My hunger boiling in my veins. Effortlessly my head lowers to him manhood, my pulse racing as the musk scent of him wafts to my nose. A glancing look ...pward to his glazed eyes. He knows what I will do, he anticipates my actions…as he sucks his bottom lip in. Softly pressing my lips to the swollen head, feeling the hardness with them. My lips slicking with his precum that oozes from his cock eye. My lips gliding around the head…. my lips parting to take him into my mouth but just to the ridge of. ” The voice was a low whisper. It could have been anyone’s: Kevin’s, Clint Eastwood’s, someone with laryngitis. His hands kneaded her tired shoulders, gently massaged her stiffness and aches. It felt good. She wanted to turn around and see what he was up to. But his hands were soothing, calming. She had work to do….but she gave into the moment and closed her eyes. She felt the tension slowly drain from her tired muscles, her stiff neck. She let her head droop and sighed:. More

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