/lit/ - Literature

>He remembered awakening naked on a soft surface... a sleeping pad. His hands recognized it. Murbella unclothed just above him, green eyes staring at him with a terrible intensity. She touched him simultaneously in many places. A soft humming issued from between her lips.
>He felt the swift erection, painful in its rigidity.
>Murbella murmured in his right ear: "My hands are fire."
>No power of resistance remained in him. Her hands moved over his body. Her tongue. The humming! All around him, her mouth touching him. The nipples of her breasts grazed his cheeks, his chest. When he saw her eyes, he saw conscious design.
>Duncan hummed softly and touched her, moving with an agility that shocked Murbella. He should not be this responsive! Not this way! His right hand fluttered against the lips of her vagina while his left hand caressed the base of her spine. At the same time, his mouth moved gently over her nose, down to her lips, down to the crease of her left armpit.
>And all the time he hummed softly in a rhythm that pulsed through her body, lulling... weakening...
>She tried to push away from him as he increased the pace of her responses.
>How did he know to touch me there at just that instant? And there! And there! Oh, Holy Rock of Dur, how does he know this?
>Duncan marked the swelling of her breasts and saw the congestion in her nose. He saw the way her nipples stood out stiffly, the areolae darkening around them. She moaned and spread her legs wide.
>Desperate energy flowed into Murbella. She responded in the only way she knew: touching, caressing - using all of the techniques she had learned so carefully in the long years of her apprenticeship.
>To each thing she did, Duncan produced a wildly stimulating countermove.