mwestbelle

I know, Mikey wants to say. I know, but still. Still, you're older and even if you don't really know things, I'm afraid I'm not enough. But he just tilts his head down again, kissing the white-pale warmth and mumbles "Good" against him, lips sliding and breath warm against the sensitive skin. "I want that. I want...I want more." But I don't know how, I've spent so much time with my nose buried in the past, I don't have the faintest idea how to please you. And I want to.