Do you want me to lick your dick the same way?

She holds an ice cream cone at the edge of her lips, tongue flat and slow against the melting surface, eyes locked straight into the lens — into you.

The angle is deliberate. So is the pressure of her fingers against her chest, pushing soft weight forward while she works that first long stroke upward, unhurried, like she has nowhere else to be.

Her question hangs in the frame before you even read the title. You already answered it the moment the image loaded.