Viewing the local antiquities

There's a hairless patch 
under my balls I can't see, I discover as polytropic Annie licks them assiduously: A new item in her repertoire since the last time she received me:

I feel the slight tug of her tongue against hair and then a smooth lave, another tug coming as her head moves left to right right to left, the healthy pink of the part in her blonde hair, spilling, spilling over my thighs: ma blonde.

How pleasant to lie back, having pulled my thighs up, my feet gone wide, my anus fully exposed, trusting my balls to her lips and teeth.

I look down across my jelly belly: It quakes with my laughter: I looked down just as she looked up, calibrating me: we're doubly linked tongue-to-balls eye-to-eye

Yes. She's moving her head further down—another new item—



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