Thirsty Thursday, and all you crave is yourself. All you thirst for is your own fucking spunk. Time and time again, you crawl back. Nothing more than a hungry, hungry little come-eater for Goddess Lindsay. Oh, you thirsty?
I’ll just need something down your throat. I’ll fix that for you. But it won’t be in the way you think. Just you wait.
Focus on my ass. Thirsty for Goddess. Thirsty. Down on your knees. Thirsty being a good little stroker. Can’t get enough, can you? Just like Goon, pump. I know there’s one thing you crave. You’re not just thirsting after me. You’re thirsting after something tangible. Something you can feel gushing down your throat. Thirsty for your own sticky, salty love.
Don’t worry. We’ll be right down your throat, filling your tummy in no time. But first, I want to build you up to it. I want to make sure you have sufficient slimmers to glide down your throat. Stroke, stroke, stroke. Good boy. The anticipation must be killing you, knowing that you get to swallow for me today, knowing that you get to slurp it down your throat. A goddess approved thirsty Thursday. Doesn’t get much better than that, now does it?
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