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Brad Newman, Anna Blaze Pic(s)
Her full, moon-pale breasts swayed with a languid gravity as she knelt before him, their soft weight a promise of the heat pooling low in her belly. The air grew thick with the scent of her skin and his own musk, a heady perfume that made her mouth water with a longing so acute it was almost a physical ache. She traced the hard line of his thigh with a single, deliberate fingertip, feeling the tremor that ran through him like a current beneath his skin. When her lips finally brushed the sensitive tip of his arousal, a gasp escaped her, a sound of pure, unguarded wonder at the taste of his desire on her tongue. Her hands cradled the heavy, velvet-soft weight of him, guiding him deeper into the warm, wet sanctuary of her mouth with a reverence that bordered on worship. With each slow, rhythmic pull, she felt his pleasure ripple through her own body, a shared current of passion that made her core clench with a desperate, answering heat. She released him with a slick, obscene pop, only to press her generous breasts together around his rigid length, the slick glide of her skin against his a decadent, slippery friction. Her gaze locked on his, dark and hungry, as she moved with a slow, rolling rhythm, her nipples pebbled and aching against his shaft, a symphony of softness and steel. The taste of his pre-cum, salty and vital, mingled with the sweat on her upper lip as she took him back into her mouth, her throat working to welcome the full, pulsating length of him. In the final, shuddering moment, she felt his release flood her mouth, a hot, silken tide that she swallowed with a deep, primal satisfaction, the connection between them a single, blinding thread of shared pleasure.
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