Page 237 of Wrong Pucking Jersey

My tongue sinks between those folds and right into her quivering inner walls, which squeeze and pulse around my tongue as it moves in and out.

“Wolfgang,” Mishka moans before her fingers entwine in my hair and she further presses me between her spread legs. “Fuck. More. More, more, more,” she begs. “Fuck. I’ve wanted you all fucking night.”

Me? All night. Why? I didn’t do anything special.

I can’t spiral through the negativity now because I want to make Mishka cum. Make her whimper and wiggle until she’s crying out of ecstasy.

From my mouth. No one else’s.

“Wolfgang. Yes. Oh fuck yes,” she moans and grinds against my mouth, encouraging me to move even deeper into her as I lift her hips just slightly. “Yes. There! Fuck!”

My tongue is going at the perfect rhythm, the deep strokes helping to create that anticipated build I know my Mishka is riding. She’ll orgasm soon. I just know it, which is why I begin to quicken the pace while my grip on her thighs only furthers so my nails dig into her flesh.

She loves the pinches of pain.

Maddox talks about it once in a while when he’s far too drunk for his own good.

I’d always idolized the idea, but actually fulfilling it makes me want to see what it’s like to slap her ass.

Or have my hand around her throat as I fuck her deeply.

I can’t wait to have my cock inside her, but I need her nice and wet for me.

“Shit… Wolfgang… ah… slow down,” she pleads, but I bet deep down she knows better.

Knows I want to make her cum all over my face.

“Oh… fucking… God… ah… ah!”

She’s close.

So fucking close.

Her body grows stiff, and her moans are loud in the echoed space. Her breaths are out of control, and I know with a few short thrusts of my tongue, she’ll cum.

Gripping her thighs a tad harder, I listen to her cry out as her hips lift.

“Wolfgang!”

I brace for the flow of cum that flows into my mouth and don’t hesitate to lick her up desperately. Her sweet taste makes me groan. I’ve dreamed of this for years.

Fucking years.

She’s shuddering while catching her breath. I take one long, enjoyable stroke of my tongue along her folds before leaning back to show her juices that cloak my lips.

Her eyes are wide and wild with desire, making me further grin before I’m up and kissing her. I want her to taste how good she is on my lips.

On my tongue.

My hands fumble with my zipper, getting that metal clip and bringing it down so I’m one step closer to releasing my cock from my boxers. By the time it plops out, I’m experiencing the wave of relief, but I’m onto the next sensation I’m chasing.

The desperate need to be inside Mishka.

“God, I’ve imagined being inside you, Mishka,” I moan into her mouth and kiss her brutally. I rub my cock between her folds, my cock so hard, it fucking hurts.

“Can I be inside you, Mishka? Please?” I don’t care if I have to go down on my knees and beg for her divine pussy. I’ll do it if it gets me what I’ve yearned for all these years.

“Only if we talk after,” she pants and presses a hand against my cheek. “Promise me, we’ll talk.”

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