I don’t know what nonsense I’m spouting—sitting astride someone’s face with an erection like this—but my mind must have snapped from the overwhelming wetness below and the fierce suction on my testicles.
He stroked my testicles with clever pressure—drawing them into his mouth until my lower abdomen quivered—and suddenly a clear fluid trickled from the tip of my penis. It wasn’t ejaculation exactly, but it was the most copious Cooper’s fluid I’d ever released.
A sharp twinge rose in my abdomen beyond endurance. I pulled his hand from my thigh, and my hips crashed down once more.
“Stop... I—I’m going to come...!”
With that, I lost balance and collapsed sideways onto the mattress. As I lay trembling, gasping, he rose and pulled me upright by the shoulders, then eased me flat on my back.
His eyes glistened where saliva had smeared across his face from my own, but his firm lips and the taut muscles of his chest showed me how fully immersed he was in this moment—fully absorbed in my body.
He bowed over me, brushing his mouth gently across mine in a soothing, praising kiss—his tongue trailing softly as if to comfort me after my rough struggle.
His right hand slid between our bodies to explore my soaked thighs. I must have secreted more fluid than ever before; I was completely drenched, hypersensitive. Each time his fingertips pressed against me—like plucking cream from a cake—my muscles twitched with delight.
Even after his lips left mine, they hovered just above, brushing my nose and mouth again and again, while his palm pressed firmly on my perineum. He murmured,
“You have no idea what you smell like—from your lips, and here...”
He nibbled my upper lip as he clasped my perineum in his palm.
“Mm... ah...”
Having rinsed off in the bath with cleanser, I must smell clean—perhaps even pleasantly so. But in his voice, the question carried a wicked edge, as if he meant not my shampooed scent but the heady tang of my sexual fluids.
As his hand rubbed me, I felt the wet friction between his palm and my groin.
“I want to bury my face there all day, inhaling your scent.”
“Ah... uh...”
He began to mimic the rhythm of penetration, sweeping his hand upward from perineum to anus in a pounding motion. The first flutter of pain stirred a gasp. I’d only ever had him enter me once—and now I craved the violent thrusting of his hips, the abandon of losing my reason.
I’d not meant “change” to imply this—but I was changing at an astonishing speed. This talent I’d never known... should I rejoice?
“Ah... ah...”
He curled a fingertip around my anus, tracing its entrance, and I couldn’t stop trembling. His other hand moved to my jaw, turning my face to meet his gaze—a gaze bright with lust.
“Does my scent turn you on too?”
“......”
It felt as though he’d read my thoughts. I hardly dared breathe.
“Thinking about it makes your cock twitch, doesn’t it? And here...”
“Uh—ah.”
He pressed that finger deeper—without lubricant, without warning. I clenched his shoulder as I ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) stiffened, braced for the sensation.
Then he bent that fingertip, stroking my inner wall’s sensitive lining as he spoke:
“Does it itch in there? Hm?”
Panting like a starving animal, I nodded urgently.
He looked down at me, equally ravenous, then tugged his training pants band low and freed himself. His shaft stood thick and proud, its scent intensifying the layers of fragrance in the air.
It wasn’t a sweet, floral scent—rather something heady and insistent, like electricity in the air. It blurred my thinking, sharpened my nerves, then tightened them.
Even in the dim light I could see how hard he was, the glistening tip slick with my fluids. My mouth watered.
Without warning, he gripped the back of my neck and pulled me down until my face hovered just above his pubic bone. His lips curved into a low, sweet laugh—a laugh that melted my ears—and he whispered,
“Want to smell it up close?”
Before I could answer, he slid around to cradle me in his arms and laid me backward against a large pillow on his torso. My heart thundered as he hovered above me.
He guided my hips until I straddled his face, the head of his cock teasing against my perineum.
“...Okay,” I breathed.
He gripped my thighs and lifted his hips slightly, pressing the tip of his shaft against my entrance. My breath caught as I lowered myself.
His length drove between my cheeks, and then deeper, until I felt him fill me completely. I gasped and pressed my hands against his chest for support.
He leaned back, anchoring my thighs on his shoulders, and thrust furiously upward—each slam of his hips sending sparks through my core. His eyes never left mine.
My hands fisted in the sheets, my breath coming in ragged gasps. Each time he withdrew, my walls fluttered around him, begging him back in.
“Fuck... yes...!” I moaned.
He quickened his pace, thrust after savage thrust—hard, shallow, deeper, tender—reading my every reaction. His fluid coated my insides and slicked my walls, making it easier for him to pump me deeper still.
My thighs trembled around his neck, but I welcomed the delicious friction. He seemed to map every nerve-ending as I cried out.
In the half-dark, we lost all semblance of decorum, lost in the wet slap of flesh and the velvet pressure of his cock sliding in and out.
“I’m going to...” I cried out, my voice breaking in pleasure.
A final series of thrusts, and I tumbled over the edge—my body convulsing as waves of climax swept through me. My head fell forward, my breath choked to a squeak as he ground into me one last time.
He held me through my tremors, then slowly withdrew, releasing me from his hold. I collapsed beside him, limp and thrilled, our breaths mingling in the hush that followed.
