If I called you and instructed you to come to me now. I want to use that pretty mouth. That obedient tongue. I gave you my favorite mounting pillow—the one fluffed directly in the middle, leaving semi-filled sacks for my shins to rest on each side.
If I instructed you to wear your cock cage—the one that’s a bit too small, because it pleases me to see a fleshy bulge strain against the uncompromising material.
I don’t need to order you. You know your place. In the center. Your nose erect in a posture to ensure constant contact with my wet.
If I told you to lay still with your mouth closed so that I could pleasure myself with your face. Using every protrusion for my pleasure.
The robust nature of your lip, my very own whisper of pleasure. My downturned hips grind softly.
Your prominent nose a peak for me to savor. My nipples peek through latex.
The arch of submissive brows. A thrill to the folds of my body. I begin to feel a rise within me.
Sweet rain pours down your features. At the exact moment that I order you to open your mouth.
You know. You drink me in, slipping your strong tongue inside.
Would you cum?