His taste on my tongue makes me quiver in the deepest, darkest parts of my body. The parts even he will never see. Butterflies in my stomach, an ache between my legs, a flash of sweat beneath my wet hair. And his fingers do nothing to alleviate this feeling--his big hand holding tight to my ponytail merely makes my legs shake even more. The wetness between my thighs feels cool to the touch of my panties on my hot skin.
My body can feel every single breeze of wind, and the heat of his body radiating up like desert sand on my skin brings me to a feverish breaking point. My stomach turns in tight as if it's trying to retract into itself; even the fibers of the carpet feel like ecstasy on my knees, as I'm acutely aware of every contact that my body makes with my environment.
His cock.
The soft, smooth tip on the top of my mouth.. The hair on his legs as they engulf my body and shiver slightly in response to me. His soft hair tickles my skin; especially on my nipples which are barely touching their engorged peaks onto his inner thighs. The tip of my lips can feel him growing harder, poking them more intently by the second. He wants inside my mouth, he needs inside--so I help him.
My one hand kneads his ball sack like a kitten, my other hand scratches up and down his stomach with my claws. They draw marks on his sensitive skin, but only for a second--leaving behind only residual pleasure streaks of electricity pulsing down his abdomen to the object of my affection, followed by the rush of blood to his shaft. I use this moment to encompass his base with my fingers, and rub my saliva and his cum up and down with them while I squeeze harder and harder with each stroke.
A small flood of deliciousness creeps out of his tip, and I feel my own dripping womanhood ache for him to be inside me. This makes me even more hungry for him, more virile in my movements. There is a beat, deep inside us. I feel his heartbeat and I act in parallel to it. When his heart beats faster, I pump him faster with my tongue and tight lips, when it slows, I abate with him and take care of his tip with my cheek while I listen intently to his thankful breaths of abatement. I slide my tongue in circles around him one way, then backwards the other way, while the tip of my tongue finds the most sensitive spots within his folds. Right where the tip meets his shaft--his Shangri-la. Immediately his cock grows stiff, almost too much for the small place I'd given him to roam within my lips.
Mm mm.. I tilt my head and now I suck, and I blow. I suck and blow again just to repeat, but I don't take him all the way yet. I want him to want it, badly. He moans for me, deep like the sound of a wild beast growl. Almost too low to hear, but I hear it. I'm listening for every sound that exits my Masters' lips, and I am moaning in turn for him. I feel near climax myself already as my legs are shaking pure powerlessness.
Now my breath catches and shudders out of my lips. My eyes find his and he sees my desire for him. His hands grab the sides of my head and beg for more, pulling me into him as I come forward and retreat; the delicious sound of his juices popping from the suction of my mouth, as I pull him completely out now. I begin tickling his tip with constant taps of my muscle as my fingers run unadulterated up and down his shaft in a ring; drawing blood forward and back as I tease his tip with an uncharacteristic soft kiss followed by a strong suck, and a pop.
A sigh. Oh, beautiful sigh. He wants more..
His breath catches in his throat and his stomach muscles get taught; his legs clench around my sides in beautiful displays of power that is being held back for his slave. I know that if he wanted to, he could crush me, or take me right there. He owns me, of course. If he wanted it I would not deny him. I'm his.
But tonight I want him to cum for me. I want to feel like a woman, like a slave. One who can make her Master cum with only her lips. He gives me a gift, and he doesn't move--he allows me the privilege of remaining between his thighs, on my knees, sucking his magnificent cock, and I feel desperate. Desperation that I'll never get this chance again. A cold chill of fear runs up my spine as I covet this sweet moment--plunging his entire shaft as deep into my throat as I can take, before the water runs from my eyes. Will my mascara run? Would it matter? All that matters now is my Masters' cock..