Great amateur lesbian show
On his next pass down, he used his fingertips. Then just two fingers.
My tears had dried up by then, but they threatened to return at just the sight of my boyfriend. And as much as I wanted to run to him, I couldn't move from my spot.
His tongue echoed the motions above.
Or ran from them.
Yes, I had a confirmed good-ole case of the winter cold that just would not go away. I'd started sniffling and coughing almost two weeks ago after my thirtieth birthday celebration (which had consisted of just the two of us, a bottle of chocolate sauce, a container of whipped topping, my little toy box, and the kitchen island).