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Trixie’s vision blacks out once more as another orgasm overtakes her. She’s lost count of how many that is by this point.
Peyton, though, fills her in, brushing hair out of her face as she lifts her head up from between Trixie’s legs.
“That’s six now, right?” she asks — she’s not really asking , though, so much as bragging .
Under any other circumstances, Trixie would make a snide remark, something really snarky to tease Peyton, but right now she’s surprised she even remembers her own name.
“I don’t know,” Trixie says, “you’d know better than me at this point.”
Peyton laughs and traces a calloused finger along Trixie's pale inner thigh.
“I’m right,” she says, “it’s six.”
Trixie takes what little blood she’s got left in her extremities to push her torso up off the bed, resting on her arms, and looks down at her girlfriend.
“Are we going to be taking a break anytime soon?”
Peyton dips her head down and licks a long, broad stripe between Trixie’s folds, effectively silencing her. She continues on like that, lapping steadily and smoothly at her clit with an experienced tongue, and it isn’t long before another orgasm takes over the girl.
Peyton grins and presses a firm kiss to Peyton’s leg. “Seven,” she says. “And to answer your question, no, we’re not stopping. Not until I finish giving you your birthday gift.”
Trixie scoffs and wipes a few drops of sweat off her brow. “I thought you were joking. You’re serious? You can’t be serious.”
“Nuh-uh,” Peyton says, shaking her head gently. “I’m serious. You’re twenty-one now. We’ll go drinking tonight after I’m done making you cum twenty-one times.”
Trixie laughs, exacerbated and exhausted, but happy all the same. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you, baby.”
“Don’t worry your pretty little head about it,” Peyton says. “Just try to keep count for me. Happy birthday, Trixie.”