>>
|
bfec60.jpg
Spirit Brush
bfec60
You paused as mystical madonna had interrupted your departure. She raised her arm, first touching her breasts, before extending it towards you face. You were somewhat secure in knowing that it hadn’t hurt you yet. Its body language, if one could call it that, had been too wailing to even brush against you. But appearances could always be deceiving.
The first thing to move had been your hands, bitterly cool as the sweat that you’d coated the elevator wall with had drenched your palms. Then you closed in, your face leaning towards the hovering hand. As you sniffed, the ardor and freshness veneered down your nostrils straight to your brain. How crisp, how stretching…
You’d judge the first lick as emasculating, the mellow richness too scarce to let go. You let your tongue get the best of you. Uncaring of anything else that covered it hands, you plunged your lips all around its fingers, stripping them of any milk along with rogue dust and soot. You’d been determined to enjoy every single drop of this, and as you mopped it up, leaving nothing besides gravel skin, you left a trail of saliva, your tongue trying to savor whatever drops are left.
[3/4]
|