It seemed quite apparent the way she snaked her way across my body she definitely was going to get what she wanted. Not that I was ever stopping her; for me I looked at it like a dealer catering to the needs of the addicted, and no stint in sex rehab would ever convince her otherwise.
She wore something simply easy to get into: a summer dress, patterned in light colors with three mere buttons stitched in. It was all that was separating me from her apparent good that sat so wonderful inside the threads. I quickly adjusted myself with a tug in order to be more comfortable.
As on cue, the wet trail of slopping kisses from my neck down to my torso finally made a stop to my crotch, where after much coaxing, she carefully dipped into first my shorts then my boxers like a Scrabble player grabbing a handful of letters; in this case, she paused slightly, caressing my nuts with a gentle massage before starting her oral engagement. With a twitch of its own, the s...
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