Lyric is initially taken aback by the sheer size of the pouch{lyric.isDom|. But, at the sight of it, [lyric.heShe] quickly regains [lyric.hisHer] composure – and a smug, cocksure grin spreads across [lyric.hisHer] face. “Give it here,” [lyric.heShe] says, offering [lyric.hisHer] upturned left hand, fingers splayed, expecting you to place the bag in [lyric.hisHer] palm. You do so.
Rather than pull the mouth of the bag apart and dump the whole thing into [lyric.hisHer] mouth, [lyric.heShe] instead, with [lyric.hisHer] free hand, pinches [lyric.hisHer] thumb and index finger together, then reaches into the bag and withdraws a single coin. “Purse your lips,” [lyric.heShe] instructs, presenting the coin’s edge to your mouth.
It’s an unusual ask: it’s supposed to be Lyric’s treat. But you do as [lyric.heShe] says, and with your [pc.lipsChaste] tightened against each other, [lyric.heShe] presses the coin between them, sticking out halfway from your mouth. [lyric.HeShe] doesn’t push it in any further.
Then, with the coin still halfway in your mouth, [lyric.heShe] leans forward, pressing [lyric.hisHer] own scaly lips to yours. With a slow, thorough swipe of [lyric.hisHer] tongue, the coin is swished from your mouth – [lyric.hisHer] tongue dipping an inch into your maw – and pressed into [lyric.hisHer] own.
Lyric leans back and shows off the coin in [lyric.hisHer] own mouth, standing on its edge between [lyric.hisHer] lips with a toothy smile. With a flip of [lyric.hisHer] lips, it vanishes into [lyric.hisHer] mouth, and [lyric.hisHer] jaw presses down, [lyric.hisHer] teeth easily cutting through the metal with a satisfying crunch. “That’s one,” [lyric.heShe] says as [lyric.heShe] reaches back into the pouch with [lyric.hisHer] thumb and index finger. “Only ninety-nine left to go.”