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Midnight Feast
🕑 Added 2022-08-14 17:34:04 +0000 UTCDespite his minute size, Evain had always been aggressive in his pursuit of me. Pushy, even. Obnoxious at times, but nonetheless sickly charming.
Often, he roused me from sleep at night, with great hunger in his doll eyes, and he demanded to be fed. Lazily, I opened my legs for him, and he sank between them, and he showed me the great length of his slug tongue in the dim light; then, he lathered it over and through my folds, taking in the wet taste of my groin.
I petted his hair throughout. At a tug, he dared go deeper.
The slicked tip of his tongue teased at my entrance, and then it breached in, inch by oozing inch, until it filled me to the lock of my womb. There, Evain teased, he lapped and he drooled and he gulped like a starved beast, like a well-mannered boy-wife.
At another tug, he pressed inside, and began treating himself to the slickness within, the thirsty, thirsty thing, and I tensed and sighed and relished in the sensation of his lips on mine and the undulating motions of his tongue inside.
Always, he came when I did, though he had not been stroked or sucked, and mine own rapture was thus made longer, as it pleased me to imagine him a little filthy thing that wets itself with leaking white.
