After what feels like hours of cupping and kneading her breasts, alternating laving each tip, his hand skims down to the waistband of her knickers. He doesn’t try to peel them off. Instead, he rubs her in circles over the material. That feels way better than anything he was doing to her breasts and she writhes, moving her hips restlessly into his touch, looking for more. It takes a while for the pleasure to crest but he seems tireless in its pursuit; his fingers never let up as they grind into her clit, varying pressure and speed, until at last she falls over the edge with a moan. A rush of wetness slickens her thighs.  