he’s telling me about his day as i leave a trail of open-mouthed, sloppy kisses from his jaw to his neck. i’ve barely started to caress the tip of his cock through his sweatpants and he’s already leaking precum—my good boy is so sensitive! it’s such a feather light touch, but a wet spot is spreading on the fabric. he throws his head back, eyes shut, gasping for air as i continue to casually touch him. with my lips pressed against his earlobe, i ask him to keep talking about his day or i’ll stop. he groans, trying his best to recover his train of thought. i let my hand slip up underneath his shirt, my nails trailing all over his torso, feeling his muscles twitch, as he finally finds his words. he’s so cute when he’s struggling to keep talking; his voice is like velvet, dripping with need, thick like honey. once more, i let my hand drift to his bulge through his pants to find that he’s somehow harder than he already was… he rolls his hips against my hand seeking friction and i can’t help but laugh; oh baby boy, if only you knew how wet you make me when you’re this desperate and sensitive!
