"Doesn't Gregory feel your tits like this, or any other way?" Breathing hard, panting, keening, heads down, working, so close, oh so, so close. "He he said that I should call and tell you" Up and down went Lisa's stroking fingers. Up and down went her bobbing head. Tom lost all power in his upper body, and fell backwards on the bed, his left shoulder blade crashing on top of his autographed Boris Karloff photo. He didn't care. Lisa was sucking his brain out through a very tiny slit, and all the world was wonderful. All he could do was reach weakly down with one hand and try to clutch a handful of her hair. He did, but his grip was weak indeed. Her hair bobbed lightly against his outstretched fingers, their tips never touching her scalp.
