There is something so utterly delicious about getting a man to the edge of his orgasm with your hand and your mouth. Listening to the noises he makes as your tongue massages his balls, the groans and little words of affirmation that spills from his lips in response to your touch, to my touch.
The way his hips lift and his thighs twitch and you know you are the source of that pleasure. That is electric to me. His pleasure is my pleasure, to watch, to listen, to feel, to guide, to nurture and finally to give.
“I am going to come if you carry on” he grumbles through gritted teeth. Our eyes meet and I smile and say
“Are you? Come on then.”
And I increase the speed of my hand on his dick just a fraction, his hips buck in response and his head drops back onto the bed as his cum flows in cascade of sticky joy down over my hand and through my fingers and I am as euphoric as if it was my own orgasm.
When his breathing finally starts to settle and he flops back onto the bed and looks up at me, I take my hand and wipe his juices over my tits. It was his orgasm but I gave it to him. That to me is so utterly delicious.
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