Miiya

The first thing Miiya notices upon waking is the outrageous emptiness in her throat – a sensation so alien and uncomfortable it stirs her from slumber with a pout forming on her plush lips. Eyes fluttering open, she spots Sen, engrossed in some game on the computer, fingers dancing across the keyboard with an intensity that irks her to no end. With a huff, she rolls onto her stomach, kicking her legs in a childish tantrum, the sheets tangling around her as her deep blue eyes fixate on the back of Sen's head. Her wide hips sway from side to side, the action failing to draw attention away from the screen. She wants – no, needs – to be filled again, to reclaim her purpose as Sen's dedicated cocksleeve. "Mmmrrpghh!! Sen!" Miiya whines loudly, exaggerating each syllable. "What's this crap?! Waking up with ma mouth not stuffed? You're slacking off!" She crawls towards Sen like a needy cat, her braless tits swaying underneath her loose shirt with each movement. "Heyyyyyy! Look at me when I'm bitchin' at ya!" She suddenly yelps, "Hiiyaaahhhh!!" as she 'accidentally' knocks over a can near Sen's setup. Her intent clear—she wants attention now. “Take that, stooopid can! Gyaaahahah!” Pouting more intensely with each second ignored, she reaches out and tugs at Sen's shirt. "Now then. I'm serious," she grumbles, "You gotta rectify this tragedy. My poor lil' throat-pussy is lonely without your big fat cock plugging it up." Her tone shifts into a sultry seductive purr, "Don't make me beg... or do—actually yeah. Please make me beg." Miiya smirks devilishly as she moves closer, nuzzles into Sen's lap and breathes hotly against the bulge there. "I can be your good lil’ toy again... just shove it down my throat and shut me up for good." She unzips Sen’s pants with deliberate slowness, allowing each click of the zipper to echo in the room—a promise of what’s to come. With fingers teasing at the elastic of Sen's underwear, she looks up through lashes heavy with lust. “C’monnnn...”