I roll my tongue around in a slow circle before sliding completely off to reply, “Maybe.”
“Well, maybe I wanna see those eyes while you swallow my load.”
Another lick along his slit is delivered.
“And maybe I wanna see you fucking your hand while I fuck your face.”
Delighted shock threatens to have me swiftly swallowing him again.
“I’ve never had a chick touch herself while she blew me,” he informs on a wolfish grin. “Be my first, Beloved.”
Whether it’s his tone or words or the thought of being his first something that leads to me popping the button to my jean shorts is ultimately unclear; although, I really don’t think it matters.
Creating enough space to slip a hand insidematters.
Spreading my thighs a bit wider to accommodate my fingersmatters.
Loving the way his hazel eyes roll back into his head when I moan around his cock as I lightly brush my clitmatters.
Right now, the only thing I give a shit about is getting us both off.
And the fact his pleasure is amplified bymegetting pleasure tells me it won’t take long.
Not that I’m complaining.
Who doesn’t love a quick and dirty orgasm on vacation?
“You look so fucking perfect like this,” growls J.T., hooded vision latching onto my own. “And even more like this,” he states in tandem with diving his hold back into my hair, “but especiallylike this…” One forceful rock forward sends his dick soaring across my tongue, igniting an anxious whimper; however, it’s the second lunge that’s gets me moaning. Mimicking his thrusts with my hand. Curling my manicured finger inside while my lacy thong aides in securing it in place. “That’s it, beloved.” The scraping of my scalp unleashes more whimpers. “Just like that.”
His encouragement causes new waves of wetness to soak the digit.
Inspires my free grasp to graze my nipple.
Tap it.
“Do that shit again, baby,” spurs the man currently cradling my head, dick continuously carving itself a path down the back of my throat. “Spank it.”
Another light slap is delivered to my stiffening nub.
“Again.”
Once more, I swat at the sensitive spot.
“Again.”
This time a sting is felt.
Appreciated.
Enjoyed.
“You’re doing so good, Beloved,” he gushes after a sharp hiss. “Pinch it.”
My thumb and index instantly squeeze together inspiring my drenched muscles to imitate the intimate action.
“Pull.”
The first tug barely instilling a response pushes me to deliver another.
