The Therapist's Secret Love
No one had ever lowered themselves to please me there—not even Jason during our honeymoon phase.
He buried his face between my thighs, his tongue circling that tiny pearl. I grabbed his head, unsure whether I was pushing him away or pulling him closer, as spasms rippled through my core. Then came the flood.
When the tide receded, he stood and shed his pants, revealing the full glory of his shaft at last—veins coiled like serpents, thick and magnificent, easily twice the size of Jason's.
Like an unsheathed blade, it pierced me. At the entrance, those swollen lips seized it hungrily.
Bab Populer