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[The length of her torso isn't quite extensive enough to make this easy, and while he lifts his head as she leans forward, trying to maintain their contact, it's not exactly comfortable. It'll strain his neck if he does it for too long.

That won't be for a while, though. For the time being, he seems to be able to suck and lick with a firm tongue automatically: it keeps him from making more than a soft, helpless noise when she takes the head of his cock into her mouth. He flexes his fingers into a grip on her thighs. Only one or two things in the physical realm have ever felt better in his life, and they've all entered it in the past twenty-four hours.

To encourage her, he tries to keep his tongue moving faster, and he straightens his left arm and tries to find her breast with his hand, intending to cup and massage it.]

[ She hums a high-pitched sound and starts sucking on the head of his cock when he finds her breast. Reciprocation seems to be the name of the game—escalating things when he escalates, and waiting for him to return the favor. She's not impatient, but she does tip her hips back and forth a little to encourage him to keep a consistent motion up with his tongue.

Soon enough she finds that it's time to broaden the scope of what she's doing, which necessitates pulling away from his mouth just a tad, like she'd predicted. It's strange, though—she seems programmed to find blow-jobs enjoyable, and to know exactly how to execute them, yet when she draws him fully into her mouth she gags a little. A limitation of the body she's been placed in, it seems. She avoids repeating the mistake, sucking him to about half the depth of her mouth, bobbing her mouth up and down his shaft. She interrupts this action now and then with a broad lick, a circle around the head, in a repetition of her initial act. ]

[When she takes him further into her mouth, his head falls back, and he moans -- but she gags, so he strokes her thigh encouragingly with the hand that's still on it.

It seems that it's easier for her to take less of him into her mouth the same way it's easier for him not to try to maintain the contact of his mouth with her clit. He frees his arm from under her leg -- carefully -- then reaches between them so that he can stimulate her with his hand. He slips his thumb into her and touches her with his index finger, but there isn't much room to move them.

Can this get much better? He needs further information, and he gets it when the velvet stroke of her hot tongue awakens something new, something that he feels at his core. He's not particularly close to coming, but he moans again.]

Oh! Allison.

[ He's smart enough not to leave her unstimulated, and she welcomes the feeling of his hand against her, being wet enough from his tongue for the change in sensation not to matter too much. The places where he touches her are tingling with her desire for him. She whimpers again and chances drawing him further into her mouth on the next pass.

And then he calls her name. That cements it—being called Allison by him is very different from being called Allison by someone else. She shudders a little to hear it, then thrusts her hips down against his hand, bobbing her head a touch faster as she continues to suck at him. She pauses to give him another broad lick with her tongue—this time she passes it over his foreskin and down his shaft to his balls, and she sucks on them for a few moments before returning to the head.]

[He catches her little shudder. He hadn't called her name as an experiment... it hadn't been intentional at all. She had pulled it out of him in quite a different way than he would have said it if he were using it as a tool. Her reaction strongly implies that she liked it, but he doesn't know if it's because it's her name, or because of the way she's drawn it from him.

When her mouth is on his balls, he clutches her breast tightly for a moment, then releases it and slaps down on the mattress beside them with the flat of his hand, making a sound of pleasure and exasperation.

How is this so good? He'd had an idea of rolling around with her in bed, kissing her and leaning down over her and feeling her legs around his waist, and it now seems that projection might have involved excessive optimism on his part... he may not make it that long. His torso struggles under her; his toes curl. It's all he can do to maintain any sort of rhythm or motion on her with his hand.]

[ Her mouth comes off his dick just enough to speak. ]

No, no—

[ She reaches blindly back for his hand, the one that had hit the mattress. She overreaches, or something—she doesn't find it. ]

Me, hit me.

[This is where his flexibility comes into play. He's not sure that hitting anyone does anything for him. Very likely, it doesn't -- not in the way that control does. But to an extent, he knows that he'll do what he needs to do to take a situation to where it wants to be... and anyway, she's the one with the safe word. If she's asking for this and not talking about elephants, it's what she wants.

He moves his hand up from the mattress to her thigh, then rests it against her bottom, then delivers a small, sharp slap.]

Good?

Edited 2016-09-16 02:12 (UTC)

[ She has returned to sucking his cock, not intending to leave him wanting, but she sort of lets out a snort when he asks that. He's always so delicate with her until she shows him how hard she wants things. She leaves that alone, though, figuring they can either address it later or he'll figure it out on his own. ]

[That didn't sound precisely like a noise of approval, although he can't tell whether the snort is over the slap or the fact that he asked her about it. His breathing hitches, then he lets out a soft resigned sigh.

It's not tempting to slap her too hard when his cock is in her mouth, but he tries again, harder and sharper, and waits for a sign rather than asking her for an opinion.]

[ Better—still not ideal, but better. Anyway, she's mostly concentrating on his pleasure at this point. A good slap would be most appreciated when he's pounding her from behind or similar anyway, and she's certainly not going to insist on a change in position for that.

In any case she lets out a hum, a more approving sound, tips her hips against his hand, and moves her own hand to the base of his shaft to begin pumping the lower half of his penis in time with the movements of her mouth. This leaves her in a tripod position, supporting her weight on three limbs, but she knows this will bring him closer to climaxing. She brings her mouth off his cock with a wet pop, licks broadly at his foreskin, and then starts bobbing her head again, faster and harder. ]

[He tries to keep working at her with his hand, but it's hard to concentrate on anything else now. He feels so many sensations at once, all in the same sensitive area: heat, the wetness of her mouth and softness of her tongue, the friction from her hand.

She overwhelms him. He shakes under her and clutches at her hip with the hand that isn't inside her. There's a warning twitch and a half-second of stillness, and then an explosion of pleasure.

He's not quiet about it.]

[ She keeps her mouth on him, swallowing back everything as he comes. She takes it as a compliment that he can't seem to keep quiet, passing her hand gently over his balls as his climax dies down. It's all right that he hasn't worked her up to orgasm yet—at this point she'd like to turn around and face him properly for that. Which is the move she makes next—crawling off of him, turning around, and laying with her head in the gap next to his shoulder. ]

You want me to sit on your face or lie down on my back to finish?

[ She fiddles with his hair at his temple, then runs her fingers down the side of his face. She doesn't mind if he tells her he wants to rest a bit first. ]

[He leans into her caressing hand, then turns his head and kisses her cheek.

All he really wants to do is rest for a moment, but it seems she wants him to reciprocate. That's all right, if his goal is future repeat occasions.]

Lie down on your back. Or on your side.

Which do you like?

My back, I think.

[ She reciprocates the kiss by kissing him on the lips. Then she rolls off of him onto her back, pulling his arm out from under her head. Concentrating on him the way she had had calmed her drive a bit, so she starts messing with her nipples, working to turn herself back on again. ]

[He stretches his feet, then rolls over onto her and works his way down. She's already playing with her own nipples, so he doesn't stop there, instead kissing lazily down her stomach.

What to do here? The things he'd done a few minutes earlier had been his first attempt at this sort of thing, and they hadn't gotten far enough that he'd been able to tell what specific actions would work best for her. It's going to be harder now -- his mind is a little less sharp than it had been at the time. The best thing to do is probably to get started again.

He separates her lower lips with his fingertips, then lowers his mouth to her clit, alternately sucking and tonguing to see what she responds to better.]

[ She whimpers and writhes a bit, moving a hand from her chest to entangle in his hair. She doesn't realize he's testing her to see what she'll like best—she just thinks he's keeping things from being stale by mixing it up. Something she appreciates, and she moves her hips against his mouth when she feels it's time to encourage him to move his tongue faster. ]

[... Well, that's inconclusive. She likes what he's doing, but he can't discern whether she likes one aspect more than any other. Every signal she's offering is a signal of encouragement.

He tries to intensify everything: more suction, faster action with his tongue. The suction is harder to maintain than the tongue movements, so he defaults to those. The taste is salty and warm, not unpleasant, not too far from the way she smells.

Are all women's bodies always like this? They're supposed to be, but he can't say for sure how well the created body has duplicated a real one. He has nothing to compare it to -- not this intimately.]

[ Now she makes some more noises, letting out a small moan and flexing her hand in his hair to tug it a bit, a way of signaling encouragement. ]

Finger me, too.

[ She bends her head down a little to look at him, to see that he follows her instructions. ]

[He snorts, mainly because he was considering it, and because it's the sole direction she's given him, and because he'd have to stop tonguing her to say anything more.

After a moment's consideration involving exactly which finger to use and where his hand will go, he rests his hand on her inner thigh, alongside his face, and presses his thumb into her. Once it's in about halfway, he makes lazy circles with it.]

[ She misinterprets the reason for the snort and rolls her eyes. ]

Oh, you can handle it.

[ When he brings his hand up she spreads her thighs wider to make room. And of course, there he goes being gentle again. She tugs his hair a bit. ]

Do everything harder.

[He gives her a very direct look -- I'm getting there -- even though he's probably most visible as a pair of eyes and a mop of dark hair and not too much more. The tug at his hair would be a turn-on if he were ready to go again, but with his face already between her thighs, it's more like a small bonus.

She wants it harder, so he does it harder, wrapping his free arm around her leg, sucking and licking at the same time, moving his thumb faster and more roughly, waiting to see if it will be enough for her... and tucking the information away, in the hopes that it will be relevant in the future.]

[ That's a lot more like it. She lets the sensations build with a few whimpers, pushing her hand through his hair a couple of times, letting her head fall back when she's close, moaning. And then she comes, and though it's not nearly as intense as the one earlier, it's still good. ]

[Feeling her come is both gratifying and a relief. What if he really hadn't been able to make it happen? He'd been trying, but from a position of a total lack of expertise, and he's aware that not every body always responds to even the most sophisticated ministrations.

So far, she doesn't seem to think he's clumsy, though. He slides up between her thighs, folds his arms under him, and rests his hands under his chin on top of her stomach, watching her.]

I can't believe I was worried about breaking you. Maybe I should have been more concerned that you'll wear me out.

[His tone indicates that he's joking -- about both things.]

[ She smirks, running her hand through his hair to extricate it, and smoothing it down. ]

Am I testing your limits?

[Possibly, a little, although he's not really sure exactly where they are. Establishing them is more like it, but they haven't really hit the outer edges.

He turns his head to the side, resting it against her abdomen.]

I'm not sure whether I'd call that question optimistic or pessimistic. It might take you a while to find them.

[There's a question implied there: do you want to invest the time?]

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