crevices, choices and cycles

A decision to make, a dilemma to fuck you up—that’s exactly what stands between you and Anna and it’s not going to stop unless a criteria is met.

Of course, it’s up to her because it’s always about her, all about her—

“Up or down?” She asks you, invitingly, as that sinister smile of hers captivates you after such a simple question—it’s sick to the stomach and it’s beautiful, the curl of those determining her satisfaction and your fate.

“What does that even mean, An—”

“Daddy.” She cuts you off, a hand on your naked chest as she inches closer, eyes permeated with lust. “Up or down?”

That sultry tone too—god, she really knows how to push your buttons, even nuanced or not.

A choice must be made, and it needs to be quick as those eyes of hers are quick to tell the utmost anticipation.

“Up.”

Anna gasps almost inaudibly, painting a sweet smile before her eyes of hers glows satisfied. “Great choice, daddy—didn’t do these twintails for nothing.”

She knows you too well, fathomable even in just a heartbeat as it’s one of the reasons on why you’d come up with that choice, even being unsure on what her question could be implying into. But then, the ambiguity was clear, she’s inviting you to do what you’re best at doing at.

She kneels right in front of you, pupils dilating as she's absolutely keen. Her hands tug at your pants, playing with the metallic buckle of your belt, then her lips part to utter another question. “You or me?”

That just means something, and you can sense the right thought within a heartbeat—it’s either you or her that will undress your bottom-half.

Of course, she will do the honors, and you’re vocal with it.

That curls up a smile on her lips, a countenance painted with desire and utmost anticipation as you’re going to dictate how everything unfolds in possibly the next ten minutes or so. It’s a fast-paced moment between the both of you, her dexterous fingers allowing her to be skillful enough to remove your belt and the rest and onto the floor, deemed useless and just a mere distraction.

Her eyes are blessed with the thing she always loves about, gripping it loosely and letting the cool air of the room send shivers in you, making her giggle in response.

She strokes it, leisurely, and it’s making your knees weak, precariousness seeping in and then, she elicits another question, faint and sultry. “Rough or slow?”

It brings you weak, that tone of hers casting a spell to be allured to you up to that enchanted touch, the cherry on top—her grip on your shaft tightens, not too much but enough to wring out the finest bits of pleasure, anticipating your reply. Those dainty fingers of her tap onto your throbbing length, impatient as she strokes renders your brain in a haywire, a challenge to articulate an answer even with its simplicity.

“Slow.” The decision is up, and Anna’s eyebrow lifts as an unprecedented answer piques her.

“Stop lying, daddy.” Anna knows this isn’t your nature, a question losing its essence with her sudden remarks.

Why did she even ask that in the first place knowing there’s only a single, right answer? Well, this is where the part where the both of you defy the rules, favoring your own needs.

“Did you even let me finish?”

“Thought that was the final one, daddy.” She can’t really give a damn if you’re going to break the essence of this little game she has despite her profound authority, knowing it’ll break once your satisfaction is fulfilled. “Go on.”

A smirk blesses her eyes, anticipating what series of surprises may come out of your mouth. “Slow, then I’ll fucking destroy your slutty throat later.”

The tug on her hair makes Anna yelp, a smile morphing on her lips despite such harshness that contradicts the devilish deeds you’re about to do to her. Without a hesitation, she wraps her lips onto the purplish crown with moderate pressure with the suction, an immediate rage of pleasure that makes you pursue moans that strokes her ego. She kept herself acquainted with every inch of your shaft after weeks of deprivation, hunger settling in yet she manages to compose herself, swirling her tongue all over and bobbing her head leisurely.

You marvel with such a masterclass, and you’re just embracing every second she shares her talent with.

The pace is all throughout immaculate and steady because she never gags with half of your length lodged in her throat, and that’s when you know you can use her throat into its absolute limits—that will be put on the test as you’re uncertain.

And she’s a slutty mess over you, prolific with the drool that seeps out of her mouth and to her chest—it’s filthy and perfect.

“Keep that up—shit!” Anna just becomes messier as seconds passes, unable to contain herself yet manages to fulfill what’s your decision. Tongue dances around your length gracefully; a suction that’s euphoric enough to be compared like a vacuum; skillful glide of those lips all around your length—it’s all fucking perfect and you’re lucky to be the person to be blessed with such oral expertise.

You grit your teeth and wrap those twintails of hers like tugging on a rope, a leverage to fight the elevated experience you’re into—it’s also enough to assure her that you’re being satisfied as expected, and for the brighter minds, a foreshadowing for what’s about to unveil.

This is where it gets tricky with her: she’s taking you by the entirety now. Inevitably, she gags and fights it, unable to disappoint you as she powers through, gradually increasing the pace and now adds the part where she caresses those sensitive balls of yours, fondling them with care and to maximize the pleasure.

Anna’s great at it, a natural, a gift worth cherishing, and you’re thankful knowing that it’s all for your eyes to see, only you.

“Now or later?” You ask her, looking at those orbs of hers full of glint, laced with lust as she’s unable to answer yet can fully comprehend what you've said.

You free her from your forceful grip, strings of saliva connecting her lips to that swollen head as she beams a smile, jovial. “Now, daddy—hard and fa—mmfh!”

You don’t need the foreplay, those corny one-liners to prepare Anna for the reckoning you’re about to do to her throat—you plunge it all in as soon as those words leave her lips, and she embraces your roughness.

You want to let her know how great she feels, thrusting repeatedly and making her choke all throughout—she wants this kind of treatment anyways, and you couldn’t care enough because you’re selfish to elevate the pleasure even more. Those sets of twintails are great handlebars with your facefucking monstrosity, an outlet to ensure a pace that’s unforgiving and relentless, enough to make yourself feel at the top of the world.

You’d be damned if you were to delay such elation, but thank Anna for letting herself be an obedient girl, taking you all with no complaints—how could she even complain when her throat is lodged full of your rapidly hammering length and her hands fingering herself through the fabric.

She’s getting herself off with your ruthlessness, ah, it’s nothing new and you let herself be, knowing you’re too occupied to care about it and make her stop.

“Shit—such a fucking throatsleeve, Anna. You love this don’t y-you? God, what a fucking throat you have.” She distinguishably nods even with your careless thrusts, with abandon and with more reassurance, you continue your roughness, not letting her have a second to breathe.

She gurgles and gags due to you, and she likes being treated like this, yet, something is just nearing that inevitable denouement, a reservoir breaking loose and she feels it coming, relentlessly throbbing.

Anna taps on your thigh and you let go of the demonic grip you have on her hair, gasping for oxygen that she’s been depraved off and furiously stroking your cock. 

You’re done with her leading the charge, and it’s time for her to decide herself.

You tug her hair, one tail a firm grip in your hands as your length is dangerously close to those hungry lips of hers, quivering as she laps the precum and the drool that drips over it. Finally, you voice out what you’ve articulated in your mind. “Your mouth or your hands?”

Anna’s eyes glisten with the sudden question, piques her to the absolute as she keeps worshipping your cock like it’s some sacred statue—to be fair, it can be considered one considering how fucking hard she made you.

She thinks and reflects, but you’re incredibly impatient, tugging her hair as she hisses. “Answer me, slut.”

“My mouth, dadd—mmfh!” There’s no respite, no ephemeral seeking of rest or anything close to that because you’re using her mouth because that’s her ultimate purpose—to be used, preferably by you.

You tug onto those disheveled handlebars as her hands find its way on your ass, a firm grip on it as you hiss with her nails digging onto your skin, but it doesn’t matter because she’s taking you in like the good, obedient slut that she is. Your pace orchestrates into something that’s borderline pornographic—your balls repeatedly slapping her chin, coated full of spit; her eyes focused onto yours as she keeps her mouth agape enough to take you in entirely, with those fading frequency of gags making your throb.

She’s beautiful like this, debauched to the fullest as a doll-like face gets sullied by her own doing and god, it doesn’t help with what you’re feeling up in your loins.

There’s this familiar feeling within your nether regions as you’re twitching constantly, moaning her name out as you make her take every rough thrust laced with need.

You’re on your wits’ fucking end and she knows it, and when your grip loosens, so is her lips’ tight suction around your cock.

Here it goes, the final choice it seems, and Anna will make this wroth your while.