06
Nov
09

can we all agree that we don’t have to take responsibility for weird mental fantasy-tangents?

She peels back his boxer briefs and his cock springs toward his face. She cups the head in her palm and licks broad stripes up the shaft until it glistens with saliva. He pushes his hips up toward her mouth and she rests the tip of his cock against her pursed lips, like she is kissing it.

He shifts his pelvis up further, but she presses against his cock, lips shut. Then, in one fluid jolt, she pulls her throat over his cock, her lips grazing his pubic hair, his cock disappearing utterly into her face. She looks — he thinks — like a a space alien disguised as a hot chick in a teen comedy, misunderstanding how earthlings eat popsicles.

He is snapped out of his reverie by a heavy electric thrum in his balls, and he cums into her throat with persistent violence.

“Jesus,” she says afterwards, chewing her lip, “Why’d you cum so fast?”

“I was thinking of you,” he says, looking up at the corner of the ceiling.


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