Sammy leans across and kisses the blue veins in her wrists. A pulse throbs where the leather thongs cut in. She moans. He kisses her lips, bites them lightly, tasting the blood from her mouth.
Moving down her throat, across her shoulders to the pungency of her armpits, he kisses, licks, nips. Her breasts harden beneath his hands, the nipples stiffening into peaks. He could spend hours like this, days, years, eternity.
‘Pussycat,’ he whispers into her navel.
Her belly rounds softly, sloping to the damp mound of her sex. He tastes her. She moans again. Breathing in her musk, tasting her salty-sweetness, he lingers, exploring the tender folds and hollows. Her legs are spread wide, her ankles tied to the bedposts. Her right foot twists and turns in its bindings, rotating like a creature trying to break free. He watches it squirm, sees the toes clench, then presses his face back into her groin, nuzzling – right thigh, left thigh, middle...
A mewling sound gurgles in her throat and he moves the gag back into place. No one must hear.
From:
DON'T LOOK DOWN for USA
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