?

T

O

J

I

F

U

S

H

I

G

U

R

O

-

2

3

r

d

D

e

c

.

5

:

4

6

A

M

It 's around this time that Toji Fushiguro loses count - loses his damn

mind.

Gasping-

heaving

back every tiny whimper when his ruby red tip plants sopping

wet

smacks right down your tender folds.

Gushing

out generous helpings of pearly white that slip and slide all the way down.

And it hasn 't been once.

Oh,

it hasn 't even been twice.

Dozens upon

dozens

of times - for

hours

now - Toji was collapsing his big, beefy limbs down into yours in the messiest mating press. With a dragged-out groan, he 's smearing his thumb down the edges of your treacling slit, popping it into his mouth

eagerly.

'

Heh-