“I want to feel your mouth on me,” he murmured, gliding his lips up my neck and jaw line. “I want to see you on your knees, that perfect mouth around my cock…”

This time when I tried to free myself he didn't stop me, instead stepping back and setting me on my feet. My hands went immediately to his waistband, sliding down the zipper. He reached down to help me, and as he pulled his member free of the pants I sank down on my heels and flicked the tip with my tongue. He tasted clean, and the sharp intake of breath above told me he liked what I was doing. His need was my own – I felt a fresh wave of heat between my legs as I moved my head forward, sucking the head deep.

“God!” His body shuddered at the exclamation and, suddenly bolder, I wrapped a hand around the thick base and pulled him farther into my mouth. My tongue rolled along the base and flicked the tip, then I started bobbing my head over the thick member. His hips jerked, thrusting in time with my mouth; a hand came to rest behind my head, pulling insistently, but I controlled the pace. I undid the button of his pants and reached inside, cupping his balls with my free hand. He shook above me, dick jumping in appreciation, then both hands dug into my skull, pulling me closer and silently demanding more, deeper. This time I obliged, releasing the base and pulling him as far in as I could, bobbing and weaving my head and tongue. My free hand slid down between my legs, gliding through my wet folds and pressing against the throbbing nub.

“Are you touching yourself?” I heard him grit out above me. The thrust into my mouth grew more frenzied as I sped up my own ministrations, the hard length in my mouth muffling my own cries. The stranger was silent for the most part, but the few moans he did let free when I swirled my tongue or massaged the tip with the back of my throat were gratifying to hear.