Annie stood silently in the doorway watching. Smiling. A towel wrapped around her freshly washed dirty blonde hair. Another wrapped around her alluring, sensual curves.
Skin still warm from her just completed shower. Glistening. Silky soft. Enticingly feminine scents of jasmine and vanilla.
She didnāt consider herself a mean person. Really she didnāt. Still, there was something so exciting about seeing her boyfriend suffering in such desperate, sexual distress that she was beginning to wonder if maybe she was developing a problem.
An obsession.
An addiction.
Was she allowing herself to get carried away? Indulging this recent fascination of hers a bit too much?
Her desire to leave his erections unrelieved? To arouse him to feverish levels only to leave him frustrated? Desperate? Aching?
All while using him as she pleased to give herself the most explosive orgasms sheād ever enjoyed? To fuel the most unimaginably exciting, satisfying sexual era of her life??
And all at the expense of her sweet, adoring boyfriend who admittedly now sometimes seemed to be teetering on the brink of a meltdown?
At the moment he was still cuffed to her headboard, exactly where sheād left him earlier after riding his face to orgasmā¦ after orgasmā¦ after orgasmā¦.
Breathless. Dizzy. Writhing. His face dripping with her dewy nectar. Senses overwhelmed by her scent. Her heat. Her taste. And his hips desperately searching for something that might at least offer his helpless cock the mercy of a caress.
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