Hot heated dripping ****.
Three orgasms. Your pale skin flushed a hot pink, rivulets of sweat beading across and falling as your chest rose and fell. Your little nipples were painfully hard, straining, so stimulated from my ticklish affections. Catch your breath. Tangles of hair against the pillow. The blindfold over your eyes, still the only thing I let you wear.
You lick your lips. A moan. Loud and needy. Breath is important now. The sheets under your cheeks are soaked. Ruined. Your inner thighs undulate, hot cream laquering your **** and mound, wetness glistening across the rest. You can't see me. But you can feel me as I move, prowling, ready to strike again.
But where?
But how?
Your whine is followed by a helpless anxiety giggle and plea as I grab your ankle, bringing it as high upward as the under the bed restraints will allow. I open my mouth. My thumbs press into your arches. My lips wrap around your middle three toes. And I suck. Hard. Slowly, painstakingly pulling upward. My mouth, suckling, gripping with heavy suction as my lips skimmed up your toe stems, to the bulbs of your toes. Your nails against the roof of my mouth. And I let go. Only to start again. And then your pinkie toe. And then, without hesitation, your big toe. Like a lollipop. Bobbing it up and down over my lips. My tongue flicking against the bulb and base. Skim and suck up and down, and my eyes watch your pussy smolder and clinch helplessly.
"Your feet really are gorgeous." A flick of the nipple. Stifled harsh biting moan. And you say something, but I'm back to sucking on your big toe again. And then.
And then.
"I'm glad they're so ticklish."
My fingertips flutter. Not just over that sole, but your other as well. Dancing with my fingertips, with a light bite of my nails, focused right over the balls. Your tender, deviously ticklish balls. You try to move And fight away, but I follow each limited pull you muster. Always following. Always tickling.
Your laughter makes my cock pulse and quake.
It always has.
How long can I stay down here playfully tickling Your feet? For a long time. But after eight minutes, nonstop of varied light and playful and predatory tickles, you feel my fingers pinch your nipples and pull up.
"Time to get your cum again..."
My fingers press against your mound, spreading your dripping lips open, exposing your clit. I've already tickled down here, but, remember, you always wished for me to be more intimate here than you could ever possibly be. Picking up a fine tipped artist brush, I start swirling along the sides of your clit, then tickling over it, and then sweeping down the sides, over and over, watching, waiting.
The second your moans become beyond desperate, again...I stop.
I pinch your nipples. I pull them upward. And when I let go, I take that cum soaked brush and tickle the undersides of your swollen nipples.
And then my fingers spread you wide open again. And with frenetic intensity, I tickle and lap at your entire clit with the bristles of the brush.
And when you get close...
I stop.
And pinch your nipples again.
And tickle them again with the brush.
And then I spread your lips again, and it is the sharp tendrils of a fresh feather sawing over your clit. And over. And over. Desperate sounds come from you. It's all causing a surge within me. Laugh for me. Laugh with those dripping sexual moans. Feed me your want. Your need.
I deny. Again. But then I start sawing and battering with the feather. And deny. And tickle. And deny. Until it's so close. That any minute you might cum. Just one little thing.
I sink my cock deep inside you. Ankles unlatched. You cum across me. But the real question is, do you feel me? As my fingers devour your clinching soles, do you feel my heat? Do you feel as my cock surges? Do you feel the rippling waves as I cum deep inside you.
Claiming you for mine.
Not stopping. Constant pounding waist crashing fuck as my fingers are a whirlwind, your soles pressing into them.
Cum all over my cock again as I tickle your soles.
Now.
I promise I'll cum inside you again. Hot. Thick. Rich. Meant for you.
Three orgasms. Your pale skin flushed a hot pink, rivulets of sweat beading across and falling as your chest rose and fell. Your little nipples were painfully hard, straining, so stimulated from my ticklish affections. Catch your breath. Tangles of hair against the pillow. The blindfold over your eyes, still the only thing I let you wear.
You lick your lips. A moan. Loud and needy. Breath is important now. The sheets under your cheeks are soaked. Ruined. Your inner thighs undulate, hot cream laquering your **** and mound, wetness glistening across the rest. You can't see me. But you can feel me as I move, prowling, ready to strike again.
But where?
But how?
Your whine is followed by a helpless anxiety giggle and plea as I grab your ankle, bringing it as high upward as the under the bed restraints will allow. I open my mouth. My thumbs press into your arches. My lips wrap around your middle three toes. And I suck. Hard. Slowly, painstakingly pulling upward. My mouth, suckling, gripping with heavy suction as my lips skimmed up your toe stems, to the bulbs of your toes. Your nails against the roof of my mouth. And I let go. Only to start again. And then your pinkie toe. And then, without hesitation, your big toe. Like a lollipop. Bobbing it up and down over my lips. My tongue flicking against the bulb and base. Skim and suck up and down, and my eyes watch your pussy smolder and clinch helplessly.
"Your feet really are gorgeous." A flick of the nipple. Stifled harsh biting moan. And you say something, but I'm back to sucking on your big toe again. And then.
And then.
"I'm glad they're so ticklish."
My fingertips flutter. Not just over that sole, but your other as well. Dancing with my fingertips, with a light bite of my nails, focused right over the balls. Your tender, deviously ticklish balls. You try to move And fight away, but I follow each limited pull you muster. Always following. Always tickling.
Your laughter makes my cock pulse and quake.
It always has.
How long can I stay down here playfully tickling Your feet? For a long time. But after eight minutes, nonstop of varied light and playful and predatory tickles, you feel my fingers pinch your nipples and pull up.
"Time to get your cum again..."
My fingers press against your mound, spreading your dripping lips open, exposing your clit. I've already tickled down here, but, remember, you always wished for me to be more intimate here than you could ever possibly be. Picking up a fine tipped artist brush, I start swirling along the sides of your clit, then tickling over it, and then sweeping down the sides, over and over, watching, waiting.
The second your moans become beyond desperate, again...I stop.
I pinch your nipples. I pull them upward. And when I let go, I take that cum soaked brush and tickle the undersides of your swollen nipples.
And then my fingers spread you wide open again. And with frenetic intensity, I tickle and lap at your entire clit with the bristles of the brush.
And when you get close...
I stop.
And pinch your nipples again.
And tickle them again with the brush.
And then I spread your lips again, and it is the sharp tendrils of a fresh feather sawing over your clit. And over. And over. Desperate sounds come from you. It's all causing a surge within me. Laugh for me. Laugh with those dripping sexual moans. Feed me your want. Your need.
I deny. Again. But then I start sawing and battering with the feather. And deny. And tickle. And deny. Until it's so close. That any minute you might cum. Just one little thing.
I sink my cock deep inside you. Ankles unlatched. You cum across me. But the real question is, do you feel me? As my fingers devour your clinching soles, do you feel my heat? Do you feel as my cock surges? Do you feel the rippling waves as I cum deep inside you.
Claiming you for mine.
Not stopping. Constant pounding waist crashing fuck as my fingers are a whirlwind, your soles pressing into them.
Cum all over my cock again as I tickle your soles.
Now.
I promise I'll cum inside you again. Hot. Thick. Rich. Meant for you.
