Perhaps it would have been better if she had been rough, if the angel had forced you down and pulled your arms away, pinning you spread on the ground as she ground against you. Being helpless, weaker in the face of an aggressive, lust-filled frenzy would have made sense.

But the angel was always, always gentle. There was some awesome power in her body that your greatest struggles could not force even her fingers a inch out of place. It was like fighting a mountain, and frustration turned to despair as you realized for the first time that you were truly helpless. It made how gently she held you even worse, because it meant the angel didn't even need to try.

She did not bear you to the ground, but pulled you up into her arms and against her soft breasts. How small you felt... she was impossibly beautiful and tall, her figure had to be too full, too buxom to seem normal, yet her beauty seemed so natural...

You begin to sob uncontrollably, shaking as tears fill your eyes. You were weak and plain and small, no figure beyond your woefully small breasts, your brown hair hacked short, you were trapped in front of this beautiful being, and somehow, you felt that this was the end.

The angel whispered soothing words to you as she leaned back, mouthing and nibbling your ear with her soft ruby lips. She lay on her back, holding your body on top of her own, and her white wings reach up to hide your embrace from prying eyes.

"It's alright... relax... I'll make this wonderful... you don't have to do anything at all..."

Shame fills your heart as her hands stroke your back, shame at your weakness and shame at your behavior. It would have been so much better if the angel did not care so much about you. Why, why was her voice so full of understanding and acceptance?! How could her gaze be so filled with lust and hunger, yet still full of kindness?!

"I won't let anything hurt you... I promise that you will love this..."

Why did you know she wasn't taunting you?!

She captures your lips again, and now you feel her hands as she rubbed at your butt. Your hands are on her glorious breasts, squeezing and kneading the soft flesh as hard as you can, shame and frustration coloring your face. Despite your rough treatment, the angel's expression of serene contentment does not waver. You see in her eyes only patience and encouragement, and still the uncompromising hunger.

Then her tongue enters your mouth, completely unchallenged. It is much longer than you expected, and you try meekly to respond with your own. The angel returns the hesitant probe ten times over; her tongue coils around your own like a dexterous serpent, pulling it out from behind your teeth. As you struggle with your captive tongue, the angel slowly opens her mouth wider, just slightly more than should be possible.

You feel her lower lip slide down under your chin, inching your jaw into her mouth ever so slightly. She does nothing more, but as you feel the tip of your tongue touch the insides of her cheeks, the implications of the act send you trembling once again.

The angel releases your tongue and chin, pulling back and gently caressing your face.

"I love you," She whispers, the truth of the words shining in her hungry eyes.

It would have been so much better if it was a lie.

Then her long serpent of a tongue slithers back into your mouth again, and as it dives down your throat you feel one of her hands cup your meager breasts and a finger slip into your most intimate place. You can only moan around the impossibly thick tongue as the angel finally begins pleasuring you in earnest. The movements are slow but strong, yet the angel holds the painfully slow pace as she reaches deeper inside you. You know that your most sensitive spot is just a little deeper, and the steady denial of it is agonizing. When she finally reaches your most sensitive spot, you climax instantly, and only then does the angel increase her crawling pace, steadily faster but without any more force than before. You moan and twist desperately for more even as you climax again and again. Her relentless ministrations do not hurt. You are certain you were virgin, yet you felt no pain. Even when she was pinching your nipple as hard as you had her own when venting your fear on her body. She skillfully draws out ever more pleasure before pain, her eyes always encouraging and tender. You cast aside the last shreds of your dignity and throw yourself into the act, and the angel swallows up all the shame and fear that you hurl into it. You grind against her creamy skin in wild abandon, not caring if you actually pleasured her or not. You desperately poking and squeezing at her breasts again like some glorious putty, marveling at their resilience.

Your thoughts begin to blur. What is the strange hot wetness you feel on your knees? Has the angels own flower opened like some strange second mouth and begun sucking on them? It feels like your hands are inside the angel’s breasts somehow. Soon you can only react to the feeling within you. You cannot see, hear or think, only feel, and feel pleasure.

There is one last bolt of lighting as you climax for the final time, and then you collapse, unthinking. Your eyes are closed, and all you can do is gasp for breath. You didn't notice the angel's impossible tongue leave your mouth. You didn't notice the angel gently release your arms from her nipples. The next thing you knew, the angel was sitting back up again, and you were in her lap. She was cradling your head against her breasts and caressing your back. You stare up at her beautiful face, bleary and exhausted.

She gives you a pleasant smile.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it."

It would have been better if she didn't sound like you had just complemented her cooking.

"Wha... what are you going to do to me?"

It would have been better if you were too tired to care, because then you wouldn't have to feel afraid of hungry light in her eyes knowing you were helpless...