Ehma twisted in her bed for the one-thousandth time, restless. Had she failed at her programme of seduction ? Was she just that bad at it ?

The exercising weight of her head fell back into the pillow as she stared at the ceiling. This whole billet was getting old. Really old.

She bit her lip, trying to make up one's mind if there was something she wasn't seeing. Something that had slipped her creative thinker. Hadn't she made it perfectly light up ? She'd remain elusive to him in the daylight hours, but at night— That was their fourth dimension to play.

Her clenched fist clenched in an attempt to relieve the tension she felt, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be, not until he was there with her. Taking her. Using her. If not, then what was the point of it all ?

In the wan moonlight of her tranquilize bedroom, something made an audible mouse click. It was a familiar noise. One she had been so fix for she had half heard it in her vision a dozen or so time already. Was that what was happening now ? Had she imagined it again in her frustration ?

The faint sound of a door handle being turned told her no. This wasn't her imagination. This was real.

Irish bull. She had been so consumed with if it would happen, she had forgotten to design for when it happened. Most of the planning had already been made, sure, but—was she even laying in a normal position ?

Her arms were bent above her question, a mat of gyre between the sum of her arm and the curved shape of her face. That was more or LE pattern. Even if she slept in the fetal attitude most nights, it wasn't out of the ordinary for people to chuck in play in their rest. Still, her knees were canted awkwardly with one overlapping the other. But if she moved now, he would see her. He might leave. He might—

The springs of her mattress groaned under considerable weight and her heart stammered right along side it. What felt like a million questions flooded her mind all at once. How should she respire ? Should her mouth be slightly open ? How long should she wait before clueing him in to the fact she was awake ?

You're so beautiful when you sleep.

The thought pierced her consciousness like a tongue through warm butter. That was a good comparison. Exactly how she felt. Warm. Exposed. Vulnerable. Holy nether region, this is hot.

Ehma put all of her vigour into keeping up the act. Forcing herself to get hold of deep, even breaths. Forcing herself not to wriggle as a fingertip trailed along her arm to the blank space where her tank top began right above her ribs. He knew she was ticklish. He knew it and he tested her anyway.

even so, his fingerbreadth didn't stop there. It continued its route towards her chest and softly plucked at the flesh of her teat. acerate leaf to say, her areola reciprocated the attention with or without her consent. If he would just osculate it, she probably would stimulate climaxed from that alone.

But her other nipple soon dragged his attention away and she embraced the look. The warm tenderness of it. It wouldn't be long now. He would lick them and suck them and bite them both. Soon.

I don't know how I got so lucky, but…

Such a unproblematic persuasion. Such an honest one. Ehma didn't have time to relish it though as a sec helping hand made a laissez passer at her curl. In the darkness behind her eyelids, she felt his mite as her hair was brushed aside. Fingertips lingered at her temple and then swept behind her ear. This was too lots.

She could already sense the slickness between her thigh, her lips swollen with prediction. She'd made sure to shave that day. Even though she knew his spit would detect its way between her legs either way. And now, the heat was almost unbearable.

But she had to be secure. This was just too hump hot. If she broke the fancy, they would still make love life. But would it be as good ? And there was the fact she wanted to see what else he had planned.

Her heart all but plummeted when the weighting beside her change and then left altogether. Was he leaving ? Really ? Really ? !

Through one blurred scratch, she peeked. It was all improper. The angle of her head. His stance in the room. She couldn't see bullshit. For a present moment her jaw tightened and she thought about giving up. Just saying nookie it.

Much to her surprisal, from above a pair of rim pressed against her wrist. Soft. Slow. Deliberate.

His lead of lovemaking spanned the length of her arm and then her neck. Then her ear. And then the blank between her eyebrow. Her forehead. The last episode of tenderness was the hardest to stomach. All she wanted was to draw him near and feel the weighting of his dearest against blank space where her tension was most often found.

But then his lips were on the ridge of her nose and her breath caught in her throat. He didn't observation or didn't care, for her sass were his next aim. He didn't pain correcting the angle of her neck and instead kissed her where she lay. Gentle at first off, soon her lips were tender as he sucked them.

The full ordeal sent a dissimilar sort of stress through her body. Her arms, her tit, her tummy, and legs. All of it screamed for attention. Hard. Soft. She didn't care.

The pillow beneath her head was pulled away and for a moment Ehma was left fox. That is until rough-cut manus tugged her body closer to the boundary of the bed. in by inch until her pass swayed backward.

Was he going to— Did he intend to—

A 1 breath was all it took to know for sure. Robust. Bitter. Masculine. Her backtalk would be the offset dupe in his subjection. The first hole to feel his girth in all its hungriness. Maybe the only golf hole if he didn't play his cards right.

She could finger his eyes as they watched her. Probably trying to resist of his guttural instincts. That was fine, for now. Later though…

Her breathing time rebounded against something, and a moment later that something caressed her sass. The large V of his crown eased against her seat lip, the pressure growing as he guided his prick into view. Oh god, this was it. The urge to kiss it was overwhelming.

Instead, she let her mouth open a trivial wider. Just a bit. He would have to force the quietus in if wanted her to submit. And then, he did.

In a moment that seemed to span timeless existence, her mouth stretched around his nous. The crown pressed against the bed of her spit. The all-encompassing V slick against the ridgepole at the roof of her mouthpiece. A generous helping of precum melted against her taste buds.

He didn't full point until he was met with the ultimate conclusion. Force his way past her tonsilla and use her like he wanted to, or be satisfied with a cock one-half buried. He didn't stop.

The warmth of his tight balls tickled against her forehead as he bottomed out and finally she gagged. His bm was subtle, but she felt him readying to slide the other way. That however wasn't what she wanted, or what he needed.

Giving up the feigning, her arm shot out and wrapped his cute ass. Ehma pulled back towards her face and only relaxed when a forest of pubic hair nestled against span of her nozzle. It was intoxicating, his aroma the only thing on her mind beyond the bend of his shaft settled in the back of her throat.

"piece of ass babe,"he groaned as his hips spasmed against her in an attempt to drive deeper into her embrace.

Ehma welcomed it and for a moment forgot everything else. He never called her babe. Maybe that was her demerit. She had refused to let him say those three little word of honor, but—just hearing him call up her that. It was so much Sir Thomas More confidant than the short nickname they gave each other.

Hands gripped her. First her tit, firmly over the fabric of her tank. And then that was pulled away as he thrust against her sassing.

Her teat were his toys for the here and now just as her sass was. He pinched them harder and then squeezed her boob. They were so sensitive now, it didn't really weigh what he did. As long as he made it clear they belonged to him

But then his hired man wrapped either side of meat of her waist and the pressure was ineffable. A mo later both her sympathizer and her cute minuscule pantie were discarded somewhere spiritual world. A pitty, she had really debated over which pair would wreak him to his knees.

She knew if he had it his way, her pussy would have been his first priority. He loved counting her coming as he ate her, experimenting with her clit and the lowly band of elastic muscle that lead to her ass. Fingering. Kissing. Biting. Sucking on her clitoris and then sinking his tongue into her motherfucker.

But this was about him. She had made that much clear. He didn't have to be worried about hurting her. Even if he did, it would be a in force sort of pain she could wear proudly.

Fuck this short mouth with your big shaft. make up my slutty oral fissure yours and only yours.

"Fuck."

His jagged reception coincided with the rough intervention of her thigh. He pinned them at her side against the mattress in one sweep move, her flesh gripped between his fingers. In all her years, no one had ever touched her the way he did. Dominated her with such firm, tenderness. She always half-expected some hidden cruelty to worm its surly way from the profundity of his heart, but it never did.

"Your pussy belongs to me."

Something about the confidence in his voice. The clarity of it right before his clapper grazed the sheepfold of her labia and then circled like a predator… Every part of her ached for more.

heat energy teased along the hood of her clit. Teeth nipped at her mound. She wanted more—nearly desperate—but his hips shifted away. The fighting to keep him seated in her pharynx was a losing one, even with her hands clenched at his cute cheeks. Ehma grumbled as the head left her rim with the pop of a wet kiss.

"You want dad to eat this twat ?"

Another weird wrick of his. One he would have to earn."I want you to eat it."

"Eat what ?"

"This kitty-cat,"she gasped as he bit her clit. The intellection of him leading her into his own little dark fantasy was so… Honestly, it was hard to describe how it made her spirit. Sexy. Wanted. Desired.

"What do you say ?"

"Please."And now she was begging. Great.

"Please what ?"

"Please eat this pussy."

It didn't feel right to talk. She'd much rather have his dick hang inside her throat. They could always transmit other ways. Perhaps he sensed that in her.

Do you want dad's peter or not ?

She sighed as his mentation echoed in her idea, but in all honesty she was just a tad bit more excited than she really should feature been. It was all character of the seduction after all. She would be his own lilliputian personal jade. And he—his spunk, his soul—would be her slave for all timeless existence. While she hadn't explicitly said as a lot, it was genuine.

With that in thinker, she spoke in the most except vocalization she could muster."Please eat this pussy while you fuck my face, daddy. Please, I can't live without you."

Fuck. That net part was a little too close to the truth. She wasn't make for him to know that yet. Thankfully, his wit didn't seem to sustain enough profligate to function properly. The grounds pass by the binge cock prodding at her mouthpiece. She took it, and a bit later her physical structure spasmed as his tongue squirmed against her vaginal walls.

It was just foreplay—not even sex—but in that moment it was more. So much more. Maybe love. Maybe—

Each jagged breath through her nozzle came with a certain numbness. Or maybe it was her idea that was numb. It certainly wasn't her her pussy as he sucked her like a starving tiddler. It certainly wasn't her ass as he slipped a digit inside of her. Even the star of her tit as they grazed his chest— Fuck, I'm gon na cum. I'm gon na cum.

The thick cock wedged inside her oral fissure stiffened, growing harder if even possible. What really did it for her—what really satiated her own fantasy—was the scorching R-2 of liquid as it hit the spinal column of her throat. She gave in completely.

Gulping. Shaking. Digging her nails into his sexy boldness. Clenching both fingerbreadth sliding in and out of her ass like he would break her if she didn't.

She wanted to scream that she was about to cum. Warn him that she was about to gush everywhere. All that came was a pathetic whine. Even her mind refused to verbalize her concerns.

"That's it, sister. Cum for daddy. Squirt all in my—"

It was happening. It was really fucking happening. And his back talk were closed around her slit. For one beautiful present moment she was aware as she swallowed him, he was swallowing her. A second rung of midst passion scene into her throat and the river between her peg continued to flow.

They came together in one blissful moment, and then the body that was above her was below her. She was on her articulatio genus and he was sound asleep with hips bucking into her sassing. She drank the last of him as she watched his fists clenched at the rag.

A wet pipe dream for the mortal prince she had crowned herself wasn't all bad. He would find out to crave her. Need her. She in turn would learn every picayune dirty illusion he kept locked in his drumhead. They would get as close to perfect for one another as possible. And then ...

Ehma kissed the tip of his cock one final stage time, savoring its warmness before delicately placing it back in his boxers. This was requisite, as a good deal as she hated to admit it. If she didn't, she would never leave.

With that mentation on her mind, and the memory of her vision—one where her tum was beyond swollen with his child—she inched away. A portal to her own dimension opened as she rose from the bed, but her eyes never left him."Next time, I hope you make it passed the blowjob. ”