We held hands a moment, eyes fixed upon one another, and an understanding past between us. It was time. I led her to bed, near the mirror she insisted on using. She said she always loved how I nibbled her toes, and that's why they should be the first to go. We held each other for some time, then I lifted her up to rest on my shoulders as I prepared my jaw. Her feet dangled before my eyes, succulent and tender. I can't explain the smell as she dragged them over my muzzle, or the taste as she teased my tongue. I can't put it into words except to say it made everything right with the world. The warm taste of comfort food, the thrill of the exotic, the dark earthy aroma of a forest floor and the sweetness of ripe fruit. And knowing she was finally mine.

We went slowly, gently, lovingly. I could see her blushing and she wrangled with her hair, and her thrill was infectious. I knew from her eyes that this experience meant the world to her, slipping down inside of the person who was to be, for this night at least, her predator. My tongue curled up and around her inner thighs, and she let out the most adorable squeak of delight. We both had underestimated the difficult fight against gravity in this position, and next time I'll definitely as to this laying down. Still, we managed, her shifting her feet around for purchase on my lap, and myself supporting her leg with a hand. As my lips began to wrap around her bust, I took a moment to stare long and hard into the mirror, knowing I wanted to remember this moment well. Soon I would take another swallow. I felt so eager to have my jaws around her neck, of hearing her happy noises as I gulped her head and ears, or the taste of her fingers as they wriggled over my lazy tongue, the last bit of her to go. Most of all, I looked forward to a long relaxing rest, the feeling of another's heartbeat alongside my own. This all would come soon enough, but I put those thoughts aside, preferring to fully experience this tender moment.

Mark and Dahlia are mine.
Art by myself.

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