Lon opened his mouth to reply, a soliloquy on the charms she did offer, a gentlemanly admission that she didn't have to do anything she didn't want to. Before the words could emerge, however, she had dropped to her knees, leaving him holding an empty sack of cloth that somehow appeared sad and misshapen without her supple curves to fill and define it. He glanced down, prepared again to speak, but again he was interrupted; the feel of her breath was like a warm summer breeze across his skin, and it scattered the leaves of his thoughts away, leaving him quite unable to remember just what had been so important for him to say in the first place. Instead of words he issued forth a sigh instead, a mixture of contentment and amazement. He looked down, along his body, and devoured the sight of her, full pert breasts partially occluded as she worked along him, the view adding spice to wonderful sensation. He let the shirt drop forgotten to the floor next to him, as one hand came up, and gently stroked her cheek, forehead, and hair.