His tongue covered me, hot and wet and with the perfect pressure to make me tremble beneath the touch. “Oh, fuck,” I cried, trying to sit my ass back on the bench so I could spread wider for him. But he kept me up, kept me shaking and holding on for dear life as he worked. My heart was pounding, the reality of the moment stealing my breath. Somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was a bad idea, that I wasn’t being professional, that this would all blow up in my face. I couldn’t find it in me to stop. I never wanted him to stop.
