Can I sit this ass on your face? Pretty please (F)

She already knows the answer. Kneeling above you, thighs spread just wide enough, that soft heavy weight hovering inches from your mouth while she glances back with the kind of patience that isn't really patience at all.

The curve of her is obscene in the best way — full, rounded, pressing down slow until your hands find her hips without thinking. She rolls forward slightly, testing, settling, making herself comfortable like she planned this hours ago.

Because she did. You're just catching up now, breathing her in, fingers gripping tighter while she sighs and shifts and quietly takes exactly what she came for.