As expected, he was a great kisser, evidently practiced at treading the fine line between soft and passionate–gentle and animalistic. I could feel my pussy throbbing despite my moderately recent orgasm. He tasted as good as imagined…a blend of tobacco and weed, with a dash of whatever organic chemical compound that made me want him for so long. I couldn’t help but wonder if his cock tasted as sweet.
He broke away from the kissing and I sighed in slight disappointment.
“I don’t want you to feel like this is a requisite for the job…I’m a man. I can accept rejection.”
I laughed again and kissed him before letting my lips graze his ear: “I’ve dreamt of this moment many times.”
He didn’t need to hear anything more than that. He exhaled deeply, kissing my neck, working his way down to my collarbone and up the other side. I shivered and he grinned.
Fuck. Yes.