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“Moving my hand from his throat to his hair, I grasp the dark brown strands with an unrelenting tug and move my clit over his mouth, using his face as my seat. I start riding him, grinding my pussy over his lips. He sticks out his tongue for me to use and use it, I do. It feels almost barbaric. I’m fucking his face. But it’s invigorating, and it’s not something he hasn’t done to me before. “Making me say ‘please’,” I mutter, growling. “Making me beg for it. You bloody man. I’ll make you beg for air. I’ll make you beg me to let you breathe. How about that, fucker.” — Dolores Lane
Moving my hand from his throat to his hair, I grasp the dark brown strands with an unrelenting tug and move my clit over his mouth, using his face as my seat. I start riding him, grinding my pussy over his lips.
He sticks out his tongue for me to use and use it, I do.
It feels almost barbaric. I’m fucking his face. But it’s invigorating, and it’s not something he hasn’t done to me before.
“Making me say ‘please’,” I mutter, growling. “Making me beg for it. You bloody man. I’ll make you beg for air. I’ll make you beg me to let you breathe. How about that, fucker.