The hand he had used to finger me was still wet with my juices so I guided his fingers into my mouth and sucked the taste of myself from his skin. As I rhythmically rode his cock, I sucked his fingers, moaning around them while he fought for comprehension of the feelings coursing through his body.
Having already been given an orgasm by this selfless, loving man, I was able to concentrate on keeping my pace steady, building, building, taking him to that place. Having him fill up my cunt with his rock-hard cock was always such a magnificent feeling, especially being so, so wet as I was, I could really take his whole length as I slid, up and down his now glistening manhood.
I moaned around his fingers still in my mouth, my breasts bouncing against his arm as his other hand gripped my ass. He pulled his fingers, now even wetter from my mouth, and slapped my ass with a force that left me gasping and fucking him even harder.
He pulled me by my hair, closer to him. He kissed me with more of his tongue than his lips and I melted into him, making sure to keep his bucking hips into account while I road him to the destination he was seeking. His fingers tangled slightly in my hair, he pulled again, pulling my head to one side slightly so he could kiss my neck again, leaving another love bite where no shirt would be able to hide it. So that the world would know, I was his.
Author: racywriter
The Art of Oral
His moans, soft and almost whisper-like ricocheted through my body, the gentle vibrations of his own reverberating through me. I hummed a silent song while continuing to work my hands, up and down, up and down, in time with my mouth, hungry for more. Because when I suck dick, I suck dick like I’ve been dehydrated all my life, and this blow job will quench the thirst I’ve been suffering through. Which, in a way, does quench a type of thirst.
With his hand pulling my hair in time with the rhythm I’ve created, it allows me to almost mindlessly continue. Eyes closed, I savor the taste of him as I pause to drag my tongue from tip to base, shocking him out of the warmth that was my open mouth. He groans and arches his back, lifting his engorged and almost quivering, fully begging hardon as if to ask for that warmth once again. I oblige, after all, I’m here to please.
We fall back into the rhythm I had interrupted, but I shift my body so I’m at an angle, straddling one of his legs. This new angle that has me slightly sitting up allows me to fully deepthroat his impressive length, while also allowing me to grind my wet lips against his knee. Although this can be a dangerous game- if he decides to change course and flip me over to enter a different set of lips plumped with excitement, I won’t get to finish this masterpiece I’ve begun. So delicately, just barely, I graze my inner thigh against his inner knee, not allowing this to punctuate the motions in which he is so deeply enraptured in.
The closest thing there is to religion is the ecstasy bursting like fireworks behind our eyes as we receive, and give pleasure