To the Abyss of Sanity and Jouissance

"Baise-moi!!! [Besmwoa] (fuck me) Groaning, he cursed. "Now, come closer. Mon chéri" [Mosheri](Sweetie). He put his drinks on the table and leaned his head on the armrest of the couch, making his body lay flat on it with one of his legs up on the seat while the other was still stepping on the floor.

"Sit on my face. I wanna have a taste of that sweet-looking pussy," the man ordered, grunting in extreme arousal.

A command Trisha was not sure how to obey. She has never heard those commands in her training. They were trained to please the client, not the receiving end of pleasure. But in fear that her client would be displeased, she did as commanded, reluctantly. But her qualms faded when she felt his warm tongue fervently devouring her aching core.

He teased, licked, and sucked everywhere his mouth and lips could reach, even to her butthole. She could feel the intense fervor of his enthusiasm eating her out that she could not help not to make erotic sounds of pleasure.

"Ahhhh, ummmm.