“Hold it back, you c*m-eater!” she gasped between slobbering smacks. “Hold it back! Don’t you dare squirt! Do you hear me?”
“Yes, Mistress!” whimpered Brad miserably, his every nerve ending aflame. “Of course, Mistress!”
“You should be the one eating c*m, not me!” the girl hissed. Furiously she swirled her commanding mouth about his poor agonized cockhead. “Shouldn’t you?” she demanded. “Shouldn’t you?”
“Of course, Mistress!” gasped Brad. He licked his lips, thinking quickly. “Gallons of it, Mistress,” he agreed dirtily, exciting himself even as he tried to placate her anger. “Thick, sloshing gallons…”
Alyssa’s heavy raven hair flailed with her energetic movements. “Oh, you will,” she chuckled between knob-gobbling slurps. “You will!”
“Thank you, Mistress!” gulped Brad automatically.
