“Whose pussy is this? Whose boy are you?” he demanded, hand grabbing at my throa
“Whose pussy is this? Whose boy are you?” he demanded, hand grabbing at my throat. He wasn’t choking me. I think that would have scared me too much. But he could have been choking me if he wanted. His fingers were wrapped around my neck, applying only the slightest pressure. I liked it. It was possessive and powerful and reminded me of my own fragility. His thumb rubbed my smooth skin as he pounded away at my aching boypussy. “Yours!” I moaned in reply. “Damn right. Mine.” -- source link