“Don’t move, pumpkin”, I say to you.
You know exactly what I mean when I say these words.
You know that face-hole feels pretty damn perfect right now and Daddy needs to fuck it like it nice and hard. I say “face-hole”, because in the mood I am in right now, saying “mouth” feels too nice.
Nope. I want your slobber dropping down to your tits, running down your chest, across your stomach, and eventually onto the floor.
I want tears. I want sweet, happy tears you are so proud to show me from the excessive gagging that is making you well up to the point your mascara is going to run down your cheeks.
Loud. It needs to be audible or I make push deeper into your throat. Gag for me and when you do, I want to hear it.
Drool for me like a good girl would. That’s it, just like that.
I’m so proud of you.