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yearning
yearning
How could I ever resist whimpering needily when they ease off, hoping for the prospect of another round of lurid attention?
How could I ever resist whimpering needily when they ease off, hoping for the prospect of another round of lurid attention?
So easy for them to apply that targeted pressure to somewhere usually only brushed by the edge of a shaft or a throbbing knot…
It doesn’t take them long to turn me into a panting, moaning mess of a vixen—
So easy for them to apply that targeted pressure to somewhere usually only brushed by the edge of a shaft or a throbbing knot…
It doesn’t take them long to turn me into a panting, moaning mess of a vixen—
Lying me on my back against their chest, giving me a couple of rubs and scritches, then reaching lower. Working their middle and ring finger into my snatch softly, waiting for the quiet whine when they reach just the right spot—pressure against the front to help—
Lying me on my back against their chest, giving me a couple of rubs and scritches, then reaching lower. Working their middle and ring finger into my snatch softly, waiting for the quiet whine when they reach just the right spot—pressure against the front to help—