Warmth… Saccharine on my tongue. Don’t move. I can feel it’s getting good, you’re about to cum.
Hold it. A thousand licks wrapped up in one. Butterfly wings I’ll make my tongue flick up and down. 24, 25, 26… I am going to make you cum.
Squirm. Shimmy. Wiggle. Twist, but I won’t move. Concentration so deep. 27, 28…
I can feel you cum.
2014. All words owned by La Drama Princess/Shanna Hughey and all other names you know her by. Read the full copyright disclosure at the bottom of the main blog page.
My hands grip my slick knees.
With your heavy palm you push my back into a hump down lower to the floor.
I press my toes into the rug.
The hot wax runs down the crease from the top of my lower spine deep into the crack…
All the way into the tight, curvy crease of my wet, sweet, thick, puddling, creamy, snatch…
And when it touches the tip, my clit is pricked enough by the hot wax, my clit so glazed too, my hips automatically sway from left to right.
Do it again.
Make me cum.
All words on this blog are owned by La Drama Princess unless otherwise quoted and credited. Thank you. Be original. Respect my work and use your own brain. It can be invigorating. Full copyright and crediting notices listed in the bottom bar of this blog.
Upon his last stroke on top of me, he looked into my eyes and said, “girl.. you got a firm grip”.
He bit his bottom lip, and there was his blast, deep, deep, in the slick.
–Inspired by Eric Roberson “Couldn’t Hear Me Over The Music (Live)”
No picture needed.
Welcome to this new series, for my fans.
Copyright notices below on the blog. 8-21-2014
Opening my eyes to let a crack of the low morning sun burn at the back of them, as I’m lying on my side, I rub my thighs together and throw one of my legs over his. Instincts always kick in when I find myself waking up next to him. My fingerprints graze the thatch of wiry hairs pressed against his belly. The tip of my middle finger, I use it to sneak to the edge of the valley of his belly button.
His breathing becomes audible just once. I know he’s awakening too.
As I touch him faster along the invisible line made by the creek of water that washes over him every time he bathes, his legs stir under mine. I think about wetting my fingertips with my spit, but my trip down to where I so hungrily rush to touch isn’t long enough to break the trance of pleasure I know I’m seducing him into.
The head is coming up in a few millimeters.
My fingers finally touch down. Over the open seam I make my fingers as soft as gentle cotton using my mind’s morphing power I know I must truly have, because he sighs a sleepy, sexy groan.
As I tiptoe my fingers down the hill of the back of his cock, I know it’s smooth, moist traveling then on. He’s getting wet already and I have yet to apply my soft, thick, inner mouth’s lips on him.
I open for a kiss, then a trembling lick.
Oh, how I love his hard cock in the morning.