PREVIEW
... into my face which I welcomed fully. Velvety walls — softer, more giving, yet fiercely hungry after so many starving years — fluttered and rippled wildly around my spearing tongue, hot, slick, convulsing in frantic contractions that tried to drag me inside.
That deep, heady musk intensified as more cream poured — salty-sweet-ripe, coating my tongue, my lips, the roof of my mouth; every swallow pulled another wave of her mature essence down my throat, thick enough to feel it slide slow a ...
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