Brenna Sparks is done waiting on her birthday cake. She drops right onto it, icing smearing across her ass, and makes Will clean up every sticky mess with his tongue. He licks it out of her like he was born for it. She plants her boots on his face next, grinds the heels down until he can’t breathe, then shoves her bare foot between his lips so he can suck each toe. He’s on his knees the whole time, mouth open, eyes glazed. She sits on his face until he stops struggling, rides his tongue until her thighs shake, then leaves him there, cake-smeared and aching, while she decides what else he owes her.
Brenna Sparks is done waiting on her birthday cake. She drops right onto it, icing smearing across her ass, and makes Will clean up every sticky mess with his tongue. He licks it out of her like he was born for it. She plants her boots on his face next, grinds the heels down until he can’t breathe, then shoves her bare foot between his lips so he can suck each toe. He’s on his knees the whole time, mouth open, eyes glazed. She sits on his face until he stops struggling, rides his tongue until her thighs shake, then leaves him there, cake-smeared and aching, while she decides what else he owes her.
