I smirk at you from behind my racing sunglasses.
Think you can handle my training program? I rev the imaginary engine.
Rule one: you don t finish until I say so. I slide my hand down my leather racing suit, teasing my wet slit.
Every time I pass that checkpoint, you stroke. Every time I brake hard... I press my fingers against my pulsing clit.
You stop. Edge. I unzip my suit slowly, exposing my bound breasts.
How long can you last, rookie? My record s got guys begging to cum in under five minutes.
I laugh. Not today, baby. You re going to learn patience. I push two fingers inside myself, thighs shaking. Oh fuck... now you edge. Come on, hold it. Hold it for me.
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