Burning with anticipation, Sherri craved the hot kisses from Maggie, her lover. A treasure accompanied each kiss.
The first kiss, followed with a morsel of chocolate, was the sweetest.
The kiss to her inner-thigh, then an ice-cube, was exchanged for a moan.
The kiss under her nipple, making her wail like a banshee, was massaged deep into her flesh.
Number ninety-nine, didn’t touch; it cracked one-centimeter from her exposed clit. Her passionate cry was piercing.
Maggie, dropping her whip, lowered her long snaking tongue, for the final wet kiss.
The kiss of the whip? Delightful.
Maggie’s tongue? Heaven.
Orgasm? Earth-quaking!
