I am ravenous for it. My right hand slowly strokes the c**k up and down as we revolve upon the mattress. It’s a torture of sorts but not one I envisaged dealing out as the Queen of Pain. It draws me in. My mouth wants it. My left hand is searching beneath me, like it has a mind of its own, gingerly locating the handle of the razor. I am grasping it, grasping him, my open lips getting ever closer. The jumble in my head blurs faster, threatening to take away all culpability. With my last reason I quickly toss the razor away to the side and sink my mouth down onto him. My moan of joy is as loud and brazen as any I have allowed myself. Hatches slide open all around. My lips stretch as I try to take him in further, my fingers with their painted black nails still grasping and pumping him.
Tort
