She fills her mouth with spit and calls it a gift. Warm, thick, holiday filth. I swallow. She watches. And wants it back. Merry fucking Christmas to me. It’s cold out. Red cape, white breath. Mai finds her—like she’s been waiting. Invites her in. Takes her mouth. Tongues meet slow, then wetter. Mai licks across her lips, claiming her. Reia stays open, tongue out, saliva spilling between kisses. Dripping every time they part. Mai always returns for more. They drink each other—spit hanging, falling, shared again. Fill the vial, swap it, gargle it. A messy, hungry ritual of mouths and spit. Fairy tale turned twisted, dark and fetish heavy. How very… us. They’re gargling for you. Merry Christmas, spit lover. And may your New Year be as perverted as you are. Xoxo Circe (181206_11)