She Starts Riding Me, Rhythmic And Writhing. She Presses Me To Her. “Suck Harder.” God, She’s A Dream. I Comply, Sucking Harder. “What Else?” I Ask Against Her Breast. “Tell Me What You Want, Nix.” “I Want &Amp;Hellip;” She Closes Her Eyes
If a kiss has a color, this one is the muted shades of the sky overhead, a ménage à trois of midnight and indigo and moonshine silver. If a kiss has a sound, this one is the concert of our breaths and sighs and moans. If a kiss has a taste, it tastes
