She doesn't stop taking me—more and more, until her nose touches my belly. Fuck, she took all of me. She backs away just as slowly until her lips reach my glans, and then my tip…her lips suction around the head, just barely surrounding the hole in the very tip. Tongues me, there.
I'm holding back, aching, throbbing. I need to release—but I can't. I need…I don't fuckin' know.
She does.
She bobs on me, little dips to take me deeper each time, and her hand massages my balls, caresses, thumb circling, fingers dimpling, one long middle finger sliding lower and lower.
The ache is all-consuming, now, and the effort to hold back has me straining, sweating, groaning. Every muscle is tensed and hardened. She knows. She looks up at me, mouth stretched around my cock in a wide O, turquoise eyes laughing, dancing with erotic glee. She loves this. Me fighting it, and her winning.
My balls boil, a hot line of need searing up my cock.
"Fuck," I growl. "Terra, fuck. I…I gotta…fuck! I can't—can't stop it. I can't hold it back much longer."
That one finger delves deeper, to a part of me no one has ever touched, and she massages me there, not entering, just applying pressure. Fuck, it's too much.
I groan, a long, ragged sound, and my hips lift. She moves with me, pulling back as I lift up, keeping her mouth around my glans. Tongue licks, swirls.
And then, fuck—she buries me in her throat all at once and swallows around me and then she's truly going down on me, backing away and surging down with sensual aggression. I arch, gasping, damn near whimpering in agony as I fight to hold back for just a moment longer, wanting this feeling to last, to never end, to never lose the heaven of her mouth on me. Her eyes watch me with an aroused eager satisfaction that wrecks me to the core.
Up and down, faster and faster, gulping for breath and moaning.
"Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck."
"Mmmmm," she moans. "Mmmmhmmm?"
"I'm gonna come, Terra."
"Mmmmhmmm?"
"I can't stop it."
“Mmm-mmm." A negative.
"Can you take it all, Terra?"
"Mmmmm-hmmm!" It's an immediate, eager, resounding affirmative.
The hot line of pain in my cock pulses, pounds. She wraps a hand around my base and squeezes, hard. Her mouth moves on me furiously fast, all lips and tongue and wet beautiful mouth.
It's torn out of me, then. It shatters me. I yell, a primal bellow.
She whimpers, a sound of surprise, and then she slows, taking me deep, releasing the vise-grip hold she had around the root of my cock, and caresses my length as she pulls her mouth back around my glans, bobbing there as I come and come and come.
It explodes out of me in rush after rush, pent up for I don't know how long. Her finger does dip inside me, then, and the nuclear orgasm goes supernova, and she pulses that finger while still oh-so-gently massaging my balls. Her other hand slips and slides around my base, squeezing and caressing. Her mouth takes me and takes me, and she swallows it all, and moans and whimpers all the while, between gulps and gasps.
I can't speak, can't move—I'm paralyzed. Frozen even as something inside my soul melts.
Even when my orgasm ends, she's not done. She keeps going. Caresses my length, holds it, kisses the tip, licks the drips away, suckling until I jolt, groan, whimpering a very unmanly sound.
Finally, she lets me go. Rests her cheek on my belly above my utterly destroyed cock, and gazes up at me. Smiles. Like she sees something in me—something good. Something worthwhile. Something worth having, worth wanting, worth fighting for.
My eyes burn, and I close them.
She sees. Goddammit, she sees anyway.
“I see you, Saxon," she whispers.
I'm too shattered to reply.
