This was where she was most comfortable, Gerlinde thought as she undulated her mouth like a punctured anemone around the spike of Lisle kitty's clitoris.  Not sucking - no, rather, teaching.  Explaining how things worked.<br/><br/>Gerlinde had been born in a Munich hospital, but her home was a Munich lectern, a Munich anarchist's teach-in, a Munich library study hall.  She was at home here, and glowed with that peculiar sense of completion that one felt when snug in a place that fit their shape exactly.<br/><br/>She lifted her head from the jutting flesh and, keeping its gristly tension balancing the veiny underside of her tongue, she tapped and stroked it with her words.<br/><br/>"That is just how it feels.  And then...you begin to<em>move</em>."<br/><br/>She dove her head down again, lips open just enough to allow the round tip to pierce them.  They did not part; they clenched down softly in emulation of a vagina's clasp.  Her tongue quivered busily about the head, rubbing it with fevered ripples.  Her cheeks massaged it.  She moaned in a staggered rhythm, voicing her pleasure and letting the rumble of breath froth about the shaft of clitoral meat clasped so tightly.<br/><br/>Then, she began to move.  Her throat buzzing and catching, Gerlinde shifted her head like hips might shift, in a subtle pistoning and definite grinding.  She churned her face like Lisle kitty's hips might churn around her cock, and tensed suddenly like Lisle kitty's sheath might tense, and slid lovingly up and down, suckling at the bud.<br/><br/>Throughout, her eyes stayed in Lisle kitty's, flashing their lesson as she worked steadily to incite a crescendo of pleasure.<br/><br/>