His little plaything amateur teen
I shoved on his right shoulder. "What's wrong?" "Shh.
I dropped my jaw and used my drool to help stroke him fast and hard. His grip on my hair tightened almost painfully a few seconds later, and then he was coming in my mouth, his eyes clenched tight.
But I soon found myself squatting in the tub.
Then to top it all off, you had to ruin that meal, too!" Chris hugged me when I turned and leaned my head against his chest, suddenly feeling exhausted. His lips pressed against the top of my head, and one hand stroked my hair.
I planned to just sleep through the holiday and continue my ritual pity party. Maybe I could call in sick on Wednesday and take the rest of the fucking week off.
And as much as he liked to tease me with his finger at my asshole-and I enjoyed it-I was adamant that it was the only thing inserted there. For the past few weeks, we'd been concentrating on orgasm control.
Fingers pressed harder into my hips while thumbs stroked the skin on my backside.
I'd watched you earlier, doing your window shopping. You didn't go into any of the stores nearby.