WESSEX
the wraith
she tied you to her kitchen chair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
she broke your throne and she cut your hair
Yes, yes, yes, she thought it was going to be that easy. Is the normally pessimistic demigod a fool for thinking so? “Maybe…” she hisses, in what is an unusually vulnerable admission, before shifting away from his tongue.
And now she is back in control, now she can hold him at bay, or let him in, inch by inch. Now to she can drive them both towards ecstasy or let them linger intortuous limbo, getting close to the crest time and time again. Enough to make them both squirm - or moan, or elicit any other slew of curse words.
Like many women, the dual action is what Wessex needs as she leans forward and finds an angle that has his cock hitting a little something extra inside her. She presses into his chest, laying a hand on his sternum to gain a little more traction as her hips roll back and forth, sliding easily along his shaft. And her other fingers work furiously again, wedged in the space between them, finding a way to draw the pleasure out of her and into little micro-pants of feel-good sounds.
Feeling the precipice nearing, Wessex’s head falls back and her eyes close as she babbles, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” and finds everything in her head narrowing to this and how she feels right now.
Nothing else exists.
And now she is back in control, now she can hold him at bay, or let him in, inch by inch. Now to she can drive them both towards ecstasy or let them linger intortuous limbo, getting close to the crest time and time again. Enough to make them both squirm - or moan, or elicit any other slew of curse words.
Like many women, the dual action is what Wessex needs as she leans forward and finds an angle that has his cock hitting a little something extra inside her. She presses into his chest, laying a hand on his sternum to gain a little more traction as her hips roll back and forth, sliding easily along his shaft. And her other fingers work furiously again, wedged in the space between them, finding a way to draw the pleasure out of her and into little micro-pants of feel-good sounds.
Feeling the precipice nearing, Wessex’s head falls back and her eyes close as she babbles, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop,” and finds everything in her head narrowing to this and how she feels right now.
Nothing else exists.
and from your lips she drew
the hallelujah
the hallelujah
