— as he approached that sweet fruit.
Jaw hung open, wide tongue running from one end of that waiting slit, its coarse fibers being run across puffy outer lips.
Goodness was she sweet. . .
Tongue already running all along his chops, dropping to his knees. Lips pressed against plush flesh of those thighs, one right after the other in nothing but loving pecks; teeth coming to clamp and leave marks of his making. All just to hear her and have the kitty squirm—
/ a bit of laughter came from the man before hands came to undo the bottom buttons of his shirt, lifting it up just enough to reveal the tidy trail of hair that led down his toned stomach /
Is this enough, dear?