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Devouring every drop I offer, deep inside me, his tongue seemingly glued to my cunt... detailing every last inch before kissing his way up my body, the touch of his lips is exquisite on my skin... on my abdomen and over my belly... taking his head between my hands... I gently tug to encourage him to slide up my body.... With my hands holding either side of his face, I gently begin to lick my juices from his skin... dragging my tongue across his lips... gently nibbling, then slide my tongue inside his warm mouth, our tongues begin to dance... Our kiss is deep and warm, his tongue circling mine, wrestling it deeply as he grinds against me, my sex still warm he can feel the my dampness against his skin... tasting him on my lips as I take him deeper, hands slipping all over his body. My back arches giving myself over to his touch... moving my hands over his strong arms and then across his back... moaning softly into his mouth, one hand slips between our skin, reaching down to. The power of your explosion was intense. Your load erupted and shot across your stomach. Panting, you sunk into your sofa, drifting into a hedonistic, dreamlike state. Just a moment of calm. A moment of tranquil peace. At first, you thought you were dreaming when you felt fingernails trail over your sensitive tip. But nevertheless, you jerked at the unexpected touch. You open your eyes to see your mother stroking your tender cock, looking down at you in disgrace. “What do we have here?” She whispered, swiping a finger over the still-warm cum on your stomach and popping it into her mouth. You watched as, with a pop, she pulled out her finger and started running the tip of her tongue up and down it. “I do hope you weren’t watching porn,” Her eyes flickered between your cum-covered chest and the laptop. “You know how I feel about porn!” In panic, you shook your head and begged for her forgiveness.Playing with your dick as she spoke, your Mother asked; “How sorry are you?” Clambering.
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“I came from there,” repeated Steven again pointing back northwest toward Zannopolis.“Steven,” said the merchant, “you don’t have to retrace every step if you journey back. There are many roads that lead to where you want to go.”“But there is only one by which I have come,” Steven said.“Ah. Yes,” agreed the merchant. He shrugged his shoulders and urged the horses on more quickly. As dusk was settling over the valley, they came to a small inn in a village almost as small as Steven’s. Here they secured their wagon and left the two guards with it while Steven and the Merchant ate dinner. Then the merchant called for wine and settled in his chair to address Steven with his story.ONCE UPON A TIME, in the youth of the world, there was a poor beggar named Feirou who lived in a tiny hovel in the shadow of a great palace. Each day the poor man would sit in the streets before the palace and beg for food. Some days he would receive a dry crust of bread or a bean, but other days he would return.

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