He’s hasn’t been between your legs long but you already know you won’t last. He knows every part of you like the back of his hand. He knows where to lick and suck and flick. When he bites the inside of your thigh you moan and tug on his hair which only encourages him more. When he does it again, it’s harder and you yelp in surprise. He licks the spot and gently kisses it but that doesn’t stop him from doing it again in a different spot. Your yelp mixes with a moan and while it hurts, he knows you like the sting. He watches through hooded eyes as you writhe under his touch and he laps at you like he needs it to survive. Because he does.
When you wake up the next morning, your thigh is speckled with purple marks and he kisses each one, taking his time to softly caress them.
He frowns and you ask him what’s wrong. “I’ve completely neglected the other,” he says as he nips at the unblemished skin of your other leg and you prepare yourself for round two.
Toad's Cave 