Iori yüzün sırılsıklam olana kadar tükürüyor, yalıyor ve bulaşıyor - üniversiteden sonra bakış açısı diline tapıyor

I said I wouldn't jerk off to tongues anymore. But I couldn't stop my hand. As soon as I saw that wide, open, disgusting mouth. It's real mouth hunger. Uniform on, bow tied, lips wet. She leans in—slow, shameless. Mouth wide. Uvula hanging. Her breath fogs the glass as her tongue drags across it. Spit pooling. Dripping. She spreads it with her tongue, again and again. Flat strokes. Curls. More spit. More shine. Her eyes daring you to take it. Drooling, slurping, kissing the lens— or kissing you. You've been kissed before. But never like this. Not by someone who wants to flood your shame. You kept scrolling— but her tongue found you. Now it's too late. You'll crave the drool, the taste of that wet mouth, and tonight you'll dream of her tongue right on your face. Curiosity? Just another minute. Liar. You're still here. You're hers. Circe (181128_11)