Keeping her eyes trained on yours, she turns her head to flick her tongue along the crease of your thigh, pausing to blow a soft warm breath over your...dripping, swollen, aching folds.You grip a handful of her hair and tug, none too gently. “Now,” you demand and she finally, slowly, obliges. Her tongue flicks along your lips and you feel the heat pooling in the pit of your stomach, the clenching of your muscles. “Now,” you repeat, hands gripping her head, pressing her mouth against the ache that. The house had a sagging wraparound porch, and on it was a woman dressed in a green tunic and leggings, leaning her chair back on two legs until it rested against the wall. Her face hung slack, and delicate snores escaped her mouth. Her long strawberry blond hair hung in heavy braid over one shoulder, with wisps escaping here and there. By her side, on the floor of the porch, also sleeping, curled up like a dog, was a naked man with dark curly hair and pinkish skin mottled by cuts and. More

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