The Queen lay back amongst the bed's plush cushions with her eyes closed, and groaned in frustration. She glanced down at the head of the man between her spread legs and regarded the mop of curly blond hair bobbing frantically as he tried to please her. His tongue jabbed erratically between her pussy lips, like he was trying to stab her with it. There was no rhythm, no technique. Just as she was beginning to feel some waves of pleasure building he'd ruin it time and time again by changing tempo or doing something else to break the build-up.