Sun Mote Copse Eating well, no more microwave dinners and saturated fats

She was a flame, an uncontrollable fire. It bubbled forth from her loins and tore through her stomach, up the back of her throat and spilling from her mouth in heated breath. It burst behind her eyes, white and hot, blinding her. Her legs twitched but kept up, stayed strong, she felt them spreading wider, allowing more of herself to be devoured. She had watched him lean back in and had felt his tongue rock her forward over and over. The warm touch was at times rhythmic and then not. It touched all the right spots, danced away and then returned. 

She was growling still, feeling the fire burning brighter and hotter. It flamed and roared, rising and rising with each touch of his tongue. She found herself bowing, arching her back towards him. Her tail twisted from side to side, twirled atop her back, thrashing. Slowly her growl rose, as did the flame. She began to pant and then to whine, the fire spilling from her belly and into the world. Her first moan surprised her, so loud compared to the gentle and quiet of Ar-Khalba's lapping. She fought to quiet herself, the whining and grunting back again. She opened her eyes and glanced around at him again, watched him work. He was consumed in the act, in her. Watching him made the fire twist in a new and enticing way. She could not control herself as she watched him, as she saw the pleasure on his own face. Her moans grew louder, she felt as if the fire could go no hotter, than it would explode from her and she would be consumed from the outside. 

She leaned back into him further, grunting and moaning, commanding and begging. "Yes, yes, more. There. Molech....Ar-Khalba...." Her voice was breathy, high, full of her longing.