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“No baby, God ain’t the one fucking you with a champagne bottle, your beast is,” I say roughly.
“Yes,” she hisses, falling back onto the bed, her nipples hardening into points as she spreads her legs wider and squeezes her breasts. “Oh fuck, that’s good. That’s so fucking good.”
“Touch yourself for me,” I demand, removing my fingers from her clit and grabbing my aching dick. It throbs in my hand. I’m already on the edge, close to coming. So fucking close.
She nods, sliding her hand over her stomach and reaching for her engorged nub, rubbing tight little circles there, panting for me, losing herself to sensation as she pleasures herself and I gently fuck her with the champagne bottle.
“I’m so close,” she cries, her finger moving faster over her clit as she nears the precipice.
“Come for me. Do it now!” I demand, gently sliding the bottle inside and twisting it inside of her, knowing the ridged lip of the bottle will massage her g-spot just right.
“Fuck, Beast,” she exclaims, her heels digging into the bed, her head tipping back as she comes for a third time, screamingmymotherfucking name as my cum spurts in thready ropes all over her belly and thighs.
