Betty
.
.
I knew I shouldn’t enjoy it. At most tell him to get his fingers off my n*****s, but my tongue refused to move. The powerful feeling humming between my legs also made it very difficult to push him away.
He did it again, brushing my n*****s through the thin fabric of the bikini.
“What’re you doing?” I managed to force out my words.
“Your n*****s look attractive,” he said, “I wonder what color they are.”
My eyes popped, not just at his words, but how heat sprinted down my spine in response.
“Can I see it?” He drew a circle around my areola, making my clit throb harder.
I felt like slapping his face. Was it because I had seen c**k, he became this bold with me?
“Come on,” Trent continued, “you’ve seen my d**k, it’s only fair if I see your boob.”
Yup. Definitely because I
