Lea 1844-332-2639 Ext. 244
Smoke fills my lungs as I inhale deeply, and my chin tips up toward the ceiling. Ahh, I love the burn trickling down my throat where it stretches out in my chest. The loser under my ass slaps at my mammoth thighs in an attempt to tap out. That’s not how this works. There is no tapping out. There is only taking what I give him. I stay balanced over him for a moment longer, his sweaty palm getting desperate the longer I wait. When I lift my ass, he chokes and tries to sit up. Gasping for a gulp of air, I’d been denying him, but instead of allowing him to suck in that deliciously needed fresh air, I gripped his chin and pressed our mouths together. Blowing the used cigar smoke into his desperate lungs.
