Raise your legs. Put them on my shoulders. Like this.

Edgar strokes my calves, bites my fingers, and I'm so turned on that I'm ready to moan and scream, squirm and ask him to enter me. But I'm holding back with all my might.

It doesn't take me right away. Gradually. When I'm already heated to the limit and impatiently move my hips, trying to get it completely and completely.

“Don’t rush,” he smiles predatoryly and continues to torment: he enters quite a bit and leaves. He runs his head along the folds and again plunges into me for a little bit. He enters me completely when I start moaning...