pocket campfire

“I’ve thought about sucking your dick and fucking you every day. We don’t have much time.” She dropped to her knees and swallowed my dick, sucking furiously. I grabbed her hair and held her head, thrusting my cock into the back of her throat. “Gaa! Gaa! Gaa!” she tried to be quiet but she gagged each time my dick hit her throat. She pulled off. “Don’t muss my hair too much. My boss will know I fucked you back here.” She put her head on my cock and resumed sucking, slower and more deliberate this time. Saliva dripped from her mouth onto my balls. My cock was turning red as her lipstick rubbed off onto my shaft. Fucking hot. She stopped again. She lifted my cock and sucked one of my balls into her mouth. That was new. And pushed me over the edge.

“Well, like you said, hit hard, fast, and unorthodox. Enjoying your view from down in the dust with the rest of us?”“It’s just not a proper sport if I can’t smell the blood.”

She swallowed in preparation and stuck her tongue out and touched it against his sack. Much like the coffee she had this morning, the taste was as strong as the smell, though she would drink this flavour every morning if she could. Salty, smoky, and musky like her dad. She poked her tongue out again and gave it a slightly longer lick on the left nut, and then a longer one on the right. It didn’t take long until she was fondling her father’s balls with her whole tongue. Bathing them in her saliva. Lifting one ball up and down with tongue, she caressed underneath and pulled it closer to her mouth. With how hot her breath and drool were, the skin had softened even more, and she was able to bring one of his balls into her mouth. Her lips clamped down around it, not willing to let it escape. Her tongue swirled around her captive, and she sucked on his nut like a lollipop.