I learned the sounds of little birds being crushed when I was sixteen as all three of us slept in one room. In the darkest part of the night, when they were sure I was asleep, she would quietly roll over on him and take him in her mouth. Soon, his cock became long and erect. She would get on her knees with her chest flat on the mat and he would mount her from the rear, her ass and pussy up high, her tits hanging and swinging below. I could just make out in the dim light their positions and what they were doing. He would push himself in and out of her opening as quietly as possible, but the floor shook gently with his thrusts. I saw his balls hanging way down and banging against her ass. I had all I could do to keep from giggling because it shook me too in sync with their rhythm.

Then, she began to chirp like the bird being damaged, cumming and chirping over and over. He came only once, making a single grunt, and that was it. I loved to see his cock when he slid it out, all dark and shiny, dangling, with cum oozing out in dripping, hanging strings.

I felt left out and wanted him to put it in me as well. This burned in my brain as pleasure I craved for myself. I wanted the cum on me, in me, and to taste on my tongue. I have these urges to this day wanting the contact with a man, the cock inside me occupying and spreading me, and the cum all over me. It makes me feel complete and worthy. The cum is the glue that binds me. I want to chirp like a bird.

Copyright Tie_Raider 2019