“I want to f**k you,” he grates against my femininity. Lapping, lapping.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.” Any way to feel closer to him. My boyfriend. My savior.
“No, you can’t. You can’t.” He seems to be arguing with himself. Then to me, he says, “I’m saving such a fat nut for you, honey. It’s going to look like someone spilled a gallon of milk on this virgin p***y when I finally get into it.”
With that, he closes his lips around this place, this spot he’s been licking that feels so incredible and he gives it a raspberry, suctioning lightly, and my back arches involuntarily, another, more powerful tidal wave of pleasure pulling me down into a whirlpool of blind sensation, my s*x tightening and releasing, releasing wetness, my secret muscles screaming with relief and shock. “Gage,” I whine, voi
