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I wanted my tongue lodged up in her folds. I wanted to drink her inside me so I would be worthy again, to make her come until tomorrow morning, thrashing, screaming my name ripping my fingers in and out of her until she flooded like rapids. She could be my validation. When every bit of me was smeared with her come, sweat matting her curly-cues straight again, the pencil in her hair broken to the wayside, I would know I was someone.
She tempted me like liquid lava lapping at my feet, orgasmic, over and over, so close I could touch her, my hips bucking at the chance. I knew then I would pass her test as her creamy skin gyrated closer to my hungry, promise-holding lips. Her eyes were closed, unseeing to the man she deemed unworthy as her feet took one solid step towards my waiting erection and my mind begged for the chance to please her and start over.
A finger pulsating around her clit and her inner lips were thrust into my face. I was home free. Everything in me yearned to please as my tongue and teeth made swift work of her warm, real cunt meeting my face with swift gyrations of her hips. She yanked on the tie creating a tension in my neck that elevated the depth of my tongue in her cunt. She ground down on my face. My skin hummed with life. She was absolutely gorgeous as I watched her face contort from the slickness on my face. I grinned within her pussy at the freedom lacing through her cries of pleasure. Such a straight-laced office slut. My new mistress.