I swallow, “Because I am a very dirty girl.”
Instantly his huge tongue presses down on the wet patch. The fabric is virtually translucent, my dark hair visible and my clit feels huge and erect—like I've never experienced. Asa sucks on both the fabric and on my flesh beneath it.
“Oh my God.” I can’t stop myself. I put my hands in his shaggy hair and press his head further forward and down.
“Please,” I whisper, “please.”
His tongue stops.
“Please.” I'm begging him, I have no shame at all.
Asa starts sucking on the cloth again. His hand moves between my thighs. Moving his head away slightly, he slaps my pussy, a stinging slap, then instantly falls back on to it, slurping and sucking at my clit. I forget the sting instantly. But again he stops, pulls back, and I brace myself.
But nothing. He just leaves me hanging for ten seconds, then dives back down.
It seems impossible, but I feel myself getting even wetter. Sucking and tongue swirling, sucking and tongue swirling. One hand goes under my butt, then comes up and grabs the cotton of my dress, pulling it taut and deep into the crease between my legs.
The pressure of the cloth, and one more suck is too much. My knuckles go white as I hold onto the door sill for dear life, and then I explode into his mouth.
Holy cow!
He's gentle now as he presses his warm palm into my crotch. The pressure lets me ride out the final waves of my orgasm perfectly.
When I'm finally done, I drag his face, shiny and dripping with juices, up towards me. Asa presses his forehead against mine, then kisses me.
The most beautiful kiss of my life.
Eventually he pulls back and gives a grin.
“I think I got the stain out,” he says.
???
We drive back to the cabin with the wind in our hair. Asa flicks through the radio. “You really don’t like Clash Towers music?” he asks. “Or is it you just haven’t been exposed to it properly?”
What can I say?
“I’ve heard plenty,” I say eventually. “I also heard he wasn’t a very nice man.” Willie Nelson is playing on the radio now.
“I love Willie Nelson,” I tell him. “He seems like a genuinely good person too.”
“Ahh, Willie! That’s my girl, me too.”
Driving along the twisting roads, he sings along to the radio, and holds my hand.
As we pull up outside the cabin, the first thing we see is a huge bouquet of red roses on the porch.
“Oh, look at that,” Asa says. “Those will be from Lennox.”
“How do you know?” I ask him.
“Red roses? A Lennox signature move—cheesy as fuck. Anyway,” he says, leaning over and kissing me again, “forget Lennox. Please will you have dinner with me tonight? Pretty please.”
He gives me big puppy eyes, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I’d like to, Asa, but I need to stay home. I have to do some work. I’ve got quotas to meet and I’m crazy behind.”
“No worries, sweetheart,” Asa says. “I don’t want to pressure you. I just like you and want to see you some more. In fact I want to see all of you, if you get my drift."
