Marella’s hips thrust up against his chin, against his mouth, her hands pushing hard on his head, her nails painfully digging into the sensitive ski... on his scalp as she desperately struggles for more contact, struggles for the release she needs. Finally, sensing his moment, feeling her stomach muscles relax for a second, John moves his mouth that final important inch and his warm wet mouth covers her pussy. John’s tongue enters Marella’s pussy with darting and probing strokes, light and fast,. “Relax,” he said. “Don’t try to help, just let it happen.” And so saying, he slowly nudged the tip of his oiled cock past the outer muscles. The olive oil was slick, but thin enough that I could feel every contour of his helmet as it slipped in, so that I knew when the coronal edge was past the closure. “Okay,” he said, “now comes the part that feels a little strange at first. Just stay relaxed and go with it.” With that, Marty slowly pushed the rest of his girth into my bowels, until he was up. More

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