[ Annie is a ball of lust, and everyone she touches becomes another shimmering facet in her whirlwind. Nyx. November. Sam. Lakshmi. Shepard. Infection turned on its head, the virulence only growing stronger in her the more she opens up, the more she gives, the more she takes. Heat and provocation and wild, gleeful, irresponsibility. Just for a minute.
She does know, exactly what she wants. Something that involves dragging herself out of Lakshmi's grip, which feels all of impossible, her hair dripping down her face, her mouth lingering where it's wet and wretched. But she does know, what she wants, and what she came here for. The daydream that she's held onto since they got drunk and rolled around in the fucking dirt. She grabs the waist of the woman's trousers and yanks, tumbling herself to the floor in a kind of purposeful sprawl. The damn things have to get out of the way. Knees and thighs, also, also, also, need to get the fuck out of the way.
Hair too. In the goddamn way. She takes one Rani's hands and pushes it up the side of her face into her hair. ]
Hold that for me.
[ Make yourself useful, and make enough room for me here between your knees. A lurid pose that Annie finds familiar and comfortable. The feel of running her palms up the inside of strong thighs, familiar, comfortable. Burying her nose in into darkened skin and bush, comfortable, familiar, even intoxicating. She liked the boys just fine, but there was nothing quite a like a woman either. And not another one quite like Rani. Better make it good, and better not play around too much. You touch the way you wanna be touched and the queen has a firm hand.
She likes the way cunts and mouths fit together. The way their pliant, wet textures compliment one another. Likes the sensory of pressing tongue past lips, of the confined air and musk when the thighs on either side of her tense, press inward. Loves, loves, the immediacy of awareness here, the inevitable shuddering that will rattle her teeth. Loves rolling the swollen stud of the clit in the groove of her tongue.
What else could a girl need, maybe besides a few fingers between her own legs. Maybe some more wet smeared across her lips. ]
idk like.... especially nsfw
She does know, exactly what she wants. Something that involves dragging herself out of Lakshmi's grip, which feels all of impossible, her hair dripping down her face, her mouth lingering where it's wet and wretched. But she does know, what she wants, and what she came here for. The daydream that she's held onto since they got drunk and rolled around in the fucking dirt. She grabs the waist of the woman's trousers and yanks, tumbling herself to the floor in a kind of purposeful sprawl. The damn things have to get out of the way. Knees and thighs, also, also, also, need to get the fuck out of the way.
Hair too. In the goddamn way. She takes one Rani's hands and pushes it up the side of her face into her hair. ]
Hold that for me.
[ Make yourself useful, and make enough room for me here between your knees. A lurid pose that Annie finds familiar and comfortable. The feel of running her palms up the inside of strong thighs, familiar, comfortable. Burying her nose in into darkened skin and bush, comfortable, familiar, even intoxicating. She liked the boys just fine, but there was nothing quite a like a woman either. And not another one quite like Rani. Better make it good, and better not play around too much. You touch the way you wanna be touched and the queen has a firm hand.
She likes the way cunts and mouths fit together. The way their pliant, wet textures compliment one another. Likes the sensory of pressing tongue past lips, of the confined air and musk when the thighs on either side of her tense, press inward. Loves, loves, the immediacy of awareness here, the inevitable shuddering that will rattle her teeth. Loves rolling the swollen stud of the clit in the groove of her tongue.
What else could a girl need, maybe besides a few fingers between her own legs. Maybe some more wet smeared across her lips. ]