I know what she’s thinking. These will never fit in my mouth.
And maybe that’s true, but trying is half the fun.
“Do it,” I say, my voice raw and rough as I fist her hair, knocking her sparkling tiara off to the side of her head a little.
She nods her head, eyes locked on mine, and whispers, “OK,” as she opens her mouth and leans forward.
There is no way she can take all of me at once without help. But I don’t mind helping. One hand releases her hair and I pull the corner of her mouth to the side, stretching her cheek as I move my hips forward. She gets one inside her mouth and the way she presses her tongue flat along the top of my shaft almost drives me insane.
But I focus. I want this. I don’t know why I need to make her do dirty things to me, but I do.
I push along the side of my cock as I pull her cheek aside, forcing it to fit snug against my other one. And then it’s inside her. Just barely, but oh, fuck. The sensation this little bit elicits is beyond amazing.
Groans and loud moans escape my lips as I take it one step further and thrust my hips forward with force.
She gags as one of my cocks slips deeper into her throat and the other, pressed up just behind it, blocks her airway.
Her eyes begin to water as she stares up at me and sweet streaks of pink tears pool until they overflow her lower lids and spill over the side. They take some black mascara with them as they fall down her cheeks. Streaks of watered-down gray that glow pink.
“That’s it,” I say, encouraging her.
She breathes through her nose. Eyes still locked on mine. And I take a mental picture of this moment. Her face, her eyes, her pink, her disheveled hair and crooked tiara. Her mouth stretched wide with my fat cocks shoved between her lips.
I pull her back and she gasps for air. Fingertips hastily wiping away the spit that runs down her chin.
“Come here,” I say. Remembering the way I said that to her last night. Beckoning her from across the bed and the empty space between us.
What a world away from how I say it now.
She stands, her breasts heaving with heavy, deep inhales of breath. Up and down, quick and fast.
“I want you naked,” I say.
She nods her head and immediately her fingers go to the high buttons of her collar.
Instantly she realizes she cannot take the dress off without my permission. Because I have to remove the collar to remove the dress.
I do not want to remove that collar.
I have this irrational fear that if it ever comes off she will flee. She will run away from me as fast as she can.
So even though this is a very nice dress and it should be respected if only for the event it was made for, I don’t care.
I reach for the middle seam and rip it open with one quick tug.
Black crystal buttons go flying across the room. Scattering and sliding along the obsidian floors. And underneath the deceptive black fabric is a sweet, sweet surprise.
My brute force is rewarded with a pink bra covered in white crystals.
She glows as she watches me take it all in. Not a lot. Just a little hint of light that catches the thousands of tiny gems and makes her sparkle.
“Oh, princess, you’re going to kill me,” I say, pulling on the edges of her ripped bodice even more. Tearing her dress off until the top half lies flat in tatters over her hips and the only thing left is the sleeves, gripping tightly to the flesh of her arms.
I take her hand, kiss her knuckles gently, then pull the sleeve down one arm until it’s fully removed. I toss that carelessly to the floor and repeat. Taking her other hand. Kissing all her remaining knuckles, then pulling the sleeve down until both arms are bare.
Taking a step back, I look at her.
She is glowing much brighter now. Much brighter.
Her tits are contained in the sparkling bra cups, just begging me to rip that off and bare them as well.
But no. No. I need to see her in this sweet lingerie. I want to see her pink body pressed up against the dark gunmetal-gray magnetic wall. I want to keep her prisoner against my wall and do dirty, nasty things to her to make her explode.
Unable to control myself another second, I reach for the waist of her skirts and rip them open, exposing her legs.
And oh, God. I’m dead. I’m fucking dead when I realize she’s wearing stockings and garters, but no underwear.
“Oh, princess,” I moan. “What have you done?”
She lights up bright pink as she blushes. “Do you like it?”