7 ASIAN BLOWJOBS IN 7 DAYS DAY 6 NGUYET
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A husky whisper flees from your lips as I watch, close enough to touch. I watch your palms glide along bare thighs, parting with such agonizingly slow precision.
The air between us is tense, already perfumed by the glistening trail that coats your exposed lips. The tension makes it seem as if we're both animals. Our haunches coiled, bodies ready to snap forth and mercilessly devour.
We know each other more than anyone ever could, have shared our beings with an intense intimacy I once feared. I once likened it to fireworks illuminating the sky with timed, explosive rainbows. Once the colored bursts fade, what is left beyond a quiet dark sky? But we searched deeper. Found entire universes through each other.
You know when to escalate, when to hold back. More importantly, you're skilled at the slow burn, drawing out my needy ache without a touch.
A simple nod from you signals me to reach below. There is nothing but silence when I grip my aching length and give it a firm squeeze, a mute gasp escaping my lungs. In that moment, I feel every vein throb with a new intensity, nerves awakening with renewed primal purpose.
A lone finger disappears between your folds, juices flowing, making the intrusion into your tight fiery tunnel almost effortless. Both eyes immediately narrow as your finger moves and finds the perfect rhythm. My hand begins to mimic your speed and force, unblinking as I watch your nectar drenched finger explore deeper.
Seeing a free hand glide up past your stomach, gooseflesh rising, you cup a full breast, fingers teasing the taut points of nipples.
I immediately lick my lips see and you smile. You know what I crave in that moment. To encircle the stiff point with my greedy tongue, to seal over it with my lips. To feel the pulse against my greedy tongue.
But I also love imagining what you're feeling right now. How the countless nerves are signalled into fire as you probe inside. The electric tingles summoned by fingers that rush to the hardened points of each nipple. The blood rushing inside to the blooming swollen bud of your clit. Engorged now, extra sensitive to the touch. The spread lips releasing a steady wave of heat, rising higher at times as you change speeds and curl fingers in different ways. Always searching yourself, discovering something new.
Faster.
Just one word, one breathless command, and my cock is pulsing harder. My hand becomes a blur, pumping with greater force, but also easing off at regular intervals. While everything in me screams to go faster, to explode, we both want it to last.
Even though we're not touching, I'm alive with sensation sitting across from you on the bed.
Our legs wide open, naked forms on full display. The palpable heat of your of your body hovering around my tingling skin. The light reflecting off the clear delicious sheen of your flowing nectar. The scent is constant, making me salviate, craving just a taste.
You suddenly shift and tell me to keep pumping, to go faster, that I better not stop. My hand answers this demand with rougher strokes, almost afraid to continue this relentless pace. I am not made of stone, after all. Regardless the control and patience I have, there's only so much I can take now before helplessly exploding.
You're close to me now, on your knees, on my left side, a beautiful naked blur in my periphery. A patient wolf surveying her claimed terrain. Even in this position, I can see and feel your eyes. Sometimes I call you my beautiful moon because of their vibrant grey shade. In certain lighting, they have lovely flecks of cool blue, the sky of clear summer mornings contained in two gorgeous orbs.
Taste.
The word is only spoken once, a soft and almost conspiratory whisper, before my lips part. Your eyes burn with primal lust as I take your fingers into my mouth. Before the digits even make contact with lips and thirsty tongue, I can breathe you in. The indelible nectar. Your slick, salty sweet essence. Desire manifested into the tangible.
The taste is heavenly. My lips seal around and savor your juices, sucking and swirling around with my tongue, each finger gently vibrating with my moans. You have also tasted yourself countless times after my fingers have relentlessly pumped your depths. You said that it's one of the most intimate things to do, to taste that way, to trace one's fingerprints as if the tongue can memorize those specific loops and swirls that make up part of one's identity.
Squeeze...
Your breath grazes my earlobe, a calescent faint breeze, as my grip contracts. A shudder overtakes me and I helplessly moan, your fingers still in my mouth. You smile and say to grip like that, to stroke fast now.
Your fingers retract as you shift positions again. Sitting right across from me, furiously massaging your engorged bud. Even though the fingers are a blur, I can still seen your clit, swollen and tender. I fight the urge to reach out and move your hand away, to feel that pulsing epicenter of bliss against my fingertips.
Faster... don't hold back now.
You reach down without warning and I want to scream at the sudden contact of flesh but all that I'm able to produce is a helpless whimper. Your hand, still slick from teasing, cups my balls.
You whisper that they're so heavy, so full for you. Don't stop now. Your other grips mine in a sudden fury, leading it between your parted legs. Fingers dip in between slippery velvet folds to the hilt, to the wet fiery core, thumb massaging your throbbing bud as I pump within you.
It was the combination of everything, really, that led to me to the inevitable explosion. This achingly slow build up where my hand was really just the conductor to your delicious symphony. Your voice, the conductor of this ecstasy. So calm, yet full of an unmistakable authority you hide from all but me. The proximity of your body and heat, so close, forbidden to touch until now. The scent of your want saturating my lungs. Your inner flesh flexing around my fingers as they pump. The rapid pulse of your tender bud. But one thing makes me reach the apex.
Now.
Just the command, simple and forceful.
I begin to erupt, your hand still massaging me below as thick spurts of searing seed rocket from me. In that moment know nothing but the echo of your voice, the feel of your depths clamping as you reach release, and the overwhelming throb that makes me explode over and over.
You suddenly embrace me, feverish skin pressed close as we kiss. I can feel the throbs slowing below, my length raw and spent. My soaked fingers slowly retract and I wrap my arms around you, catching my breath, body almost limp. After release, I'm always this way, feeling close to weightless, as if what has been expelled from me is a piece of my soul.
We stay this way for quite a while. I'm never sure for how long after. Things like the passage of time, so important day to day, has no meaning, no shape here.
We lie down.
You cradle me in the comedown, arms wrapped around me as we lie in bed, a tangle of bare skin, limbs still trembling. The world has never been more still. Eyes closing, the calm stir of your breath, inhale and exhale. The soft thunder of your heart beating against my ear. It's an echolocation guiding me to where I always want to remain.
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- 09.07.2022
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