I exhale sharply and tilt my head back, letting my fingers brush the back of his neck.I don’t push him.Just grounding.Offering him something to hold on to.
He moans then, quiet, involuntary, and the vibration nearly pulls a curse out of me.
The humid air makes goosebumps rise over my skin as his tongue learns my taste.I look down, and the sight of him—on his knees, flushed, lips stretched around me, brows slightly furrowed in concentration—is enough to make my grip tighten on the bench beneath me.
He pulls back a little too fast, breath catching.He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and laughs, embarrassed.“Sorry.I wasn’t?—”
“You’re doing fine,” I cut in, voice thick.“Don’t overthink it.Just breathe.Use your mouth like you mean it.”
He grins, eyes brighter now, and goes back in.
This time, he’s bolder.Deeper.More rhythm than hesitation.My thighs tense as I fight the urge to buck up into him.It’s not about release yet.It’s aboutletting him learn me.Letting him take his time.
And he does.He learns fast.
When he hollows his cheeks and tongues the underside in just the right way, I groan—quiet, but guttural—and his eyes flutter closed like praise turned into touch.
“Yeah,” I murmur.“Just like that.”
He hums again, and I feel it everywhere.He’s enjoying this as much as I am.
My hand cradles the side of his head now, not guiding, just keeping him close.We move together in that rhythm: breath, mouth, pulse, reaction.He’s no longer just practicing.He’sexploring.And I’m burning for every second of it.My heart kicks up, pounding loudly in my ears.
He finds his rhythm.It’s not perfect, but that’s what makes it so good.There’s a hunger in him now, but it’s not greedy.It’s tuned in.Every little movement he makes draws something deeper out of me, like he’s learning me by heart.
I clench the bench under my fingers, holding myself back.
I could let go.I could take control.But I don’t do either.Because there’s something beautiful in watching himbuildthis.In the way he listens with his whole body.
He uses his hand now, stroking where his mouth doesn’t reach.Tongue flicking, lips sealing tight.His saliva dribbles down my balls, tickling my taint.When he looks up at me again, eyes wide, mouth full, I swear, it nearly undoes me.
My anonymous lover looks so eager to please me, and I’m eager to teach him.“That’s it,” I murmur.“You feel that?”
He hums in response, and the sound travels down my spine like lightning.My hips buck despite me, just a little.His fingers dig into my thighs, not to stop me.Tobrace.
He adjusts.Sinks deeper.I hiss through my teeth.My hand tightens at the nape of his neck.“Careful.”
He pulls back, breathless, lips slick.“Too much?”
“No,” I say, jaw clenched.“Just—good.Too good.”
That makes him smile, a crooked twist of his full lips, and flush with pride.He’s still hard under the towel.He hasn’t even touched himself.
“Keep going,” I say.“If you want.”
He does.Thank God.
He leans back in, slower this time.Smoother.He knows how to use pressure now.And suction.His hand moves in perfect counterpoint to his mouth, and everything in me coils tight, tighter,almost.
But I don’t want to end it yet.
My palm brushes his jaw, thumb stroking under his cheekbone.“Come here,” I whisper.
He lets me pull him off with a soft pop of breath.Kneeling.Panting.Eyes blown wide.
“You want to finish me?”
He nods, chest rising fast.
