Viewing the local antiquities

Prix fixe 

"Will you suck my balls?"

"Of course. If I were a guy I'd probably want my balls sucked."


I'd put a pillow under my ass so she didn't have to dig her chin into mattress to tongue me.

Relaxing my thighs, I let my balls sink down against her active tongue, rough sweetness tugging the loose skin under my sack.

"Can you take them into your mouth?"

"If I'm soapy..."

"You taste fine."

Square-jawed Jasmine continues to lap: Almost scratchy, a cat's tongue. Each swipe feels like a tang or a twinge or a shiver or sting. She takes the tuft of hair that dangles from my balls between her lips and tugs it: My balls shift in my sack as she presses and mouths them.

She slurps. Wet. What she would want.

"Let's not lose our friend."

She tries to harden me by jerking me off, but the condom falls off:

"I always carrry a spare"


"Don't worry."

Again, squatting, she puts me back up her: Squat squat thwack thwack thwack thwack—

She cuts out the agency by leaving her card.



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All characters and situations fictional. Copyright (c) 2003-2007 by "John Psmyth."
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