His voice, initially thick, hoarse and grainy with pent-up desire, transformed itself in that glorious moment of release as I murmured in dirty detail just how my newly well-fucked cunt full of another man’s seed would forcefully take him, would insist on being cleaned by his lips and tongue, would slide itself to the hilt onto his raging cock, would envelop him in soft, velvety wetness, would urgently ride the piece that completed my puzzle, would milk right out of him the come that truly belonged inside me.
2 comments:
Curious, isn't it, how being the second (or third, or fourth) in line isn't always a turn-off for some guys? To each his own, they do say. Then again, if you are owned that thoroughly then being the next in line means only that he is the LAST in line.
-- PB
I think you've hit the nail on the proverbial, PB! To be the last, the final one, the truly one and only...
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