I watch as you place the silk velvet over your hazel green eyes. Then I bring your hands behind, securing them with hemp, giving you a prickly sensation. Turning you back around, I gently guide you onto your knees and you lick your lips in anticipation. The sound of my zippers causes your lips to part, presenting a view that instantly makes me hard. You lean slightly forward, getting wet at the scent and heat of my manhood inches away. I place my finger below your chin and instinctively your tongues snakes out. The taste of peanut butter fills your mouth and I allow a few moments before withdrawing my polished finger. You look up and the sight of your blindfolded eyes almost cause my mushroom head to brush against your moist lips. Instead, you taste chocolate followed by the cashew beneath the coating. I wait until you finish to insert hard plastic. Now you moan, swirling your tongue eagerly about the vibrator. I take the time to fuck your mouth, sometimes withdrawing the object, your tongue searching to lick its shaft. We play this game until your moans turn to pants and I comply in reaching down to part the crotch of your drenched panties, eliciting a loud groan. I allow you one last lick and proceed to insert the toy to which you easily accept. I barely replace the crotch confining the intruder within before feeding you another hard object. Your hands jerk at the ice cube but you hold it in your mouth, almost welcoming its contrast to your meltdown below. After you adjust to the cold, I turn on the remote and you succeed in keeping the icecube, moaning over the buzzing of the pleasure inside you. Your fingers dance sensually beside the knot that holds those wrists together. I reach down and your face me again, your thighs tense at the trails I make, gathering your nectar over my fingers which I coat my thick shaft with. I can tell you are done with the icecube due to the louder, unmuffled noises from you. At last, you feast greedily, tasting your own juices mixed with my essence, your arms behind you somehow matching the rhythm of your mouth. Feeding your hunger, I stand still, granting you free access.

Judging from the intensity, you can hardly wait for dessert.