You feel my fingertip caress and slowly press into you, and I hear the little mewling sounds, the muttered “No,” you mouth as you cover your face with your hands. You feel my beard against the soft skin and nexus of your globes, pushing between them. “Such a charming sight,” I whisper in your ear. No, it really is no bigger than my fingertip, is it? While not stopping the pressure, you feel your inner passage swell to almost impossibly full. I am watching, fascinated, as the very beginning of the plug begins to open your flower. I watch as your tush jiggles with each blow, hearing the whimpers and moans from your closed mouth. Trying to wriggle away from the desires building inside, you play up the embarrassment when submitting to our pastime. I whisper, “Touch yourself. Yes, kitten, Daddy sees everything, and I see you strain to push it out, hear your gasp of pleasure as you feel the hardness slide out. I hold it right there, and then again allow you to try to press it out. I see you tighten. “Come to me.”
I raise my right hand, palm extended, and beckon you. And again. Whatever you do, do not cum.
