“Ah, that’s it, sweetie,” Mamacita crooned. “Savor my boy. He’s yours now.”
She fed off the sensory experience of a mouthful of Harry. Her p***y grew hot and began to throb. Her n*****s stung as they hardened. She had captured him in her mouth, trapped him between her taut lips. She suddenly felt very different, somehow elevated above her station and she relished her control and freedom. Her head grew light. Her chocha was wet, eager, and anxious. She wanted Senor Harry, more she suddenly realized than she had ever wanted Armando.
Mamacita’s voice came through as soft and distant. “Imagine you are on the stage, Luz. You are in charge. You control the scene. Senor Harry is your slave. I want you to set the pace, completely control him. You decide when you are going to let Senor Harry come
