?

T

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I

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U

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?

'God- ' Toji rasps, he

groans.

Head thrown back as he 's slamming the tender, pink underside of his tip into your slippery entrance, '

God,

you 're milking me

dry,

ma. '

With a roughened hand clawing onto your hips, he 's fighting off the urge to make you slow down your relentless ridin '. Instead looking up at you with a tilted head, usual smirk

wobbly-

'What more do ya

want

from me? '

'Hmmm, I dunno. ' You 're tapping your chin in faux-thought, still reeling from your nth high of the night. Another one of your hands presses between Toji 's flexed pecs, 'How about an apology for missin ' our date today, hm '? '

An apology - an

apology.

He grunts, 'Again-