The sight of her spread out for him made Pestilence light headed with lust, but he made no move to enter her. Standing, he got fully divested of his clothes, then picked her up. She was as light as a feather in his arms. Her eyes were questioning, but he couldn't speak. He carried her down the hall, down to the little bedroom. He hardly ever went in there, usually just falling asleep on the couch after watching TV, but he wasn't going to do this on the couch. For whatever reason, Angela had decided he was worthy of her first time. He sure as hell was going to make it the best he could.

He layed her gently on the bed, fingers fumbling with the last remnants of her clothes, finally showing the perfection of her body. She was so delicate, pale as a lily, petite. He would have to be careful with her. He felt that if he didn't watch himself, he might break her. With care, he placed his hands on her knees and spread her thighs. Here, too, she was small. He traced light kisses down the insides of her legs, finally ending and the apex of her thighs, lightly tonguing her delicate flesh.