Her warmth gets exponentially saturated as the minutes slip on by to his arrival. Mister was her day, night, and midnight weakness too. Somehow, this man, her man, the one guy that she let find her needle in his haystack on a late evening night of one Spring Day past twist of Fate, efficiently ripped a hole in her soul and boldly walked in without any anticipation of ever leaving her wants or needs unfulfilled. He made sure that he was going to stay inside of her DNA on a second-by-minute-by-hourly basis, always repeatedly making slow dips in and fast pull-outs on purpose. His gentlemanlike seductivity was cleverly smart with calculated control. Mister was dangerous with his tongue and touch, for he knew every fucking erogenous zones whereabouts with mental clarity. He breathed Miss in, then tasted her creame de pusse with an absolute purpose to swallow his Miss’s pleasure more than any person could ever be orally consumed. Mister did it on purpose, with purpose. He planned on stimulating her soul with Orgasm’s so powerfully evident, that she would stay intoxicated on his presence for eternity. He was talented perfect with conversation, flirtatiously bold with his confidence, and provocatively real with his intentions. Miss sipped on tart red-beer from another country while she opened her body and let him in. She let him inside of her, and she did it because she deserved to have her Mister at all fucking costs. No price was too much to pay for him to live in her house, stay in her bedroom, or consume her tangy liquid cum from her honey hole whenever she asked, demanded, or begged him too. Miss’s pleasure got immersed in his life’s honest reality, and that connection twist-tangoed them into a together dance for-fucking-ever!