Ladies, you never know the power you have over a man until he’s devouring your pussy and doesn’t want to stop. I can’t fucking stop eating Gina Galloway. She has quickly become my greatest obsession. I tease, tickle, lick, suck, slurp, and devour every inch of her cunt. It’s the sweetest taste I’ve ever known.
I’d promised she’d say my name a thousand times tonight, and we’re just getting started.
With one hand, I caress my cock while my Bella’s endless contractions cause her pussy lips to suction at my jaw. My tongue spins along her clit, lengthening her orgasm to a new height.
I settle back on my haunches, just to watch her slick walls convulse. Though we have the rest of our lives, we’ll reminisce on the first time.
Gina’s legs stretch wide. My fingers thrum over the pretty brown curls atop her mound.
“Santino . . .”
“This is the most gorgeous pussy I have ever seen, Gina. So lush,” I murmur. I’m captivated. The lips and folds are the deepest shade of brown. I nudge my nose against her, breathing in the feminine scent that has grown in richness with my devotion. Invigorated by the perfume trailing in my nostrils, I jump to my feet, bringing this pussy to my face.
“San—Santino!” Gina hollers, legs swathing my head.
Beguiled, I look up from my addiction and lick the succulent elixir from my mouth.
“Don’t do th-that!” Fear parts the molten desire on her face.
“Oh . . . I’ll warn you next time, Bella.” Moments ago, my worship of Gina’s sex had caused me to forget a few things. I’ve fallen for a demanding woman who has no idea that what she asks for is in contradiction to what her body craves. She’s similar to some of the women at The Pipeline, big money clasped in both hands, who sit there, observing, no interaction. But my craving will unravel both of us. I knead her ass unapologetically.
“I’m not your personal lyre; this is not your marching band.”
Shut up, Gina.I blow softly on her clit. Her stammering causes my titanium erection to seep from the tip. The woman who held her own a moment ago concedes to visceral desire. I take possession of her body, drinking of her sweetness, hungry for her to give in. Gina’s hair drapes around her face as she looks down at me, watching my mouth slaughter her sex.
“Oh, my—Oh, my—Santinooo!”
Gina bucks, sacrificing more of her pussy to my greedy mouth as I walk her into my bedroom. I’m lapping up her juices when I bring her back down onto my waist.
She yelps. “You promised to warn . . .”
My mouth descends onto hers. The first touch is butterfly soft, leaving Gina reeling in confusion as to my intentions. I shut her up for good. She swirls her tongue around mine, moaning in the same addiction that’s captivated me.
Releasing her mouth, I moan against her lips. “You taste so good, Bella. I am going to taste you and fuck your pussy with my mouth until you break for me.”
“Yessss,” she groans.
Her heart pounds against my chest, thighs smooth around my waist. I trail kisses across the curve of her neck, flicking my tongue at the hollow of her throat. Still, my addiction calls, I’m on my knees again, but in one fluid motion, Gina’s on my shoulders. Up and down she goes. My mouth, her pussy, her mouth.
Gina’s next climax has her legs wrapped around my shoulders, and I taste all her creamy glory. Gina rocks her hips, a silent invitation for more. Again, I’ve got her leveraged around my waist, my mouth a fraction from her own.
“Gina, see how good you taste.”
Arms encircling the back of my neck, she thrusts her pussy down onto my jeans. Her honey’s wet enough to seep straight through. She’s just about ready again.
I lay Gina on the center of my bed. She looks up at me. Her face is a myriad of emotions, thrills, and wonder as my tongue takes another dive. Those walls had squeezed down on my tongue. I feel my cock swell, stretching my jeans at the thought of how she’ll choke my dick. First, I’ll stretch her just for me.
Gina
A couple of days later . . .
“‘Ihave toget this,’ he’d said. Shanda, I can’t believe it,” I snort. I’m seated on a barstool at a lush lounge around the corner of my best friend, Shanda’s brownstone. Though days have passed since I ghosted Santino, his fierce passion perplexes me even now. My entire world’s spinning off the axis.
I toss back a shot, letting the fire burn down my throat. I just need a few more drinks, then I’ll play myself into believing my heated flush is from the alcohol and not the play-by-play. Santino, his front door, and my body had a delicious entanglement.
“I was putty beneath Santino’s hands and loved every second of it until he groaned that he had to get his phone. Then he left the room. At the sound of the front door opening—”
“He didn’t just—”