Maisie
"You," I said to them. "I always dream about you."
Soren leaned back in the chair, waiting, but drunk as I was on the pheromones in the air, I couldn't bring myself to speak the atrocious words. Understanding that that was all I would ever give them, Soren relented.
He pulled his own cock free, the movement managing to still be graceful for something so filthy, and my mouth and insides watered at the sight of him, curved slightly toward his belly.
His head rested back against the chair. "Two fingers," he rasped. "Push them inside. Let us see you fuck yourself." He wrapped his hand around himself and squeezed. "Please, love."
I slid two fingers into my entrance.
The sound that escaped my throat wasn't quite moan. It was wetter than that. Needier. My inner walls gripped my fingers greedily, so slick that my fingers moved easily, squelching as I pumped them deeper.
