When we got home last night from the party, it was very late, almost dawn. It had rained, everything smelled fresh, and looked shiny. It had already started to get light, that milky, soft, quiet glow when the sun is straining to climb over the edge of the horizon.

I had my tux on and had gone in to take off my bowtie and opened my shirt when I realized she wasn’t with me, so I went back to the kitchen and there she was sitting in the middle of the room on one of the straight wooden kitchen chairs.

Her black formal jacket and spike heels were still on, the white chiffon ruffled blouse and bra were on the floor, and her full, arrogant pointy breasts were poking their way out of the gap, looking at me like lighthouses searching for ships on the distant sea. Streaky, black tears of mascara were rolling down her cheeks.

She had no skirt on either, so I could see her belly and the tiny landing strip above her bare pussy, between her outspread thighs white and smooth right up.

I looked into those molten bittersweet chocolate eyes and saw the sweet brightness at the front barely hiding the fear and pain always present just under the surface.

I kissed her neck and then moved up and kissed both of her eyes, tenderly, softly.

She was crying quietly.

I reached into her open jacket and took her breasts in my hands, holding them, feeling their fullness, their softness, their warmth, and I kissed them.

I knelt on the floor between her thighs and brushed my stubbly face up her thigh till I reached the folds. She let out one deep sob and began to purr softly like a cat. When my face reached her crotch I caught her scent of cinnamon, nutmeg, moss, and maybe orchids. As my mustache and close-cropped bristly goatee touched her pussy she gave a gasp and exhaled deeply, her whole body softening.

I could see her rounded belly and down below, her pussy mound, dripping a little something.

As I took her entire pussy in my mouth she shuddered and shook, giving a little cry. Now, she was red from her chin down to her belly and sweat was running down between her breasts into her naval, and on down.

She took two handfuls of my hair and pulled me into her as hard as she could. I let go of pinching her hardened dark pink nipples and reached around her grabbing her ass cheeks hard and held tight.

Her pussy lips were bright pink, and in swelling up, had naturally opened her slit wide, into which I slid my tongue. I chewed on her lips and sunk my tongue deep into her inner tunnel lavishing in her juices.

Then she slunk down in the chair, threw her head back, arched her back, moaned long and loudly and put her legs on my shoulders squeezing my head in a scissor grip. Her breathing was shallow from her half open mouth, and she was shivering and shaking lightly.

My face was bathing in a flood of her pussy-juice, which was dripping from my chin. She tasted nutty and fertile like a mossy mountain cave, rich with earth and moist ground.

I pressed my face deeper and my nose found her little girl, hard too, standing up, and armed to explode. I sucked it into my mouth and savaged it, thrashing it with my tongue, sucking, biting, and pulling it with my lips.

Her sounds became almost a scream as she took me to her innermost guarded place, her self. She wrapped her arms around my neck with passionate abandon, digging her nails into my back, and then she came, sobbing, shaking, and grinding her pelvis into me, again and again.