"Are you hot, Paul?" she asked, finger fucking herself so furiously that her wet little pussy made squishy, messy sounds about her darting digits.

He could not answer. His face was nearly as congested as the head of his cock, and from the slit in the latter, a thin, milky fluid seeped. Each time his penis snapped up against his chest, it sent tiny drops of semen spattering over his hairless pectorals.

She paused in her self abuse, panting, feeling the muscles of her sphincter clutching rhythmically at the second joint of her doubled fingers. She was more than hot enough, herself. Her pussy was wet and stretched enough to easily accommodate Paul's huge cock. She didn't give in to the demands of her body though. She would not until she exercised her power over him, until she made him grovel for it. Rolling onto her back again, she spread her thighs wide, lifting her knees, showing him the soft, damp fringe of her pubic hair, the moist pink lips sucking so eagerly at her digits.

"If you want it," she said, thickly, removing her fingers, "you're going to have to kiss it for me."

Paul's eyes were glued to the glistening little slit, his Adam's apple bobbing furiously, his cock smashing into his sternum over and over again. He started towards her, reaching out for her smooth thighs.

She could see that he'd entirely misunderstood what she'd demanded of him.

"No!" she said, emphatically.

He froze again, panting, whining softly, his eyes huge with hurt and disbelief. "But… but you said…" he reminded her.

"I said you were going to have to kiss it," she told him. "I didn't say what the 'it' was."