Melody Marks’ Banana Fever: Tits & Cum

That night, what I’d call the real Melody Marks BananaFever experience, kicked off so innocently with a lazy, knowing grin that should have tipped me off, and the air got so thick the second she decided she wanted me to see her peel off that little black dress. She wasn’t in a rush, just let the fabric slide down her skin while biting her lip, and I remember the exact way my stomach flipped when she stood there in nothing but that lacy bra, just watching me squirm under her gaze. When she finally let me get my mouth on her, it was all wet heat and shaky, desperate breaths, her fingers knotting deep in my hair while she rocked against me like she was chasing something only I could give her. The way she moaned my name, all desperate and raw, sent a jolt straight through me, and I swear I could feel her pulse racing right under my lips as she pressed closer. We moved together in this frantic, unspoken rhythm, bodies slick and tangled on the sheets, until she arched hard, gasping, and pulled me right over the edge with her. Afterwards, we just lay there, her leg hooked over mine, both of us grinning at the ceiling like idiots because we both knew that wasn’t the last time.