Silas dropped to his knees with a hunger that made my thighs tremble. His hands gripped me firmly as he devoured my cock, tongue swirling, lips tight, slurping up every inch with noisy, needy focus. His spit coated me in seconds—thick and dripping, pooling under us while he worked his mouth up and down like he was savoring every second. He made me feel like I was the only thing he craved. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I pushed him back and got on top of him. I wrapped my lips around his thick cock and went to town—spit bubbling, my jaw working hard as I slid down with greedy rhythm. I stroked what I couldn’t fit in my mouth, letting strings of drool trail down my hands, across my chest, and back to his cock. It was filthy and hot and so wet. Our mouths were dripping, our hands everywhere. He moaned every time my tongue hit just right, and I swallowed every sound he made like it was part of the meal. We took turns worshipping each other’s bodies, faces wet with spit, cocks slick and aching. There was nothing soft about it—just raw need and that messy kind of passion where you lose track of time and all you can think about is how damn good it feels to be wanted like that.
