But not with this one.I had a different cock in mind. And it would be so sinful.I stroked his cock, loving the way the skin moved over the hard shaft....He throbbed. The tip was pink, flared out like a mushroom, and smooth. A slit leaked a clear liquid, not urine. Curious, I leaned forward and licked the tip. It had a faint, salty aroma.“That's it, whore,” he groaned. “Lick the tip. Get it nice and wet for that slut-mouth.”A hot shudder went through me. My free hand, not occupied with his prick,. My fingers eagerly split the lace and offered myself to the dancing fire. For a moment, I paused, feeling the flames reach out towards me. I parted my lips and allowed the fiery tentacles to enter me. Gentle heat caressed my insides, getting me wetter than I thought I could without direct stimulation. As if able to wrap the flames around my finger, I twisted it, gathered the fire and drove it into me, A welcomed pleasure. But the alcohol and the night were taking me into their arms, lulling me. More

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