Why is my big clit so much more erect than your little cock, little boy? Are you scared?
(A new kind of post from me today. I hope you like it! ~Riko)
You lie docile beneath me, powerless as I straddle you with my strong, muscular thighs. I can tell that you are excited because your breath is coming fast and shallow, but I can also tell that you are nervous, maybe even afraid of my powerful body, because your cock lies flaccid against your thigh.
I rub my pussy against your little prick. Even though my silky, swollen lips are well lubricated, there’s no response from your pathetic little cocklet. Are you really that frightened of me, little boy? I know it’s not that you find me unattractive, because I’ve caught you staring at me with naked lust in your eyes so many times before tonight, before you fell under my power tonight. No, I’ve felt your eyes on me, caressing my hard, round ass; raking my muscular arms and chest and tight little breasts; drinking in my Japanese features—all with the avidity of a true fetishist. I couldn’t tell which you were more obsessed with: my muscularity or my Japanese heritage.
Either way, I think you got a surprise when you finally saw me naked. Sure, you’d seen every bit of my shape in my figure-hugging lycra and spandex gym outfits—even when I wear more modest cotton it ends up stuck to me most alluringly when I become drenched with sweat from my workouts. I know that’s your favorite look, because, without fail, when I’m soaked in sweat, that’s when I can be sure that you will be working out somewhere nearby. I’ll look up, and there you are, just happening to be facing me as you curl; I see you on the on the stairmaster behind mine, watching my ass and calves work; you’re doing your pulldowns directly across from me, spying at me through the universal gym as I do my triceps pressdowns.
But you got a surprise today, didn’t you? You saw something you didn’t expect to see. I got tired of waiting for you to make a move, so I made one myself at the gym. We’re at your place, and, even after a few drinks, you were still acting a little bit too much like the perfect shy gentleman, telling me what a great time you were having, and how you really like me and respect my gym work ethic, and I just had to shut you up by kissing you so hard your lips will be bruised, shoving you down onto the couch, and tearing the buttons off your shirt. The rest of your clothes soon followed, in a mutual frenzy of tugging, zipping, and pulling. I could tell you were excited; you were panting and your cock, though on the small side was clearly beginning to get hard.
And then it was my turn. I stripped down slowly, methodically: first my shirt came off, and since I wasn’t wearing a bra, you got to see the muscular slabs of my flat, broad pecs and the tiny almost vestigial Asian breasts that sit atop them, incongruously. I have a wide Asian waist, but very flat, hard abs. I hit a most muscular pose for you, showing off my pecs, arms and surprisingly large traps, and that’s the first time I see you look a little bit worried. You didn’t expect me to look quite so large out of my clothes, did you? I
Next my pants slide down, and, again, I think you are looking a little bit more scared when you see just how powerful my thighs are, and especially my calves, which look like split grapefruits when I point my toe and turn for you. Are you imagining them wrapped around you, crushing you til your face turns purple? I know I am, and I’m sure it shows in my face, in my hungry smile.
And then my little black panties come off. You’re not prepared for what you see, then. Maybe you saw my little bulge on a day when I was accidentally sporting a camel-toe, but chances are you haven’t seen much, as I am very careful not to show it off at the gym, where my Rikochanpornstar identity is very much hidden. Maybe you guessed from my size that I might have a bigger than average clitty—clearly with my size and muscularity I don’t have a shortage of testosterone. And maybe you assume that since I am an amateur bodybuilder, I have a big clitty. But clearly you didn’t expect it to. Be. So. Big.
I’ve been thinking about this moment ever since I hit the showers, and I even got myself ready with a little bit of slippery, soapy fun in the shower, and I’ve been sitting with my legs crossed all night, squeezing and relaxing my powerful thighs making my clit more and more stimulated, hard, and swollen. Usually when people see it for the first time, it’s smaller, and softer—it looks like a particularly swollen normal clit. There’s nothing normal about the way it looks now, though, after I got it ready for you. It hangs down shockingly low. It’s full and heavy, and when I move, it sways, ever so slightly. It’s red and glistening and hard. My labia which hang from it like meaty lips are engorged and literally dripping wet; there’s actually my own natural lubrication running in slow, thick droplets down the insides of my thighs.
As I come closer, towering above you lying passive and helpless on the low couch, my pussy is enormous, swollen, and hungry looking. I can see real fear in your eyes now. Sure, there’s excitement, too, in the shallowness of your breath and the hectic red of your cheeks, but clearly I am something so far outside your experience and your expectations that there’s real doubt there, too. How can you hope to please my magnificent pussy with your tiny little cock? I can see the question in your eyes. She’ll be disappointed, I won’t be able to satisfy her.
Silly boy, I think, as I lower myself down onto your soft limp cock, there’s nothing more satisfying than this. I begin to rotate my hips, slowly at first, and then harder and faster. You’re caught in that terrible state of being too excited to control yourself, yet too afraid to get truly hard. In mere seconds, you’ll come, without ever having gotten hard enough to even penetrate me. I could tell you that it’s ok, that it’s the shame and the humiliation and the power that I have over you that are making me so damned horny. But that would be giving it away, wouldn’t it?
No, I’m watching the guilt and shame and pure arousal warring in your eyes, and I’m starting to feel my own orgasm rising. I could get to like this, I think to myself. Maybe it’s time to contact a few of my micropenis fans who are always asking to do a video session with me. I’m taken, then by the idea of a gangbang with several guys who aren’t actually big enough to penetrate me—instead I grind against their little nubs until they cream on me, and I cream on them, and then I’m coming, coming on you, squirting, and you don’t even know it, but it isn’t even your soft little cock that made me come but the thought of another man’s micropenis. If you only knew how much more ashamed would you be?
A fan of my big clit kindly pointed out that I haven’t just posted a new nude shot of myself in ages. She was right. Yes, the long blog posts are fun, but, really it’s all about the clitty for a lot of my fans, I realize. And I sympathize—sometimes you want to read a story or an essay or a fantasy that makes your brain wet, but sometimes it’s just about seeing boobs and asses and pussies and clits (Not that my last post didn’t have a pretty amazing picture, however, but it’s true that it wasn’t me.) Sometimes you just want to look at the picture and make up your own story, right? I can’t tell you how much fun I’ve had imagining stories about myself in this latex costume, from DeviantDisplay or imagining what I might do with this well-endowed PonyGurl.
So, I’m happy to post pictures. But, still I can’t help wondering what fantasies you might have when you look at them. When I posted this one, I wondered if, maybe one of them might go something like this.
Rikochan reclined before me, her tight-laced corset making her posture unnaturally erect. Her nipples were fat, swollen, engorged, restrained, by slipknot pendants pulled cruelly tight. The pendants pinched her nipples so hard at the base that they swelled out like little round purple bundles of nerves and swollen ducts, which wept slightly—tears of pain, I imagined. I was sure that a pendant pulled that that tight would make me weep real tears of real pain, but to Riko this was merely an appetizer. Her nips, she’d told me, as she’d guided my hands as I put on pendants—harder!—would be pumped so hard later that night that they’d began to leak for real, the ducts overstimulated into expressing droplets of a milky, watery fluid, even though she wasn’t lactating. I knew I’d be pulling on those pendants as hard as I could, and soon.
But, for now, I was happy just to look—and to touch myself, the first two fingers of my right hand flicking back and over my surprisingly slippery, surprisingly hard little clit. I’d never masturbated in front of a woman before. In fact, I’d always considered myself straight, a polite and innocent student (relatively speaking) who’d never do something like this. I’d been unsure about this, at the bar, but clearly my body had no doubts.
Rikochan wore a latex mask that showed only her eyes and mouth, with holes for her nostrils. Her eyes were half closed, and her mouth half open as she panted slightly. Her face, I was sure, was flushed with excitement—I could tell because the blush had spread down her neck and over the tops of her small, almost androgynous breasts. I began to work my labia, alternating between rubbing the length of my first two fingers against the mouth of my vagina and then spanking my whole pussy with my open hand, doing each progressively harder and faster each time I switched. The sound of my masturbation was rude, wet, sexy.
Her legs were bent and spread wide, and I sat between them, leaning back on my elbows as I gazed at her, warm with wine and lust. My slender feet held her ankles apart like a human spreader bar. I knew her strong legs could easily scissor closed, trapping me between them, but I also knew that they wouldn’t. She was trapped by her own desire far more effectively than a mere bar of wood or metal could restrain her. The evidence: her strong arms, resting at her sides calmly, palms up on her muscular thighs as if in an attitude of meditation—or surrender.
The only part of Rikochan that was unrestrained was her pussy. Her huge, swollen clitoris drew my eye like a magnet. I had the impression that only the tautness of her clitoral hood—pulled tight by the weight of her meaty, engorged labia—prevented her fat clitty from standing up straight like an erect little cock. Though prevented from standing rampant, her clit was swollen to such a length that almost her entire clitoral glans was uncovered. This I realized, staring at what looked liked a miniature penis head, was what a real futanari looked like. Increasingly excited, I slipped the first two fingers of my right hand into my pussy, which was so wet that there was almost no friction. I bent the fingers sharply and jammed the fingers in right up the last knuckle, so that I was touching my g-spot.
Her whole pussy was exposed to me as I slouched back on one elbow, staring, and it was a hypnotic—If I stared into it for much longer, I’d never be able to look away. I could see the faint vibration of her pulse shaking her clit in time with her throbbing heart, and when I leaned forward and reached out to caress one firm little breast, her whole pussy contracted, as if with an involuntary kegel. I could see her pussy’s slick, shiny lube begin to overflow.
I knew she was close to squirting, so I released her breast. I didn’t want her to squirt—not yet—and I was afraid that even touching her nipple would set her off. I had other plans for her female ejaculation. First I wanted to see if her little futanari cock could do what I hoped it would—penetrate me, fuck my own tingling pussy. That’s when I wanted her to squirt, as we ground together her clit deep inside me; she’d soak my little clit, my lips, and my pussy. I’d move just so, so that she could squirt into me, over and over again, and that’s when I’d come.
Maybe I’d squirt, too—there was a first time for everything, after all, and tonight was a night for firsts. My first time kissing a girl had gone marvelously well, as had my first time getting one drunk on earthy red wine (of which I had drunk plenty myself). Nuzzling at her hard, tender nipples had been heavenly, as had been her kisses and light bites on mine. Perhaps I’d forget myself so far as to let lose a flood of juices when hers soaked me. I imagined myself coming so hard it was indistinguishable from a seizure, so loudly that my dorm-mates could hear, and I bit my lips, hard, against the sound I hadn’t even begun to make yet.
I’ll never be more aroused than this again in my life, I thought, as the pads of my index finger and middle finger massaged my g-spot faster and faster—it began to feel spongy and full, as Riko had described her as feeling when she was good and ready to squirt, and I knew it was now or never. I threw one leg over hers and dragged her toward me, my little clit ready to be crushed against her huge one as we scissored each other to orgasm…
You know, something like that. Making up your own story—that’s the fun of pictures. The little scene above is one that I imagined last night, from the point of view of a very studious English friend of mine who confessed to my great delight that she’d come many times while looking at my pictures. I was glad to hear that she gets takes a break from her studies now and then (it sounds like she’s working far too hard), and I wondered what she thought when she looked at my pictures, what fantasy was going through her head when she jacked off to my pictures and stories. And so this story came to me, and, from me, to her—and to you.
Got a fantasy about this picture, or some other picture of me, or even just about an image of me that’s only in your head? Tell me about it in the comments section–If I get enough, I’ll post some excerpts on my blog next week!
I’ve had a fantasy about Ashlee Chambers for a while. She’s a fitness model, dominatrix, and pornstar, and (importantly for this story) a trainer. I met her on FetLife, which I joined on the advice of SheMuscle’s Brian Moss. You can find Ashlee on ashleechambers.com, her blog, and Shemuscle and DirtyMuscle, among other places. She’s also done a Bodybuilders in Heat video (which I own). I think about her a lot lately when I’m watching porn, because it’s often her porn. I also think when I think about girls—which is often, lately. My friend Mistress K has encouraged me to write this post with her sexy post about her first time with a girl. My first time is still in the future, and, in one of my favorite fantasies it’s with Ashlee.
[Thanks to Mistress K at Deviant Display for beta reading this story. I probably never would have finished it if I hadn’t promised it to her! It’s good to have a domme as your reader. 😉 ]
I’m standing. Barely. I’m stretching as I wait for my new trainer, Ashlee. Her methods are…different from what I’m used to. For one, I’m not wearing my running shoes, or even the Chuck Taylors I wear for lifting. Instead, I’m stretching in heels I can barely balance in. I can feel a burn all the way up the backs of my legs, because I’m bent so far forward. My calves are getting a workout, too, as I struggle to stay standing, quivering against the spreader bar that keeps my legs splayed wide. I’ve been bent forward for some time, now. I’ve got no choice. My arms are pinioned behind my back in a single leather sleeve that reaches from the tips of my fingers almost to my shoulders. My hands are attached to something above my head, so I have no choice but to maintain my bent position.
I’m waiting for Ashlee. I can’t tell where she is, because I’m wearing an antique gas mask whose lenses are blacked out. I can’t ask if she’s there, because I’ve also got a bit between my teeth, and I’m helpless to do anything about the saliva slowly sliding out of my wet mouth. I imagine it slithering down the hose of the mask, which sways as I move my head from side to side trying to catch a sound over breathing in the mask.
How did I get here? I wonder. I mean, I remember—I just don’t quite understand. Kraka said he’d found me a new trainer, one who specialized in getting clients ready for porn shoots and videos. I’ve been working to get in shooting shape to shoot for months without getting where I want to be, and Kraka said this woman, Ashlee, could help me. I’d imagined it would be a pole dancing class—you know: one of those empower-your-inner-vixen things. It wasn’t.
Ashlee had met me at the door and whisked me down to the basement gym. She was blond, cute, and extremely fit looking in her no-nonsense business clothes. She was also tiny—shorter than me, and I’m only 5′ 6.” But there was nothing shy or retiring about this woman, whose presence seemed to fill the room.
“You’re the client who wants to get in shape for…entertaining? The one who needs help…disciplining herself?” she’d asked, with the hint of a smile, her eyes boring into mine.
No one makes eye contact like that, I’d thought—it’s like being in a staredown with John Lydon. I’d looked down, stammering some kind of answer.
“Yes,” she laughed, softly. “You’re in the right place. Now, let’s see what we’ve got to work with.” And then she began to help me out of my clothes right there in the gym. No dressing room. No privacy. No choice.
When I tried to cover my hairless nudity as I changed, she’d simply pushed my hands away, gently but firmly. “You’re not here to cover up, are you, Riko?” When I’d reached into my gym bag, she took it from my hands, placing it to one side. She’d pointed instead at a very small amount of clothing folded on a weight bench. Ashlee’s training gear is…different from what I’m used to. Instead of a weight belt, I put on a waist nipper cinched tighter than any corset I’ve ever worn. My breasts were exposed. Instead of yoga pants and sneakers, I’d got sheer black silk mesh panties and thigh-high stockings. For my feet, heels so high that I’m afraid I will fall. It’s strange to feel such smooth, luxurious clothes for a workout.
As if sensing my confusion, Ashlee said “Your body, your muscles aren’t just for throwing weights around. You’ve got to learn balance and composure and endurance—mental and physical—too.” And then she began to pull the waist nipper tight, far tighter than I would have ever thought to do on my own. Under the care of her powerful hands, I felt like a child being dressed—but not by her mother.
There was a gallon jug of ice cold water by my side. Ashlee has told me that she expects me to drink all of it by the time we’re through. Hydration, she said, with a twinkle in her eye that I do not understand, is everything. I drank as she watched. She gestures, “Again.” And again. And again.
I struggled to find a comfortable way to hold myself erect in the unfamiliar heels as Ashley stared into my eyes again. I sensed that to look away now would be wrong, so I held her gaze. “The safe word is ‘quit,'” she said. “Do you understand?”
“Safe word? I don’t think…”
“‘Quit.’ I need to hear you say it.”
“I don’t expect to hear it again today. If you’re in trouble, you won’t hesitate to say it. But, because you trust me, and because I am in complete control of what happens in my gym, I don’t expect you to need say it. Do you understand?”
And, just like that, she’d begun to bind me. First the bit. Then the spreader bar. Then the mask. Then the arm binding. She was so calm and efficient, so matter of fact as she bound me, that I didn’t even think complain about any of it, until she began to slowly bend me slowly forward by lifting my arms behind me. Then I began to moan and shake my head, struggling with the bit.
She’d pulled the mask up, then. Her eyes searched mine, coolly assessing. “Did you say ‘I quit,’ Riko?”
I stared back. This was the moment, and we both knew it. If I said no, she’d let me go, I was sure of that. There’d be no fuss, no argument, no recriminations. But, also, no risk, no adventure, no surrender. I was, I knew at the very edge of a whole new category of experience. But which: fetish nirvana or nightmare? I knew there was a decent chance I’d regret holding my tongue, but there was no chance at all that I’d ever be able to forgive myself for backing out now. Besides, I felt a strange kind of trust, a bond I didn’t understand with Ashlee, that she would take care of me. Strange to feel for someone who’s putting a bit into your mouth, but…
I shook my head: No. I don’t quit. Do it. I’m in your hands. And that’s how I got here.
Much later, I’m blinking in the light. The gasmask is gone—now I’m wearing a full head mask with holes only for my eyes and mouth. My arms are free, and I’m barefoot now. My breasts are exposed, and my nipples are almost painfully erect, partly because it’s cold in this basement gym, but mostly because Ashlee is looking me up and down, assessing my body, seeing what she has to work with.
She has me point my toes to show off my huge calves, which please her. I’m happy, because I often think they might be too big. My weak arms clearly dismay her. I’m ashamed. She cups my ass when I flex my glutes, which clearly need more work from the expression on her face. Her hands linger there, however, and I begin to imagine that maybe she feels something of what I feel when I look at her.
Because I am looking at her, sneaking peeks as she inspects me head to toe, walking around me, bending to raise my foot (as though I were a horse) to inspect my pedicure, tsking at the fat I still have to lose along my waistline. I’m devouring her with my eyes. I’m eating her alive. I’m consuming her. She’s perfect, powerful, dangerous, intimidating. Her body is hard, sculpted, cut, and shredded. I would kill for her biceps, her shoulders, her ass, her pecs—her incredible breasts, pushed up by her corset, her nipples also exposed, engorged. Is she excited by me, or is it just the coolness of the room and her enthusiasm for training? I let myself hope that it’s at least a little bit for me. She’s intimidating in her physicality, even though she’s so small. She’s not nearly as big as the big girls, the huge FBBs (who I also love). But it’s her presence, her posture, the way she carries herself that is truly riveting, almost terrifying. You can’t look away from her. You want to please her. You can’t disobey her.
Inspection over, the workout begins. She takes me through a serious of exercises, fast and hard: first it’s burpees to warm up, then pushups to planks, then walking lunges, always drinking more water between each set. I’ve never worked harder for a trainer. I want to please her. I want to be the person she thinks she can make me. I begin to sweat, despite the coolness of the gym. I’m so full of water, it’s leaking out through my pores. The exercise is hard, fast, and rigorous, but, truth be told, I’m in pretty good shape—much of the perspiration comes from having such a sexy trainer looking at me, touching me, even occasionally complimenting me.
Ashlee’s voice as she commands, corrects, and exhorts, is always sharp and firm, but never loud—like a dog trainer on Animal Planet, I think, smiling to myself as work through my fifth set of straight leg deadlifts. Ashlee can see that my focus is wavering, and I get the crop, after my last rep is finished. That’s something you don’t see on TV; I can’t turn to look, but I know it’s left an angry red welt on my ass. “Focus, Riko, or I’ll have to punish you! Is that what you want?”
I don’t know the answer to that. I suspect it might be “Yes.” Fortunately she doesn’t require an answer.
Next it’s squats. Deep, deep squats. I can’t get far enough down to please her, so she makes me squat without the bar, holding the pose at the bottom. She stands behind me and positions my legs, roughly spreading my knees further apart.
“Imagine you’re fucking your man—you’re squatting above him, and you want to get as much of him inside you as you can. Come on,” she says, cupping my pussy. “You want him in here, don’t you?”
My clit is instantly swollen and hard against her palm, and my pussy is so wet that juices actually start to trickle down my leg. I’ve never been so wet.
“Well,” she says, “I can see that you do, you dirty girl.” Her hot hand remains on my pussy, and my legs begin to shake, both from the agony of holding the position so long and from the delicious sensation of Ashlee’s firm touch on my pussy. I begin to stand up, afraid I will fall. “What are you doing? Hold still! She says. “Did I say to move? Are you getting distracted again, by this?” She squeezes my pussy so hard that I see a white light in front of my eyes. “You can’t be distracted by anything! This is bodybuilding, but that doesn’t mean it’s just physical! It’s just as much mental, maybe more! You have to keep your mind focused.” She begins to rub my pussy, her palm caressing my labia and her fingers rubbing and pinching gently at my clit, which feels huge, hard, swollen. “You can’t let anything distract you. No matter how sweet or how painful.”
I begin to moan. I’m embarrassed, but I can’t help myself. My panties are soaked and so are the insides of my thighs. I’m close to coming, closer still to squirting. I’ve drunk so much water, and it’s all about to come spraying out. My legs begin to shake, and I know that I’m going to fall. Ashlee senses this and talkes some of my weight off my legs with the hand that’s on my pussy. The pressure pushes me over the edge, and I come, gushing all over Ashlee’s hands as I struggle to stay standing, mortified that I am flooding the gym floor with my juices, which just keep on coming. There’s a confusion as the orgasm causes my senses to go haywire, and I’m not sure if I’m squirting or pissing anymore. I’ve squirted before, but never like this. The sounds I make…it’s a good thing this gym is underground. Ashlee is strong—she holds me up until the orgasm mostly subsides, then lets me sink to the rubberized floor, jerking and twitching right there in my own puddle.
“Your endurance needs work, Riko,” she tells me, as I gasp to catch my breath. Your Vo2 must be awful. I think it’s time for some cardio breathplay. Lie back,” she commands.
As I watch from my back, Ashlee, standing above me, steps out of her panties, folds them, and sets them aside on a weight bench. I’m staring at the rippling, bunching, flexing muscles of her beautiful calves, quads, and ass as she moves. And then, when all is revealed, her gorgeous pussy, and her perfect clit, the fat pink glans already peeking out. She gives me a wicked smile. “Deep breaths, Riko. It’s time to test your lungs now.” I know what’s coming.
Ashlee stands above my head, and then begins to squat down above me. Slowly, slowly her pussy comes down and back toward my face. She may act as though she’s in control, but I can tell that she’s excited by what’s about to happen, too, because her fantastic clit is growing as she descends, becoming, longer and more swollen before my eyes. My mouth aches for it. And then, finally, it’s there, the glans slowly penetrating my pursed lips as she descends, until her entire glans is inside my mouth.
Who is this person I’ve suddenly become? Who is this persons who can’t get enough of the pussy in front of her? What happened to my nerves at the thought of licking another woman’s cunt for the first time? Forget licking, I’m sucking, I’m slurping, biting, straining to my neck to get her all the way inside my mouth, until she firmly presses me back down to the matt. She’s in still charge.
She bobs up and down there for a while, thrusting her erect clit into my mouth like a cock until it’s as hard as the hardest cock I’ve ever sucked on. When she’s ready, she sinks down to her knees and lowers her pussy mound to my mouth, labia to my lips, grinding her clit against my lips and teeth, saying “Catch your breath, Riko, you’re going to need it!”
I can’t breathe. It doesn’t matter; all I want is to keep devouring Ashlee’s slick, hairless pussy, whose hot juices begin to flow freely into my mouth, running down the side of my face, into my eyes, my hair, down my neck between my breasts…
As I begin to see gray in front of me she lifts off me and I gasp for air, yet strain my neck to continue devouring her. She lowers herself back onto me, and the process continues repeated over and over again, until I’m in another state of mind, an altered state in which my world is Ashlee’s pussy.
And then, just when I’m completely lost in the ecstasy of pleasuring her, I feel her hand on my clit, in my cunt, and, just like that, I’m exploding, I’m suffocating, I’m gasping, I’m hyperventilating, I’m squirting, I’m writhing, I’m gushing over and over and over again.
When I come to, Ashlee is holding me. I’m wrapped in a big soft towel, and she’s holding me in her strong arms. I’m cradled in arms, and, when I open my eyes, she’s smiling down at me. “Good job, Riko. I think you’ll do well here. I think we can make something of you. You’ve passed the test. Would you like to continue? If so, I’ll expect you to be here Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.”
“That’s ‘Yes, Mistress Ashlee’ to you, from now on,” she says, smiling, but with a note of steel in her voice.
“Yes, Mistress Ashlee, I say,” shyly, burying my face against her soft chest to hide the fierce blush burning my cheeks.
I can’t believe it. I submitted, and loved it. I have a domme. I love the taste and feel of pussy against my lips and tongue. I got the workout of my life All that in the first session?
I think I’m going to like it here. Three nights a week.
In my fantasy, that’s the first time I ever taste another woman’s pussy. But it’s not the last.