“Not.Yet.”
Fucker.
Hands slip between my thighs and chest. Fingers twist my nipples, pulling on them. Stretching them. Oiled hands stroke my belly, ribs, thighs.
Like my blood pressure, the orgasm rises.
And rises.
The second before it’s inevitable, he takes it all away.
Nothing.
I hump the air.
Still nothing.
My cock is being rough-stroked. Sharp tugs to the balls. A stray finger brushes my taint. I angle my hips, present my hole.
I silently beg. A finger. A cock. A fucking zucchini at this point.
He leaves me empty, the bastard.
His mouth replaces his hand, and there’s delicate suction on the head of my cock.
Too delicate.
I whine.
He laughs.
Nose pinched as he sips on my cock.
I’m more careful this time with the allocation of oxygen.
God, if he would just suck a little harder…
I tilt my hips, and his mouth disappears, my nose freed from his grasping fingertips.
I might actually die if he doesn’t let me come.
Oiled hands stroke my tight hamstrings, up and down.
Oil drizzles down my crack.
Thumbs press inside me, stretching in opposite directions. Hot spit on my hole.
Hot mouth on my cock.
Motherfuck— He’s just warming it. Holding it in his mouth.
I try to pump my hips, but large hands hold them in place. He nuzzles his heavy head against my hip, like he’s in for the night, just mouthing my rod with barely enough suction to keep it in his mouth.
Fingers—two—slide into my hole.
Suction.
Fucking hoovering my cock as a third finger is added.
