Pretty Pleaser

Katalina drops to her hands and knees. The colored lace clings tight, every bright thread standing out against her skin. Her eyes lock on Mick’s face and stay there while she takes him. Slow at first—wet lips, tongue pushing flat—then she sinks all the way, nose pressed flat to his skin. Her throat clamps and convulses, gagging wet and hard. She holds it. Spit slips down his length and drips off his balls in long threads. Mick’s fingers knot in her hair and she gives him control, letting him pull her head deeper, thrust past the resistance until she shudders from the stretch. The moment she breaks, she chokes, coughs, suckles breath back in, then slides back onto him even harder, forcing her own gag reflex over and over, throat squeezing like a fist. Every slide leaves a louder sound than the last, filthy and raw.