Kissing.
Sweet little kisses, from my base to my tip, soft and warm. And then that she’s so fucking young feeling comes back, but I’m too far gone to care or feel anything about it now. Instead, I revel in it, revel in the small, innocent kisses and her wide, dark eyes, which have gone from angry to imploring.
And like a flash, my mind is back to Raven’s Real Playdates, to the eighteen-year-old Devi worshipping my cock with her mouth. As soon as I saw her on that set, I was entranced. She was beautiful, fresh, soft and firm all at once, and after watching her go down on Raven, her thick ass in the air, I didn’t need any prep whatsoever when it was time for me to walk on. Watching her with my then-girlfriend had made me rock-hard, and then when she knelt in front of me, licking and kissing my cock with the kind of inexperienced and hesitant eagerness that told me she hadn’t given very many blowjobs before…
Well, the director almost got one more pop shot than she’d paid me for.
I used to justify my body’s response to Devi that day as a perverted reaction to her youth or maybe just a natural reaction to a new woman, but the truth is staring me in the face right now with dilated amber eyes: it’s none of those reasons. It’s Devi. She does this to me, brings me to the edge, and it won’t matter how many times she sucks me off, how many times she touches me or I touch her, it will always be like this.
Hell, at this point, even I’ve almost completely forgotten about the camera, and I know I should make this blowjob last longer, should back off a little, because if I’m this far gone without her even taking me in her mouth yet, if I’m this close just with these kisses…
But fuck it. I want this. I want it like this.
I reach down and stroke her hair back from her face.
“Lick it,” I instruct, and she does, starting with my base and licking up towards the tip. Over and over, teasingly, maddeningly, and I realize she’s mimicking how I tongue-fucked her earlier with the long, taunting strokes.
“Very cute,” I say. My thumb finds her lower lip, and I pull her mouth open. “But you know what I want.”
She smiles, my thumb still on her lip. “Then why don’t you take it?” she teases.
Well, then.
I fist myself near my root and nudge my crown against her lips, tracing the heart-shaped pout once—and then once more again—before I lazily push past that pout to the wet heat inside. For a moment, she does nothing but stare up at me, her tongue soft and still against my dick. And it’s not as if she’s being passive out of inexperience or reluctance or even naughtiness...once again, I get the feeling that she’s trying to commit this to memory, the way my face looks right now and maybe the way I feel against her tongue.
I can’t blame her. I want to commit this to memory too, every detail, the stray lock of hair on her forehead, the way her lips stretch around my girth, the way her eyes search mine, asking for permission or affirmation or absolution.
And then her hands slide around my hips and her fingers find my ass, digging in as she starts sucking me.
“Holy fuck, Devi,” I say raggedly (and maybe a little too loudly) but I can’t help it. Her mouth is like this Valhalla of wet silk, her lips sealed tight to create the kind of suction that would make a man weep. And believe me, I’m near weeping.
She holds my ass and swallows against me, making me groan, and then she pulls off to focus her attention on the tip, sucking and swirling.
“I want to go deeper,” I manage after a few deep breaths. “Can I go deeper?”
“Yes,” she whispers with her lips still mostly occupied, smiling as if I just offered her a brand new car instead of asking to shove my dick down her throat.
What a woman.