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   Ingrid’s lips moved up and down on My shaft with such fragile want that it was amazing to watch. Her right hand was underneath her pussy with her right forefinger deep inside. The sound of her juices flowing matched the slurping suckles her mouth made on My Dick. I knew she was sucking Me off so she could feed but there was something more about this act of devotion, it was her way of getting off like she had grown up getting off. Ingrid stayed a virgin until she was married because she had an insatiable appetite for Dick and she never let that stop her. She didn’t let the boys play with her pussy, only she did that. She didn’t show the boys her naked body, she loved sucking Dick with her blouse opened up so hands could grope and molest her firm breasts while her heaving lungs offered them to the Man she was drinking from. Ingrid loved wearing lace bras with soft flowers embroidered on the cups and she loved how the hot cum looked against her nipples when the Man spewed inside them, she always aimed the throbbing Dick inside her cups so she could walk out into the daylight and hope no one could see the cum stained cups as her titties jiggled while she walked away happily.

   Ingrid’s right forefinger was soaking wet while she gorged on My Dick. It went deep, circled her slit then popped out with rapid motions so her pussy could feel the struggle her throat was undergoing as she took more and more down her greedy skull. The gagging made her mouth wetter, the gurgling sounds made her pussy flood. Ingrid loved hearing all her body’s sounds while she fed and her pussy kept up with each new moan. 

   The other customers in this darkly lit cafe would look around trying to see where these lewd noises were coming from. Underneath My table, with the tablecloth covering this hungry vessel who was harvesting My next load they didn’t see her kneeling, sucking, being such a slutty little girl. The girl in the table next to Mine stared at Me while she ate her salad, her nipples growing slowly under her tight sweater as she tried not to pry too hard, she wants to see My reaction, she knew what I was doing, she had that look of pride in her eyes as each bite of salad disappeared into lips which were licked by a very moist tongue with each swallow. The couple in the booth across the room got closer and their words became whispers as they both looked around with wide eyes hoping to catch a glimpse of the actions the sounds made them aware of. When pussy gurgles, girls know what the reason is. The waiter passed by and asked if there was anything else I needed, and asked if My guest was feeling bad as he didn’t see her leave the restaurant and she was, apparently, nowhere to be seen. I had him remove her plate as she took all My Dick in her throat and kept it held in place for the longest seconds ever, and as he walked away she released her jaw’s grip on My Dick and moaned even louder, so loud the waiter turned around looking for the lips which made such a delicious sound.

   While I sipped the coffee, Ingrid sucked like a demon possessed with the need to cum. While I arched back and reached under the table, Ingrid’s finger was going at a pace which made her heart race and made her lungs expand and contract in an almost insane race to drink the load her mouth made brew while her tongue made ready. My right hand held her head down in place as the semen traveled through My shaft, and into her moaning lips. The first spurt was welcomed into her mouth, she likes how My semen tastes, the second spew went into her right bra cup where the nipple licked it with delight. Then she aimed My Dick at her left bra cup and the last flowing stream of hot seed painted her nipple and it made her mouth utter the most vile, “oh my God” ever. The girl drank My shaft until the last of all seed boiling in the balls her left hand caressed was gone. Ingrid licked, she murmur, she purred and then she came.

   The puddle underneath the table was getting bigger, the waiter would have to get a mop after we left.

   As Ingrid’s mouth slowed its pace I called her mom, Lindsay. I told Ingrid’s mom, “your little girl did such a good job today, she’s a lot like you. I am glad you shared her. I’ll make sure you’ll both be used later tonight after I beat your wimp of a male into the corner. Make sure dinner is ready.”.

   The girl who had finished her salad just before Ingrid started to earn her reward hadn’t come out of the ladies room for the past ten minutes. I wanted to make sure fine. To make sure, I sent Ingrid in to check on her.

Sir

http://sinsofasouthernbelle.blogspot.com

   Do you like the way the words I allow breath makes your skin feel while you linger inside their siren’s call? Not everyone can sin as you do now. Not everyone is blessed enough to live the rapture the words I give you. Not every sinner has such a deep need to crawl to more perverse thoughts and passions that make the modest shudder. It seems, however, that you are that kind of wanton soul. Lost beyond recognition and you like it. Its a rush you get off on. Being such a naughty person, being better than others because you can savor the very nature of the debauchery inside a wicked mind let go free. The cement that keeps your eyes rolling across the page I illuminate seek the dirty, the horrid, the filthy in one and all, that cement is in the telling.

   The wonder of what I do isn’t making you feel new things, its having you share secrets. To get off knowing you’re so special you can be entertained by another’s deeds lewd and luxurious. To simmer in the stew of lust I make in a kitchen too hot for you to survive. 

   Wipe the drool off your chin, you’re disgusting.

   I can make you stop breathing with a symphony of well chosen letters formed in perfect harmony with a depraved action. Did you like thrill rides as a child? Did you get off watching your parents undress, learning about what grew and what made it feel so good? You’re so nasty. 

   And I like it. I feed off your depraved mind. I grow with each orgasm you spill in honor of these well chosen letters formed in perfect harmony with a depraved action. I like making you jump when I feel like it. I like being in control of that which makes you soil yourself. I like knowing that I own your focus and until I let you go no one else in the world can make you howl the way I do.

   Power. Its such a delicious word, isn’t it. But power is only as good as the way one manipulates reality for the good of the subjects who grovel for each new and twisted word. It is good to be the king.

   It is much better to be your trigger.  

   Sleep tight… someone’s watching you.

Sir

http://sinsofasouthernbelle.blogspot.com

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