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And when I can hardly take it anymore, I grab his head, gripping his hair, bucking my hips up to get as close as I can. Closer.
He snarls like an animal. Consuming me. As eager for my release as I am.
And when he reinserts his finger into my channel, I fucking lose it.
My back arches as I explode against his face, spiraling wilder and wilder out of control, screaming so hard my lungs ache.
And just when I think I’m spent. That he’s spent.
He rips me off the chair, turns me, and bends me over the seat.
I’m confused. My cheek is pressed to the seat. My breasts hang unsupported.
I hate that he can see my ass. I hate that I can’t see him. I hate that my tits are so damn sloppy.
“That’s it. You’ve gone and done it now,” he rasps, thick with malice. “You’ve awakened the monster.”
