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Author's Chapter Notes:


“Those pieces of fruit are still there. Oh well, time for more food.”

He watched her eating, while he enjoyed swimming around in the punch bowl. Then she was ready to fill up her cup again.

He swam towards the ladle, and into it, as she submerged most of it.

“I have an idea,” he said, “Scoop me up into the cup too.”

“Alright,” she said, with a look of curiosity.

Once she had ladled him into the cup, he stood up, so that his head and the top of his neck were not covered. The pieces of fruit were floating on top of the punch beside him.

“Could you hold the cup close to your mouth?” he asked.

“Will this do?” she asked.

“Yes, I think so. I’ve solved your problem,” he said, “Can you open your mouth now?”

She did so, and he lifted a piece of pineapple in his hand and reached out of the cup and across Moynie’s lower lip and placed it into her mouth. He managed to slide his hand across the top of her tongue as he withdrew it, which was as close as he’d gotten to touching her tongue at last.

He watched her swallow it.

“Very enterprising,” she said, “And very thoughtful of you too.”

He did the same exercise with the remaining pieces of accumulated fruit.

“I’ll sit back in the cup, as you tilt it to drink the rest,” he said, I can put my arm in the handle to hold onto, since it’s a thick plastic cup with a hollow handle. That way I won’t fall into your mouth.”

“Alright. Hold on tight then,” she said, and tilted the cup slowly forward, as he sat back and watched the liquid flowing past him and into her enormous open mouth.

He watched her tongue swish from side to side as she licked her lips afterwards. It was so near, yet so far from any opportunity to touch it.

When she’d finished, she let him crawl out onto her other hand.

“That was very considerate of you, Denny. And now my punch has made you all sticky, after you’ve helped me enjoy it all the more.”

Then Denny saw his opportunity.

“Maybe you could clean me up right here, if you were to lick the punch juice from my face.”

“It may not do any good, since I already have a lot of it on my tongue, but I’ll try,” she said.

Then came the moment for which he’d staged the fall into her punch bowl.

Her tongue came right out of her mouth and slid over him, pressing and sliding against his face, making him far more ecstatic than he’d ever been before.

She had been right though, he reflected a few minutes later, although not for the reasons that she had been thinking of. The presence of the punch on both her tongue and himself had taken a lot away from the feeling he had hoped to attain from being licked by her tongue with no intervening liquid present. If only he could find a way to prompt her to do that, without sounding like a juvenile child with an unexplained urge.

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