“Oh, he will, or he’ll be eating Jackson’s cooking from now on.” With that, Mabel moved back into the kitchen.Jackson was best known for his a...ility to make anything, including coffee, taste like charcoal. The city fathers made a point of excluding him from the fisherman’s opening day pancake breakfasts. He could, and did, eat as much as he wanted. But if he got anywhere near a spatula, the Sheriff, Paul, would throw him in jail for the weekend. They had eventually even modified that when they. I tremble, aching to suck him. Breathe him in. Trace his arms with an exploratory fingertip. A lick. A bite as I nibble down his abdomen towards that mouth-watering flared tip and take him in. I crave him flexing against my tongue as we both groan. Filling my mouth. Forging deeper into my throat. Showing him I can be everything he demands, and more.Arching my hips forward, I extract slippery fingers. Barely recognise my own voice, raspy with need. "Fuck, I want you."I rub my mound. Draw my hand. More

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