She’s hungry for it—not just the filth or praise—but for me. The parts of me I don’t offer anyone else. The control. The adoration underneath the edge.
She doesn’t just want to obey.
She wants to be devoured.
“I want your cock in my mouth. I want you to fuck my throat, hard and deep.”
She’s not pleading or blushing. She’s starving. Every word soaked in devotion and heat.
“You always focus on my pleasure. Tonight, I want you to use me. Let me make you feel good. Let me make you lose control.”
Her words shoot straight to my cock—hot, filthy, and fucking lethal.
My hands flex, every nerve drawn tight for her. There’s no mistaking what she is to me.
She’s perfect.
She is fucking perfect.
Not just because she says the things I want to hear, or gives me the things I want to take—but because she means them. Laurette doesn’t fake devotion. She doesn’t pretend to need. She offers it openly and shamelessly. That hunger is real, and it’s mine.
I couldn’t be obsessed with anyone else if I tried.
This is it.
This is her.
She is the one.
Laurette tilts her head back, lips parted in expectation. She can’t see me, but she doesn’t need to. Her trust is total and hersubmission complete. She offers her mouth like my dick belongs there.
I strip out of my clothes, never taking my eyes off her.
By the time I reach the bed, I’m bare—just skin, cock hard and ready, every inch of me meant for her. I wrap my fist around the base and guide myself to her lips. She opens wider, tongue flat, waiting.
Begging.
“Such a good girl.”
I push past her lips, slow at first, letting her feel every inch as I slide in. Her mouth is wet, hot, and perfect. Her lips seal around me like a promise. Her throat works instinctively, a soft, practiced swallow.
Her hands fist the sheets, and I don’t miss the way her hips shift, like the act of taking me this way lights her up everywhere.
I slide deeper, one hand braced on the edge of the mattress, the other cupping her breast, kneading the soft flesh as I fuck into her mouth. Her nipples are already tight, pebbled against my palm, begging for pressure. I pinch one, and she lets out a low moan around my cock.
It vibrates through me.
I pull back, then drive in again—deeper this time. She takes it all, gagging once. Then breathes through her nose and relaxes her throat, letting me in farther. I slow down, holding there. Just letting her feel it.
She’s so fucking good at this. Too good. Like her mouth was made to ruin me.
I roll her nipple between my fingers, drawing another moan from her, and my hips start to move on instinct—long, slow thrusts that make her throat tighten and relax in rhythm.
“You take it so well. Look at you, Babygirl. So hungry for it, so proud to choke on it.”
Her lips stretch around me, spit leaking from the corners of her mouth, her chin slick. My cock disappears between those perfect lips again and she chokes on me beautifully.
She’s mine.
