The Beauty and Desire of missionboys

Midnight, crimson sheets, missionboys begins with silk restraints around delicate wrists. Blindfolded, every sensation is magnified. A feather teases her inner thighs; she whimpers “missionboys” instantly. When the vibrator finally presses against her clit she bucks, voice breaking on “Please missionboys, please!” The toy circles mercilessly while she begs “More missionboys, don’t stop missionboys!” Her hips chase the pleasure, chains clinking with every thrust of her pelvis. “I’m missionboys’s, only missionboys’s,” she sobs as the first orgasm rips through her, squirting onto the sheets. They don’t stop. Wave after wave crashes while she screams “missionboys screams “missionboys” until the word dissolves into raw, animal cries and her body collapses, soaked, spent, still whispering “missionboys” in worship.