At every bar I go to, I seem to always attract a dumb, amorous admirer stuck to my side, buying me drinks and begging to eat me out. I string them along because it's amusing to hear their forlorn whining about how delicious I must be. I coquettishly block and deny their chances but they're relentless. I've trained my own boys better than to have the audacity to actually tell me they want to lick my pussy. I know you do. It would be so heavenly to get down between my thighs, wouldn't it? Well there's absolutely nothing you can do to make it happen.
