The mists that swirl within the highlands of Scotland give a different feeling to each person who sees them. Some find them relaxing and calming, as well as a tie to the past because the mists have been in these valleys longer than man can remember. To some, they were frightening, a reminder of ghosts and demons and those things that go bump in the night. To Breadon, they were what he was now made of; the curse of a witch had transferred him into Moisture until he performed a selfless deed. But since he could only speak, or form a hand, most of the time, he just scared people and floated with the wind and rain, waiting for his chance, waiting centuries for Bethlyn.
His voice was like a violin, taking her into a dream word. She wanted to do whatever that deep warm utterance wished of her. Still tightly clutching the rolled up cloth in both hands, she spread her trembling thighs, and then she lost her breath entirely and didn’t care that she wasn’t taking in air as a mouth closed over her most private part and a tongue touched that swollen nub. Instantly she rolled over some type of high mountain as all the muscles in her body pulled and the veins pushed blood. She saw nothing but fireworks behind her closed eyes as her body shuddered and everything in her just let go into a void.
It was the most amazing feeling she had ever experienced, and it went on and on as he sucked on that nub, drawing into his mouth and twisting it with his tongue. Finally, he let go, and she collapsed against the rough cloths on the table and laughed softly as she drew needed air into her lungs.
Bethlyn finally had to say something, “Oh my God, I am not sure what that was, but it was amazing.”
She heard the deep chuckle of the man. “Gods, little one, that is just the start, I have more for you, let me continue.”
She was almost frightened for him to continue. That last experience had been so explosive and had left her weak, but she felt his tongue begin to stroke her all along her slit from that amazing nub back to the tight pucker of her anus. Oh yes, this was bringing peaks of impulses that she didn’t know existed in the body. She even felt tingles in her fingers that were wrapped around the cloth, and down to her toes that she had drawn downward against her feet.
She heard a soft sound and realized it was a whimper from her own throat, and then she felt the tightening of all the muscles in her stomach and thighs and in the center of her womanhood as he continued to move that wicked tongue. She knew she was going to slide over that mountain again, and this time as he moved up to the nub at last, she let out a scream as she slid down like an avalanche, faster and harder than before.
She lay breathing heavily, basking in the feeling that was left in her body from the honey that was moving through her veins instead of blood. She smiled and hesitated and wondered where he was.
“Breandon?” She was amazed that her voice was so weak.
“I am here, sweet one. I am enjoying the smell and the taste of you. But I know what this is doing to your body, and I want you to just relax for a little while and listen to the rain and take pleasure in the feelings that you have experienced.”
She could only agree with him as she felt she was too weak to move and didn’t want to do anything but lie there and bask in the warmth of what he had brought from her inner self.