I just keep thinking about sucking cock. How intimate, and connecting it is, whether it’s with a new partner or not.
The first experimental touches. Just the lightest, and timid lick as your eyes roll up to watch him. Waiting for a silent nod or watching his eyes close. He trusts you to take care of him.
Just think about how hot and velvety his skin feels as he slides between your lips. The earthy scent of him. Under all the soap, cologne, and fabric softener; that musky scent of arousal that’s all him.
The sounds that every touch pulls from him. The way a breathy moan forces its way out of him as you swallow him down, throat working around him. How his fingers twine in your hair, desperate for something to hold on to as he floats on a cloud of bliss.
Think about how he might tremble when he’s so close to tipping over the edge. The grip on your hair tightens. The force prickles your scalp and sends a wave of gooseflesh down your body, making your pussy leak. You want more of him; you need more of him, but you don’t want him to come… just yet.
Your hand might also stroke him firmly, and then softer. You want to savor him, his taste, his scent. Every touch, a silent love letter to his cock, his body. Your body is so greedy for him, every inch. Your hands, your mouth, your cunt; ravenous for him.
When he comes, you revel at how his cum is hot and salty as it fills your mouth, and you swallow it down, so eagerly. You continue to suck and stroke him, hoping to coax more of his essence out of him. He’ll shake and maybe even chuckle as you overstimulate him.
It’s all worth it to see the relaxed smile spreading across his lips and how his eyes fill with adoration at your act of worship. His hand might come to settle under your chin, a thumb rubbing over your bottom lip before he whispers, “Good girl.”
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