sweet cream

Heather's pussy looked too sweet for patience. Michael yanked her hips, buried his face between her thighs like a man starving. Her hips bucked up to meet his tongue. They moved hungry, messy. No gentle build-up, just raw need and skin slapping skin, like lovers locked away for years who finally snapped. She grabbed his hair, pulled him deeper. He growled into her, licked harder. Every second counted.