[... Continued]
She slaps my left thigh and leaves her hand there, stroking toward my hip. What is she doing? “I might be a virgin, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know that you’re hard, Mr. Grey.” Her voice is like gum drops wrapped in twizzlers, but in the form of pudding... or something. What can I say without telling her where my dick is? “I’d like to tie your hands behind you and smack your face, baby.” She looks scared and now I’m hard again. “Oh, I guess that would be...” I don’t let her finish- I press my mouth passionately onto hers, so passionately blood is drawn. Her lips mimic her soon to be non-existent hymen and I’m on top of her- pushing my authority against her thighs. Her tongue is a fish on land, flapping all over my face like life was threatening to leave it's writhing body. I feel her tiny hand tentatively reach for my knee before it suddenly claws toward my chin. Why is she doing that?
[To be continued...]
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