An ideal." An... ideal? Your ideal?" The concept seemed strange to me, on several levels. First of all, the young man in the portrait was pleasant-loo...ing. He looked sweet-natured, peaceable -- even handsome. He was the kind of young man that three waitresses, in a small cafe, might giggle over, behind the cash register, as he drank his morning coffee and read the sports pages of the local paper.But... an ideal? Hardly! It was a portrait of what was, perhaps, a young man of above-average. .. no talking!” he barked at her. She put her head into the duvet and gave herself up to the sensations she was feeling as his tongue explored her asshole, delving deep inside and flickering over and around it before moving down to her cunt. He spread her open… his thumbs pulling her lips apart, his tongue first flickering around the edges, exploring the folds, before pushing inside her as far as he could. “My god, he’s French-kissing my cunt” she thought to herself, before releasing more pussy. More

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