Gently Bitten

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Kneel

"Kneel."

My knees bend instinctively as soon as I hear your command-- I swear, you've almost trained my body to respond to you without my even thinking about it, and my breath catches just contemplating that idea-- and I have a good notion what's coming next.  I suspected when you beckoned me into this little curtained alcove off a back hallway, still close enough to the main party that the sounds of laughter float down the corridor from further up, but out-of-the-way enough that nobody is likely to come on us by accident.

Even as my knees touch the hardwood floor, you're slipping a silk necktie over my eyes and knotting it behind my head.  I think it's one of mine, actually-- you must have been going through my dresser again.  You nudge me into the alcove and then I feel you squeezing past me, and then hear the sounds of a dress being pulled up, panties slipping down.

I know *exactly* what's coming next, and when I feel a hand brushing over my hair and down my face the way you always do, and then pulling my head forward, I open my mouth eagerly, already searching with my tongue.

I have time for just an instant of disorientation before I taste delicious soft folds of flesh, and I explore them more slowly than usual before the first sweet moan lets me know why I was confused.

That isn't your voice.

It wasn't your scent that I smelled, in the moment before.  It isn't your cunt that I'm tongueing.  The hand pulls my head in closer though, insistent, when I hesitate, and I quickly set to licking again.  "Good boy," you purr, from somewhere above me.

Whoever she is, she makes good noises.  I keep trying to guess, but every time I start to have an idea about it, I'm distracted by her enthusiasm, her excitement, her eagerness, her responsiveness to my tongue.  I lick up the length of her, and then slowly narrow in on a spot that seems to be the most fun right now.

It moves a little.  I chase it.  The fingers of both of her hands are wrapped in my hair now, and her thighs are tense around my head.  It won't be long now.  She couldn't stop it anymore if she wanted to.  I can hear you murmuring something to her, but I can't make out the words.  But the sound of your voice is like liquid sex for me anyway, and I'm almost on the edge just from hearing it.  I'd like to put a hand down between my own legs, but I've wound up holding onto her thighs with both of mine, and something about the way her legs clench tells me she's really enjoying the groping.

She gets just the first quarter-note of a long drawn-out scream out before you cover her mouth, and she's shuddering around my head-- I can feel her pussy shivering under my tongue as her whole body spasms.

You pull me up by the collar, whisper "go back to the party.  Don't look back" in my ear, and boot me out of the alcove, somehow retaining the necktie as you do.

Not looking back is one of the hardest things I've done in a long time.  I spend the rest of the evening looking closely at faces, hoping for a hint.

Wondering who I taste like.