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He didn’t lick or kiss me there but instead sniffed me, savoring my scent.
I felt self-conscious, as if there was something wrong, but he seemed perfectly at ease, enjoying my aroma.
Then he tentatively kissed me, gently slurping at me.
Every touch sent a shiver of fire through my body.
Then his tongue eased inside me.
I was uptight and tense but where his raging cock — and I had seen the large swell of it in the front of his pants several times already — would have struggled to fit inside me, his tongue slipped in easily.
I moaned as it found my g-spot, lapping at it like a puppy with its favorite chewtoy.
His hand lowered to my clit and he rubbed it back and forth.
Not too hard, not too soft.
Just right.
My hips bucked back and forth and my hands went to his horns but I didn’t need to press him or direct him.
He was hitting me exactly as I liked.
“Mmmmm,” I moaned, and he paused for a moment to look up at me.
His lips were wet with my juices and he grinned up at me.
I didn’t think I had ever seen a sexier sight in my life.
Then he buried his lips back on me, his tongue diving back into my pink folds, this time attacking me with greater feverish urgency.
It was too much, and I felt my body reacting to his every caress.
Unable to hold back any longer, he released himself from his pants and dove into me.
My pussy was soaking wet already but even then, it was not ready for the mammoth task he had for me.
I spread my legs as wide as I could manage.
It was just enough for him to slid that huge slab of meat inside me.
He pulled back and my head flopped back on the cot,
My arms reached out for the cot’s edges and found the pallet it was resting on.
I gripped it tightly as Ceara slammed into me.
Every stroke was a hydrogen bomb exploding inside me.
Three strokes in and I was doused with a thin layer of sweat.
Eight strokes, and I was soaked.
My pussy protested, the pain giving way to pleasure with each thrust of ecstasy.
I screamed as he hammered me hard, too many strokes to count now, but they all shoved me powerfully over the precipice and into the welcoming arms of destruction — orgasm — below.
He grunted through his teeth as he rammed me even harder, knocking the cot back inch by inch until we rested on the adjacent wall.
