Did I say that I ‘thirsted’ for her freshly fucked cunt?
No, That’s not right.
I fucking CRAVED it.
No sooner than the words “What’s next” flicked off of her tongue, I had dropped down to my knees at the bedside and began to devour her. I was no stranger to going down on her. In fact, it was an act that most times I preferred over sex. There was something about tasting her most intimate areas and pleasuring her in the same stroke that just satisfied me to no end.
As soon as my mouth came down on her puffy red lips and my tongue slithered into her wet soft slit, I felt my hips buck forward trying to find any type of friction against my stiff erection. None was found, leaving me unsatisfied and wanting more.
I could taste him.
Here pussy tasted like her……but there was something else. Something foreign. It was subtle but it was there. This was the taste of man. I could taste the salt and sweat from his cock, along with the pungent taste of his precum that had no doubt seeped out while my wife was edging him to orgasm.