The look of it in porn—the way a man’s body flexed at the moment of climax, the way a mouth stretched wide around something thick and aching. Porn sex Thirty seconds later, a porch light flicked on. I emailed him that I’d arrived. The taste of him filled my mouth, warm and masculine, laced with just enough soap to make it intimate as I slowly slid my mouth over the head. His body twitched with every pass of my tongue, his breathing ragged. “No rush,” he said, voice low and patient. Seven inches, cleanly shaved, veiny, and just… flawless. I wanted to submit, in secret. Not one I chose—but one that changed everything. I masturbated hard and fast, releasing the blue balls I gave myself, then licked the mess clean. Not one I chose—but one that changed everything. It fed it. Slowly and gently, he lifted my head to the tip, then plunged me back down to the hilt. The look of it in porn—the way a man’s body flexed at the moment of climax, the way a mouth stretched wide around something thick and aching. But eventually, he stepped back with a soft laugh and a shaky exhale. Not romance. And when he sent a pic of his cock? I gagged, but I kept going.
