“You wish I’d just spit on your pussy, don’t you?” He leans forward. “Do it yourself.” “I don’t need to, I’m already wet,” I offer. I let out a whimper when my fingers ghost over my clit again, my body still humming from my last orgasm. “For me then.” He licks his lips. “I want to see it.” “I’m a lady, I don’t spit.” I raise my nose in the air in mock horrification. He snorts and leans back again. “First of all, you do spit but that doesn’t mean you aren’t a lady. If I recall, you do all kinds of unladylike things in the bedroom with me. Or I’m sorry, maybe it’s considered ladylike to rim your
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