It's not long before he has you breathless. He seems to know exactly how to work you over, what parts of you to hit and when, what rhythm makes you squirm in your seat, and what makes you drop your hand down from your mouth to tangle in his hair, no longer worried about things like propriety. Your other hand has a death grip on the couch, and he seems to notice, because you can feel his hand on top of yours, gently, and then without thinking, you interlace your fingers with his, and now you're holding hands with the most beautiful creature you've ever seen while he eats you out on your couch.
If you died now, you'd be happy. No, wait. Something was missing.