flora
Listen, in Flora's mind, if she hadn't positioned the captain precisely where she wanted him, given the impudent way he'd evaded the snapping of her teeth, she was fairly certain he'd have done everything in his power to stay out of her reach just to prove a point.
Jack's praise has Flora more than willing to stifle whatever gag reflex was trying to hinder her efforts, and though he still wasn't touching her, he'd managed to coax to life lines of fire that seared their way from between her thighs and up into her belly. Humming her own approval against his cock—insert that micropenis joke here—Flora uses the couch to her advantage by having it support the back of her neck as she tilted her chin even higher, the angle allowing her to take in even more of him than she'd otherwise be able to accomplish.
Amidst the swirling of her tongue against his cock, Flora tries to increase the difficulty for the captain by imagining his body blanketing her own, the shape of the couch allowing him to pick a punishing pace that allowed his cock to sink just as deeply into her as it currently was allowing her to do to him. She imagines one of his hands pressing against her throat, her head forced into the swell of the couch, not bound there by any physical means, but captured because of the shape and the body over hers pinning her to it.
Jack's praise has Flora more than willing to stifle whatever gag reflex was trying to hinder her efforts, and though he still wasn't touching her, he'd managed to coax to life lines of fire that seared their way from between her thighs and up into her belly. Humming her own approval against his cock—insert that micropenis joke here—Flora uses the couch to her advantage by having it support the back of her neck as she tilted her chin even higher, the angle allowing her to take in even more of him than she'd otherwise be able to accomplish.
Amidst the swirling of her tongue against his cock, Flora tries to increase the difficulty for the captain by imagining his body blanketing her own, the shape of the couch allowing him to pick a punishing pace that allowed his cock to sink just as deeply into her as it currently was allowing her to do to him. She imagines one of his hands pressing against her throat, her head forced into the swell of the couch, not bound there by any physical means, but captured because of the shape and the body over hers pinning her to it.
i scream for whatever it's worth
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
"i love you" ain't that the worst thing you've ever heard?
