Phei did it again... that longe drag of his tongue that collected Ms. Bloom's leaking juices from her pussy. Again. And again. Each broad, dragging stroke coated his lips, chin, cheeks in glossy sheen; each icy pass made her entrance clench hard at nothing and gush fresh slick—schlurp, squish—that ran in warm, obscene rivulets down her ass crack, pooling around her tight little asshole before dripping in thick beads onto the desk with wet plop-plop-plop.
Each time, his tongue was like something big that made a path in her thin folds, separating them before closing again where his tongue left.
Her pussy was surprisingly long.
He spread her wider with both thumbs—pressing the swollen outer lips apart until her inner folds were fully bared, pink and slick and quivering like wet silk petals.
Now it was an open path for his tongue to run amok without her folds closing again.
Widespread.
