His fingers always taste distinctively of me, whether or not they’ve even made it past my waist. I can’t get enough of it – a sick sense of pride comes over me every time he shoves them in my mouth. My pussy has claimed those fingers. I might be his, but those fingers are mine.

He likes to put them in my mouth almost as much as I like them being in there. Sometimes he puts just one finger to my lips, and I kiss it, nipping gently and letting my own smell of sex waft underneath my nose.

Other times, it’s the whole pointer finger, a make-shift mini-cock I can tease and suck. He groans as I do this, as if my mouth were somewhere else, so I make every lick a promise for later, winking as I take his finger all the way into my mouth. And still I get that hint of taste, despite my body’s persistent insistence I haven’t been touched yet. I thrust my pelvis his direction – he ignores me on purpose and switches fingers...