At the tender age of nineteen, Annie had a throat like a goddamned blackhole and she knew how to use it. All the discreet blowjobs performed in the woods at church camp had not exactly transformed her into a dick sucking, but what she lacked in skill, she made up for in raw enthusiasm and the sheer, undisguised delight she took in swallowing my cock.
Combine that with an extreme tolerance for discomfort—nay, a desire for it, so long as it was in service of serving me—and some long summer afternoons would disappear between her lips, as I told her to take my messing shaft in her mouth and to keep sucking until I told her to stop. She could entertain herself for hours like that, teasing me into hardness, gagging on me and allowing me to force her face down until her cute little upturned nose was buried in my pubic hair and the tears dribbled down her flushed cheeks, until I finally rewarded her with a grunt and a thick load of cum, and the cycle would begin anew.