel of those nails pressed into flesh?   Agatha tried them all.  Pearly white teeth nibbled at the lovely dark fold of Onny’s inner labia just prior to her tongue sliding between them to dip deep inside.<br/><br/>Her lips uttered soft moans and groans and twitters of delight when Onneca’s tongue reached a spot or motion of particular enjoyment.  It was the most delightful distraction, the most exquisite preoccupation.   It wasn’t just her mouth that tested and explored when her breathing came to quick and her pleasure started to peak her hands, a maker’s hands joined the slippery delight that coated Agatha’s lips exploring when her mouth was unable.  She thumbed across Onneca’s engorged clit, milky with drizzled nectar, hooked fingers plumbed inside of her warm tightening canal to strum firmly along the walnut sized bundle of nerves she found there.  As she neared ecstasy her fingers strummed like a mariachi and her breath pumped heavy and quick.  The more she senses picked up in Onneca’s growing heat the quicker she was driven towards her own climax.<br/>