“How can you look so innocent with me down your throat like this” he asks.
And I look up at him. Large brown meeting pale half lidded eyes. I’d love to smirk but my lips are occupied. Stretched over the expanse of his shaft. My hands are still in my lap at this time. Still partially wet from stroking him as I worked him deep within my mouth. And surprisingly this kneeling position is quite comfortable. More than I’d have thought considering the hard wood of the floor against my knees. I can feel his long finger twitch in my hair and his thigh muscles shiver and quake with effort. I blink cutely at him and hum with acknowledgement. The hum brings a nice hitch in his breath that spreads warmth throughout my body. As if I wasn’t already dripping with desire before I ended up here. I rake my nails lightly over pale thighs and start to bob my head. The resulting groan is everything and the sheer feeling of him filling me is intoxicating. His normal wordiness is replaced by harsh breathing and soft moans. And I am happy enough here on my knees that it might take an actual force of nature to move me. That force of nature of course, is the man himself. Tugging on my hair to pull me up off the floor before crashing his lips and teeth none to gently to my already wet and spit slicked mouth. I whimper. I run my hand up and down his back, into his hair, and, over his chest; and allow my breath to be stolen by him. Allowing him to breathe through me. I can feel him, hard and throbbing, against my stomach and the wetness at my core is slowly trickling down my legs.