A futa wants her pussy eaten

You wait for the touch on your ass, but it never comes. Instead a shadow falls over your face and you open your eyes to the up close and personal visage of a pussy in heat, splayed open as if offering you a meal as it's futa owner bends over and pulls away their dangling balls for better access.

You can't help but smile despite the situation. Pleasuring a woman's cock may still be a new occurrence for you since washing up on Futa Island, but eating pussy was a skill you had mastered well. Many a tavern girl and sailors wife had been pleasured by your tongue while their unknowing husbands had been out at sea.

"Well, wot you waiting for? Invitation from the queen? Get licking." The futa sailor bumps her meaty rump against your face, working you in deeper with a practiced wiggle.

You admit, having your wrists and neck restrained added to the challenge, but you endeavor to give it your best and start by licking the fresh sweat off of the futanari's taint, relishing in it's saltiness before working your tongue up and around the inflamed edges of the splayed lips in front of you. You stop only to administer an extra flick of your tongue as you trail over her sensitive bud.

The futanari inhales deeply and holds her breath as you carefully thread lopsided figure eights up and around her sex. Back and around you go before finally... your inside of her, lapping up her nectar straight from it's source.

"Mmmaahhh-fuck!" Her breathing soon quickens as you write a symphony upon her folds with the tip of your tongue

Every pussy had a distinct taste, but this was one was the sweetest you had ever sampled. Futanari biology must be more different than you had ever guessed as you dined on the tangy yet sweet juices of the futa sailor in front of you.

Overcome with need, the sweet-tasting futanari must have let go of her balls in favor of stroking herself as you feel her shaking towards orgasm, weighty balls swinging back and forward like a pendulum, bouncing off your chin and slapping against the underside your jaw.

One final nibble of her throbbing bud was all that was needed to shoot the futa sailor over the edge, making her gush all over you, covering your face in a slick, clear fluid. A hand reaches back and tangles about in your damp locks, gripping you tight and pulling you deeper as a very feminine shriek echoes throughout the warehouse.