Enter the mind of Rebecca, a Bad Girl who knows what she wants. She’s set her sights on a Good Boy and what he thinks of as an old fashioned, innocent date very well may be his claiming. She’ll test him, and if he passes, she’ll take him!
For fans of romance and femdom, who like it when their heroes blush and their heroines are bold but real.
Consider this an experiment in a new format. Short, tangy and just a little sweet, but with enough bite to get your attention. Interested?
She rolled back, butt towards her heels, arms unbending so her head is low and her hair pooled on the floor. She looked back over her shoulder, at the anonymous effect of the leather mask on his face, and the line of the lead pulling taut from his collar.
He was hard for her, want etched across his body, her posing holding him enthralled, tighter than the lead. She’d stripped him, earlier, teasing him about his eagerness to rut, telling him he was like a dog that had scented a bitch.
“And I am just the Bitch to breed you, aren’t I?”
That was a loaded word. Bitch for her: harsh high and unfeeling. His occasional wearing of the label: lowly, desperate and needy. This time she taunted him at how much he wanted to fuck, told him he was little more than an animal even as she jerked his cock.
Words tugged at him as she squirmed against him and crooned in his ear to admit it and say it out loud, that he was her dog, nothing but an animal, brainless, desperate, and her cunt convulsed as she pressed her thighs together.
She made a show of presenting the mask to him so he could see the black snout and pointed ears, a shape she thought was more doberman than anything else. She liked the fit, the way he looked at her through its eyes, hungry, humiliated and yet wanting more.
She made him pant for her. No barking, she didn’t like the abrupt sounds, but growls instead of groans while she buckled the collar and led him, from the chair, across the room.
He saw her shed her clothes, what little she had been wearing when they started playing and the revelation of high, small pointed breasts, and a heavy roundness to her ass that tapered to the tight pinch of her waist.
Tugs to the leash pulled him closer before she settled into position, dropping to her knees with grace, and then all fours with her elbows bent. When she caught his eye the pose extended…
…And he had a direct view of the split of her body, shameless in her power. She giggled, “Caught my scent, did you?”
Her cunt was a wet dark slash. Brown lips around dark pink, glossy. The leash tug told him what to do next and the mask let him tilt his head to press his real mouth to her. It was more nuzzle than lick, at first, getting himself marked with her.
She smelled of musk and tasted of lemon and salt, but soon this treat was pulled away from him and his leash was yanked.
He knew his part and her intent, hands to her sides, cock pressing, letting her own back writhe and the slick home it to hilt. Hot, just the space for him and not more.
His fingers dug into the softness of her hips and her command encouraged, “Fucking rail me.”
And she used him, devouring that energy as he drove into her.
She didn’t count the thrusts, making cries into the floor, welcoming triumph. “Harder!”
Her taste was still in his mouth and his sweat starting to bead. Her hand hand slid to reach back and tweak her clit.
“I’m going to c..” He tried to warn. Wild pounding thrusts gave him little leeway, her clear enjoyment even less
“Dogs don’t talk!” She grunted. And then her attention was elsewhere as he felt the clench and squeeze of her coming. Something about the spasm of muscle pushed him out and her forwards, but then he came in a single spurt he couldn’t stop, and a second pulse, a white line across her back and another dripped from him and across her sprawled thigh below him.
From the floor, in a c curl, with him collapsed nearby, she took a breath and sighed out, “Good boy.”
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She was pivoted to take a picture of the large display of autumnal gourds in the giant bin in front of the grocery store and he, under the guise of a particularly passionate hug, pressed himself closer. There was always a way men changed their posture when they did that, imperceptible if you looked, but with a tilted tension that made you aware of their body line and the pull of their groin. And a scent that had no scent, that, in only a little bit of shared warmth, drew out the tight yet melting sensation of her own arousal.
Only this time there was the hard little nub of plastic poking, nudging up against her too.
“Aww, you are pretty desperate, aren’t you?” She cooed, letting her hand caress the side of her hip, even as a slight shift of her own pose made the contact with his caged cock deliberate. “What day is it?”
“It’s October 9th, Mistress.” He swallowed.
“How many days until the end of the month?”
There was a pause of mental math. “22, not counting today, Mistress.”
Her finger teased the ribbon peeking out of the collar of her sweater. She could feel the key, warmed against her skin, slide a little. “That’s a lot of time. What has you so het up?”
“I want you, Mistress.” There was both a smallness of vulnerability in the confession, but also a matter of hopefulness, as if this longing was a gift in itself. “The cage hurts. I need to edge.”
“Aww… Well, we still have to finish grocery shopping.”
He pulled away, husbanding his willpower. She smirked, aware that he was still reacting to the way she had chosen to dress on the expedition. True, she was draped in a cozy sweater, but below it, the dull shine of leather, skin tight, clinging, skirt hugging her to mid thigh, where it met a band of bare skin before her stocking tops resumed a more autumnal practicality.
She thought for a moment, then began to pull the key over her head, handing it over. “I’ll tell you what. The grocery store has a single stall public unisex washroom by the deli. It’s pretty private. Go there and use your phone to film yourself edging, then cage back up, all on camera. You have until I am done shopping to meet me by the cash.”
He nodded took the key, and giving her one last lingering look, dashed off to complete the task, while she found and wrangled a cart.
The fresh smell of the bakery and the produce hit her nose and she began to shop. A picture hit her phone, him kneeling on tile, having placed down a couple of pieces of paper towel under his knees. She grinned. His eyes were very big, and his face flushed and embarrassed.
She let the aroused heat she felt in response suffuse her for a moment, before giggling and going back to selecting apples.
As she did the sweep of the dairy section, she glanced back at the Deli and smirked again. Not done yet. No time.
She went the rest of her zig-zag serpentine. Crackers; tea; canned goods; nutmeg; backtrack and get chicken stock; flour, nutmeg, pasta, hamburger and a lamb, sale; browsed the greeting cards; impulse bought a bulk pack of batteries; and rounded through frozen foods with peas, perogies and a pint of vanilla ice cream.
The line up wasn’t too bad, but all the queues were pretty much the same. She took one at random and let herself be carried by people momentum. He wasn’t back yet.
She shook her head. The line went at its own pace, items on the belt, scanned, points card, paid. Just before that process she texted him. “I’m leaving without you.”
She did not, in fact, do so, but lingered past the door with the cart, enjoying the string of panicked texts, before he appeared, wild eyed and spattered down with water.
“I couldn’t get it back on!” He made a gesture at his groin, helplessly. “It wouldn’t go down enough to force it.”
She chuckled. “Well, I can think of a lot of ways to punish you when we get home.”
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The gag cinched into the corners of his mouth, doing more to render him muffled than to completely silence the sounds of the whimpers he was making. A slick of lube on her palm, viscous and clinging, made each stroke of her hand glide easy on his cock.
“That’s right, baby. You love being this helpless, don’t you?”
He was completely naked, back bent so he could hold onto his own ankles, a display arch that was marred by shivers and gasps. She could read the desperation in his body: in the way his hips tried to rise to meet her grip; in the way his belly flexed and contracted; his shoulders shifted; and the tightening of the way he struggled to keep himself in the pose.
She knew he wanted to be on display for her, wanted to keep his muscles as flexed and hard as his cock. That was a little vanity of service, an awareness that she found him attractive. She gave the root of his cock a harder squeeze, letting the upwards glide pull her fingers over the flare of the head.
She saw the shine of the wetness at the corner of his mouth where the gagged robbed him of the ability to hold in his drool, and just where his chest met his belly, a thumb print sized drip. Meanwhile, the slit at the tip of his cock offered up a line of pre-cum like the strand of a cobweb.
“You are always such a clean, tidy boy, but, only edged three times and look at you! Losing all control. Filthy!”
She let her thumb brush over that ooze of precum, enjoying the texture and noting the contrast. Her own panties were stained with her desire, seeping through the cotton. There was a temptation to mount him, hilting his desperately hard cock inside her, but she kept her restraint, making him endure.
A few more fast pumps of her hand around his cock and he started looking panicked, building and building. She reminded him not to cum, even as she teased him closer and closer. As his balls began to pull into his body to loose a spurt of cum she smirked, pulling her hand away with a flourish.
“Not yet! You don’t have permission.”
His eyed met hers, pleasing with his eyes, making wet squeaks.
“Dominant? No baby, we both know you can’t satisfy me that way. Your cock is just so little and soft, like that.”
“I am not being mean, baby. I am laughing because you think I want a rough, tough alpha man, and all you can provide is a small penis on a blushing little boy.”
“I just can’t take you seriously in charge. Your body doesn’t lie, baby. You can strut and posture and smack my ass, but the only thing that actually makes you stir is my pleasure. Otherwise, it’s all big commanding words with a wee little shy dick.”
“Isn’t it funny the more bossy you try to be the easier I can slip the cage onto your cock? It’s only after to feel that little lock click you start getting big.”
“And then your cock is just straining to be free. You know you weren’t meant to have control. Your body knows. Think about it! Imagine how unsatisfied I would be if you tried to fuck me with that squishy little thing! It’s the size of my thumb and nowhere near as firm.”
“See how even my voice gets you going? See how you can feel the more I tease and rub your face in it the harder you get? You could tie me up, smack me around and do those alpha growls and all you would be is a little boy playing pretend. As sexless and unable to fuck me as a eunuch!”
“Why waste both our time when you can give in. Let your true, submissive self bring you to your knees and feel your pants get tight as you swell. Feel my slap sting your face and get thick. Feel my hands roughly strip you and get all pent up.”
“Drop the act, baby. Call you Master? That’s the funniest thing ever. You weren’t made to be in charge, you were made to struggle to be a good boy with your cock so hard it hurts and the whole length so swollen it’s curving up back towards your belly on its own.”
“You see my pretty tits, you don’t want to tie them up, you want to press your face there and worship and feel me stroke your hair and call you a good boy.”
“And my slick, pink cunt? Haha to think you imagined you could ravage me with your dick so small and soft? Put your collar back on, baby. The only way you can fill me up is with my voice in your ear reminding you that you are property.”
“It’s ok baby, sometimes you get confused and forget your place. But isn’t it better to give in, to beg for me to pump and stroke you, to tease and edge you?”
“I thought so, the minute I said that your hand strayed between your legs. You wanted to touch. It’s okay baby, show me what really gets you hard.”
“Being reminded you are property makes you thick. Being told who you belong to is the only way you get long for me. And look at that, I give you permission to jerk for me and you are already having more fun than if you tried to take what you think you wanted.”
“Say it, baby. Say who you belong to. Who owns your cock. Admit that trying to be in charge makes you soft and tiny and useless.”
“There now, isn’t that better? Your cock is do hard I can see you are already drooling precum. Dripping for me. Now, ask me nicely to fuck me and serve me with your thick submissive cock, and maybe I will consider letting you empty some of that pent up cum.”
“Yeah, give in and it makes you a man for me. Now show me what you can do with your cock, now I have reminded you who owns you.”
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“Don’t move except when I move you, don’t speak.” She held a finger to his lips, looked into his eyes.
They were sitting on the edge of her bed, double sized, blankets tucked and made, just enough room for two. She smiled, a little unsure at first of her idea, but with anticipation of getting what she wanted.
He didn’t nod, just immediately complied, putting away words and letting himself take a blank affect when she started to strip him. She admired his unresistant weight in her hands, twisting and pulling, shirt off, pants off with a bit of rolling and pulling, socks, boxers. He neither helped nor hindered, letting her decide where this was going.
When they were done, and she was clothed and he was naked, she fussed about a bit, deciding to tie a thick blue ribbon about his neck, reminiscenct of kittens and puppies, gentler than a collar and pleasant against the cream of his skin and the blond shine of his hair. Things to play with and cuddle, but helpless things, to be trained.
When she kissed him, he almost kissed back, but caught his own twitch of the lips. Instead her tongue darted out in a lick against his and her fingers stroked along his leg, keeping him seated while she explored along his jaw and nipped his ear. Still, he held fast.
She remembered her awakenings, slow, stories, the Steadfast Tin Soldier, dedicated to death to his Ballerina, the Ken dolls that found their way into the old budgie cage she was let to play with when she visited her grandmother. She imagined puppets and marionettes and porcelain mask faces.
And then she took both shoulders and pushed him onto his back, swinging her leg over. Her fingers dug in and her confidence in control grew, a lightness and a sense of connection deeper than she ever found in conversation. Hers. Hers. All hers.
The very subtle reaction to her weight straddling him, and the effort to keep his face composed, at her order. Nonetheless there were all the hall marks of arousal in the warming of his skin and the slight tautness in the line of his throat, surely and out of his control as a clockwork wind up. She grinned with full teeth and ground against him.
She knew that maneuver often drew protest from the pushing, but this time he was stoic and inscrutable, as she ground her crotch to him, ending up pressed to his thigh as her cunt told her that it had taken a hint from the images in her mind and the intimacy of the moment.
She put her hand on his cock, pulling and tugging what was half hard into the shape she wanted to use, getting her tights and panties off, but not bothering to get the rest of the way undressed. Her other hand cupped her own breast, thinking more of her pleasure than his. If he was finding something erotic from the view, she didn’t particularly care, finding her fantasy in seeing him purely as her fuck doll.
She nudged and eased him inside her, enjoying that he still obeyed, not moving, although she knew taking at her pace was maddening to him and all to often, in their coupling, he set the rhythms to satisfy the hunger of his cock. Now, engulfing him to the root, she tilted her hips just so and rode him like a dildo.
“Ah. Fuck!” the utterance wasn’t for his benefit, the sex much quieter when is was an act of personal gratification. As she did with her toys, she pressed at her clit until the orgasm she wanted was on the cusp of happening and then let the unconsciousness release happen, groan from her throat and gush.
She drenched him, and he didn’t move a muscle. instead she waited a few moments to let the wild pounding in her chest recede and roll-dismounted to the bed next to him. A heavy sigh escaped her chest on impact. “Ohhhfff.”
He was still unmoving. She smiled, not cuddling him in the heat of afterglow, but letting the back of her hand stroke over his chest. “Good boy.”
“It’s too hot to fuck.” She was clad only in panties, sprawled so they just touched, arm to arm and her ankle layered over his. In her perception is body was radiating heat, and she’d broken off their kissing to escape it.
His boxers were covering about 3/4 of an erection, enough to keep her interested, predatory and playful, while the cuffs wrapped around his wrists and ankles held him, immobilized and spread, on display. She had planned it out differently, tease herself and him until he was full-hard, then ride him, but three minutes of making out had put an end to that. Summer was getting in her way.
He looked disappointed, but not like he disagreed with her logic. “Ok, Miss…”
“Hmmm.” Although the fun of denial had its merits, it wasn’t what she wanted this time. She screwed up her face, setting herself to a new course of action. “Do exactly what I say, and don’t move.”
She stooped over him, pulling the velcro loose from his right wrist, safety first. “Stay.”
She left the room knowing he was safe, getting herself a tall glass of ice water, adding a straw with a sense of whimsy. As her demand, when she returned, he was still lying in place, band of the cuff still neat under his wrist. She smirked, refastening him. “Good boy.”
A moment later an the toy box was dragged from beneath the bed. “I was thinking I was going to make you into my fuck toy, but instead I think I’ll fuck you with some toys instead.”
There was what she needed, and more she didn’t inside. The cuffs and straps always lived on the bed for when she wanted him bound, but the rest was a buffet she lingered over, picking just the right accessories: the lube in its plain packaging, the plug, tapering from blunt point to fat flare and then its skinny neck and second wide ring, all silicone, and the canister with its supple sleeve lining the barrel. There really wasn’t a good name for it. Pocket pussy, onnacup, fliphole. Flesh Light. This one was an offbrand, bought at a sex shop, plain white plastic outside, pale beige inside.
When she’d picked it out, she’d tested it with her finger, penetrating it, and imagining what it might feel like. It was so soft, yet the pliant sleeve inside had a strength she looked forward to testing.
He got a glance at what she’d picked, and lifted his shoulders a little off the bed, stretching to try to see more.
He let his shoulders fall, looked guilty.
“I should punish you, I never said you could move.” She took a sip over her water. “Be good.”
Casually she dripped her fingers into her water and flicked them at his torso, startling him with the sudden motion. He flinched. She grinned.
“Ha.” She fished an ice cube from her drink and looked over her target. His skin was pale, blotched pink at the least pressure, his chest and stomach marked but not hidden by hair. The line of his collarbone made an excellent target, playful, leaving a melt trail as she pressed it to his flesh and slid the ice along.
He gave a little sigh as she circled the ice around his chest, around and then the lightest nudge against his nipples.
“That’s better you’re staying put now.”
He was biting his lip, curious to see where she went next. The ice went quick, melted down into almost nothing and she flicked her tongue across the melt-trail, tasting salt and feeling the contrast of hot and cool skin. He whimpered.
“More?” Her other hand cupped his groin through the fabric over them, then tugged at the elastic, sliding them off his hips, only to realize her mistake.
She made a tsking noise at herself, stopped from further undressing him by his bound legs. “Ha. Didn’t plan everything.”
A quick rip noise and she freed his leg long enough to get him completely naked. “You’re in for a treat, slut. I want you full.”
Even in the summer heat the slick, clear lube was cool on her fingers, glossy and viscous. She squeezed the bottle to ease out a little more, then set it aside.
Her fingers hooked in a come-hither motion, the longest one pressing and coaxing him to relax, spreading the lube and pushing it inside him, then caressing the plug, rolling it in her hand to coat it. She didn’t force, instead using an insistent pressure to push it, until he yielded, swallowing it up, first the tip and then the widest point.
As the swell of it slipped inside him he gave a grunt of accommodation, and that yielding gave her a little thrill that traveled from her cunt up her core. “Do you know what happens next, slut?”
She’d played with him, with the toy before, but it was still a novelty for both of them as she popped the cap off the cup, feeling the petal softness of the inner sleeve before filling it with a generous helping of lube. With the same casual ownership she handled the toys she grabbed around the root of his cock, pumping her lube slick hand up and down, once, twice, three times, before guiding the head of his cock into the narrow constriction of the sleeve.
His reaction was instant, a sort of tension that jerked his hips up at the first hilting slide and squared his shoulders. At first she took her time, hearing the wet, sucking sounds as the sleeve-and-cup did its work, nubs and ribs hidden from view but teasing the length of his cock. “Just right, hm? Tight but not too tight so you can’t feel it?”
As he always did during sex he had gone almost non-verbal, but he managed a quick nod, albeit a little shakey.
“Well look at that,” she purred, enjoying the perspective that let her watch as she engulfed him again and again. “You get that extra kick of hard when I use this, don’t you? But the best part is that it stays.”
He had his eyes closed, but his hips were making little thrusts from below. To punish him, she lifted her arm up a little, pulling the strokes back out of his control, while her palm rested on his stomach. “Nope, you will come when I want you to.”
He made another moan, but she took her time, building and reducing, until she could smell the mix of sweat and lust in the humid air. “Ready?”
A slight twist, skillful and a speed up were all it took to finish building. With a certain degree of satisfaction in her craft, she saw his breath catch and his balls tighten, getting him just about to the point of no return before her verbal consent sent him over.
She gave a chuckle. The sheets were soaked and his hair was glued to his forehead. Even the exertion of working the toy had left her fanning herself in the aftermath. He panted, open mouth, at the last little spasm.
“Shower time. Then my turn.”
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Me, I took the time to write something as realistic as it was erotic. There’s not enough examples of normal people sex, with those pauses, unplanned oops and extra details like lubing it up or rolling on a condom.
“Take off your clothes.” She spoke, abruptly, after breaking off the kissing. She could still feel the stoftness of his lips against hers, the right amount of wet, and the taste-that-was-not-a-taste when she had licked them.
They’d been making out for maybe five minutes, although she tended not to keep track of the time, with a buzzing sort of urge starting to clamour at her to grab control. It always came like this, with the arousal, that as the curl of sensation built up her spine, her mind turned mean.
Her words got his attention, and a little bit of a challenge in the tilt of his head, as yet unlifted from the pillow.
“Yes. Do it.” Sitting up, she got a good look at the whole of him, skinny, very male, matched to her in casual but not shelpy clothes as he took a certain pride in his appearance: a fitted t-shirt in a dark grey, and slacks in khaki that emphasized his squareness.
He had the start of the haze of lust in his pale eyes, body warm and stretched out in her bed in the mounded up cradling of the heavy duvet. A lazy late spring breeze carried fair sounds from outside and the shaded window cast them in the filtered light of the weekend afternoon. There remained a louche, laziness about his movements, reminding her of a cat.
Gesturing, she tugged at the hem of his shirt, up over his flat stomach. He saw it and saw the lack of horizontal splits where his abs could be counted, she saw only the achingly erotic furrow of the vertical muscles and their trail of soft hair to his groin. At her urging, the shirt came off and he stretched with it, pleasing her. His nipples were small pink points on his chest, hair there almost more sandy blonde than rusty red.
“You’re so fucking hot.” She said his name after, tone heavy with how much she meant it. “Show me everything.”
She continued to watch as his hands went to the band of his pants, fingers undoing the button, parting and pulling off his slim hips. For that he was forced to go half upright. That left loose knit cotton boxers and socks. The consortium of female taste had at some point decided men looked stupid in just socks, but she found this belief incomprehensible. It was part of the cozy, naturalness of real sex and she often made it clear they could and should stay on, a little exertion of her will on his.
There was always the tiniest flash of shyness when he revealed his cock, in this case just starting to stir. Earlier, her body had been on his, her weight pressing his groin and her hand running over the obvious texture of his sensitive nipples under the thin fabric of his t-shirt. This teasing was an appetizer to him, but she was quite content at the result.
Cut, balanced in size, nested in hair that was the reddest bright on his body, small curls that added to the sense of radiating warmth. She put a hand on his thigh and the other to cup his balls, “I’m going to want you to finish getting that hard for me.”
She liked to watch men. He had a simple technique, out of the ones she’s seen, always a little different, this one being less curl and tickle and more a motion of the hand and fingers, a circle pulled from mid-length over the ridge of his cock head.
Her cunt gave an anticipatory twitch, hungry. As she watched she let her palm slide slowly from her collar bone over the swell of her breast, land loose to follow the curve of her shape, “Keep going.”
His muscles began to hold tension, a pull in his belly, a squaring in his shoulders and his face taking on a slight expression of exertion.
“I want you to keep stroking and pulling your cock until you get hard for me. I want to see the first couple of drops of your precum. I’m not going to touch it, this time, but you’re going to come for me, when I say, because I want it.”
He said nothing, but his eyes met hers, cock now full erect in his hand. It was pale and pink, even shaded, alive and warm. She grinned.
“Pull back a bit on the sensations, but don’t let yourself get soft. I want you to draw it out for me.”
He gave a huff of breath by way of answer as he complied. Sex muzzled him as surely as tape over the mouth. She grinned, nuzzling against the bottom of his ribs with her face and kissing. From there she pressed against him until her mouth was close to his nipple, tongue darting out to flick, and then a second swirl. She knew it was more teasing for him if he could look down and see the dark wetness of her tongue touch.
“This isn’t about you, this is about putting on a show for me. So make those strokes longer, from cock root to tip. I kinda like the idea of you a little frustrated and wanting more sensation.”
Obediently he complied, and she admired just how long his cock got. “You know you’re so fucking big, and every bit of that belongs to me. That’s my cock, mine to fuck and suck and tease when I feel like it. Right?”
He didn’t have any words, so she repeated it again, prompting with a purr in her voice. “Whose cock is that?”
“Yours… It’s yours, Miss”
“Ok, good boy,” she purred, “You can go back to touching yourself how you like. Go on and get yourself close, I want to hear it in your breathing.”
He wasn’t a big groaner or panter, just an ever increasing strain, like the arousal was a weight that increased, pound by pound with every quarter minute. She spied a little bit of wet, precum, and suppressed the urge to lick it away.
As he got closer to the moment, his face took on a different caste, eyes widening even as the small muscles tensed. There was a desperation, but it wasn’t time yet. She wanted him to feel like they was no choice but to come for her. “Almost, ease off again for me, I like watching your take your time with your cock.”
While she talked, she had a hand on her own groin, pressing through the layers of her drapey cotton skirt and the barrier of her panties. “Fuck yourself for me. Yeah, ok, break’s done, get yourself close again for me. Do you want to come?”
“You do want to come for me, don’t you? You want to let go?” She licked her thumb and then swirled it over his nipple in a spiral.
She could tell he didn’t have any words left, just the sensation. “Come for me, baby. Your balls are all tight, I know you can’t help it, you’re gonna pop, and then I’m going to lick up every creamy white string from your belly.”
“unnhhnrrrrrrrr…!” It became a growl. Her smile was full teeth, even as she pressed harder and ground her own clit.
“Let go and come for me.”
The growls continued, instinctual, as she watched the first pulse of white fountain, spurt after spurt.
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