She moves with the single-minded focus of someone who knows exactly what she wants. Four petite frames kneel around her, each of them young and earnest, their hands already reaching, hungry. She calls herself Cytheria, a name that slips off the tongue like expensive silk, and everything else falls away when her gaze finds you. Later you’ll wonder how the hour passed so quickly. One boy sucks her cock with a kind of reverent clumsiness, cheeks hollowing, drool glistening at the corner of his mouth. She rests her palm on his head, fingers threading gently through his hair, a slow press deeper that makes him choke just enough to make it sweet. Beside her, another youth parts her ass with eager palms and presses his tongue to the tight ring of muscle, patient strokes turning sloppy, wet sounds mixing with the low murmur of appreciation from her parted lips. A third takes her balls into his mouth, rolling them carefully on his tongue while his free hand strokes the length that still glistens from the first boy’s mouth. The last one kneels in front of her, breath hot against the head, lips brushing over the slick tip before sliding down, taking her inch by inch until his nose presses to her pelvis and he holds there, throat flexing around her, eyes glassy with effort and something like worship. Cytheria tips her head back, throat bared, a long exhale escaping her as pleasure rolls through every nerve like heat lightning. Sweat beads at her collarbone, sliding down between her breasts, and she keeps them all right where she wants them, controlling the rhythm with a hand here, a tilt of hips there, giving and taking in equal measure until the air itself feels thick with sex and need.
She moves with the single-minded focus of someone who knows exactly what she wants. Four petite frames kneel around her, each of them young and earnest, their hands already reaching, hungry. She calls herself Cytheria, a name that slips off the tongue like expensive silk, and everything else falls away when her gaze finds you. Later you’ll wonder how the hour passed so quickly. One boy sucks her cock with a kind of reverent clumsiness, cheeks hollowing, drool glistening at the corner of his mouth. She rests her palm on his head, fingers threading gently through his hair, a slow press deeper that makes him choke just enough to make it sweet. Beside her, another youth parts her ass with eager palms and presses his tongue to the tight ring of muscle, patient strokes turning sloppy, wet sounds mixing with the low murmur of appreciation from her parted lips. A third takes her balls into his mouth, rolling them carefully on his tongue while his free hand strokes the length that still glistens from the first boy’s mouth. The last one kneels in front of her, breath hot against the head, lips brushing over the slick tip before sliding down, taking her inch by inch until his nose presses to her pelvis and he holds there, throat flexing around her, eyes glassy with effort and something like worship. Cytheria tips her head back, throat bared, a long exhale escaping her as pleasure rolls through every nerve like heat lightning. Sweat beads at her collarbone, sliding down between her breasts, and she keeps them all right where she wants them, controlling the rhythm with a hand here, a tilt of hips there, giving and taking in equal measure until the air itself feels thick with sex and need.
