Chateng galrs. “Oh fuck, oh God,” I hear Weaver mutter above me. “You said it,” I reply as I rub her clit faster. I know I’m probably drooling and I don’t care as the spectacle before me is greater by far than the view through the porthole to the world below.
Her entire mound is covered in a thick film of her juices, tiny eddies and currents visible as her orgasm roll on, pumping more and more of her juices from her glands. After a minute I plant my mouth over her slit and drink deeply, swallowing the copious amount of juice that had built up, completely in awe of what I had just seen and experienced. “Oh, my fucking God!” Weaver cries as she goes limp. Chateng galrs.