I love how salty it tastes, the heady aroma of his masculinity.
“You like kissing the tip, don’t you?” he grinned down at me. “You know what the tip likes to kiss, baby?”
I locked eyes with him, trying desperately not to gag as he moved deeper into me.
“Your tonsils,” he goaned happily as I began to sputter, “They’re meant to be together. Open that throat so they can make-out all afternoon long.”
What’s more romantic than a night of bbc and tonsil action?
Yeah, that got me hard
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