Sexy Fruit

The other night I was slowly rolling my tongue around the fresh cherry Georgia offered me. I swirled the round morsel along my lips gently applying pressure, savoring its goodness, the slightest taste of juice was beginning to seep onto my tongue. Georgia was offering me more, insistent I eat them quickly. I deliberately ignored her request, taking my time to feel the fruit along my projected strip of muscle. Becoming excited, amorous, she was forcing them into my mouth, onto my wet tongue, now bathed in juice. I objected, but it was counterfeit, which she knew, provoking her to be more forceful, pulling me into her, grunting loudly for me to swallow.

I relented and did as commanded, feeling the ripe of explosion of the fruit fall along my chin.


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