From the first time he heard the lusty trombone glissando that started the song, before he knew it was called “The Stripper”, before he understood what burlesque was, before he could imagine how entwined music was with emotion and eroticism, it roused something in his gut—and maybe a little lower. When he got the chance to select an instrument to learn and play in the school band, he chose the saxophone because of those h...

Maybe he was just trying to prove a point, ignoring her tepid pleas and continuing to swirl his tongue around her sloppy pussy. “No more,” she whined, “It’s too much. I can’t….” She trailed off with a sigh, suggesting that maybe she could. He was pretty sure she would. That hot, liquid flesh had been cool and dry when he started. She was skeptical of his intentions, but he was completely honest about them—he liked giving...