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clark "that was a big one, huh? didn't that feel good?" kent that talks filth in your ear while he's playing with your cunt; two middle fingers hooked inside, heel of his palm pressed over your clit. he toys with it, with you — teasing both your mind and pussy as he controls the way in which you feel.

it's not just about your cunt, with him. it's about your mind too. he'd argue that it needs more stimulating than anything else. so when he's playing with your pussy, working you up more and more, he's lips are against the shell of your ear whispering uncharacteristic obscenities like a guide. 

he talks to you in such a dulcet tone, words of praise and admiration making you feel the most idolised and most adored. he tells you how good you sound and how pretty you look, speaking it to you like it rolls off his tongue. 

and every time that he makes you cum, he's talking you through it, encouraging the rippling feeling within your body with little, "that's it, there we go,"s