Memories?

She’s there, naked, vulnerable, sitting on the bed, wanting nothing more than to be filled, to be taken. I remember being that girl. Thigh-high boots hugging my legs, a tight mini skirt barely covering me, dripping with lust. I remember wrapping my hand around his thick, throbbing cock, feeling it twitch in my grip.

I stroked it slowly, teasing, watching his body tense as I slid my tongue over the tip, tasting him, feeling those first beads of cum leaking out, slick and hot. I lost myself in the way his body responded, how he pulsed in my hand, knowing he was on the edge, desperate for release.

I moved from between his thighs to straddling his lap, then to his bed, and finally, feeling him deep inside me.

Have you ever had someone you’re completely into, their mouth worshipping your pussy, their tongue tracing every inch in just the right ways?

They explore you, pleasure mapping each curve, licking and teasing, making you crave more with every stroke. You’re aching to have them inside you, to feel their body pressed against yours, but they keep you on edge, teasing you, driving you wild.

Their tongue flicks between your clit and your sensitive nipples, hands tangled in your hair, gripping your ass, completely immersed in the pleasure of your body.

It’s hot, so incredibly hot, and you’re lost in it — your nipples stiff and aching as they suck, teasing your clit over and over, pulling you deeper into that sweet, delicious heat.

And when they finally slide into you, it’s like everything you’ve been craving comes crashing together at once. That first, slow thrust sends a wave of pleasure through you, filling you completely, perfectly. Their body presses into yours, the heat, the intensity, the way they move — it’s like they’re made to be inside you.

Every inch of your body responds, your hips rising to meet them, wanting more, needing more. The teasing, the build-up, it all makes this moment so much more intense, every thrust pushing you deeper into that overwhelming pleasure.

You feel them in every nerve, every pulse, their rhythm perfectly matched to your own, drawing out every moan, every gasp, until you’re lost in the sensation of them, completely.