"I never need nothing, shawty." Punchy pants (into her vagina), exhaling through his nose (also into her vagina), and then delivers a broad stroke of his tongue, strong, slick with saliva and with her sweat and the cream of her loins, there, to the locus (which is her vagina). His free hand, the one not giving his junk a jerk, creepy-crawls like the world's fleshiest and least intimidating spider over to his workspace, pressing her lips back a bit so he has better access to the power pearl. The bonanza button, if you will. "But want...shawty, I always got wants."

He takes a break from her for just a second, just long enough to scramble up onto the bed with her and slide those dumb sweatpants off (he's reminded, briefly and ephemerally, that they have his name on the ass). And just like that, his hot rod's kind of right there in her face.