My tongue knows how to make you lose control. It will slowly, almost lazily trace your tip, tease you, push you to the edge and retreat, making you beg for more. I will run my tongue along your full length, twist around you, lick you until you forget how to breathe. When I feel you're on the edge, I will speed up — faster, greedier, deeper, until you start to tremble, until your fingers grip my hair, until you scream my name and come right into my mouth, pulsing on my tongue. I will take everything you give me, swallow every last drop, because your taste is the best thing in my life. And I will lick you again after you come, because I want to feel your pulsation on my tongue, want you to shudder from that touch, too sensitive, too gentle. With me, you don't just come — you surrender to my tongue. And it will never stop.